CHILDREN OF THE WHIRLWIND

By Leroy Scott

CHAPTER I

It was an uninspiring bit of street: narrow, paved with cobble; hot andnoisy in summer, reeking with unwholesome mud during the drizzling andsnow-slimed months of winter. It looked anything this May after noonexcept a starting-place for drama. But, then, the great dramas of lifeoften avoid the splendid estates and trappings with which conventionalromance would equip them, and have their beginnings in unlikeliestenvironment; and thence sweep on to a noble, consuming tragedy, or toa glorious unfolding of souls. Life is a composite of contradictions--apuzzle to the wisest of us: the lily lifting its graceful purity aloftmay have its roots in a dunghill. Samson's dead lion putrefying by aroadside is ever and again being found to be a storehouse of wild honey. We are too accustomed to the ordinary and the obvious to consider thatbeauty or worth may, after bitter travail, grow out of that which isugly and unpromising. 

Thus no one who looked on Maggie Carlisle and Larry Brainard at theirbeginnings, had even a guess what manner of persons were to develop fromthem or what their stories were to be. 

The houses on the bit of street were all three-storied and all of auniform, dingy, scaling redness. The house of the Duchess, on the leftside as you came down the street toward the little Square which squattedbeside the East River, differed from the others only in that three ballsof tarnished gilt swung before it and unredeemed pledges emanated aweakly lure from behind its dirt-streaked windows, and also in that thepersonality of the Duchess gave the house something of a character ofits own. 

The street did business with her when pressed for funds, but it knewlittle definite about the Duchess except that she was shriveled and bentand almost wordless and was seemingly without emotions. But of coursethere were rumors. She was so old, and had been so long in the drablittle street, that she was as much a legend as a real person. No oneknew exactly how she had come by the name of "Duchess. " There weremisty, unsupported stories that long, long ago she had been a shapelyand royal figure in colored fleshings, and that her title had been givenher in those her ruling days. Also there was a vague story that she hadcome by the name through an old liking for the romances of that writerwho put forth her, or his, or their, prolific extravagances under theexalted pseudonym of "The Duchess. " Also there was a rumor that thetitle came from a former alleged habit of the Duchess of carryingbeneath her shapeless dress a hoard of jewels worthy to be a duchy'sheirlooms. But all these were just stories--no more. Down in thisquarter of New York nicknames come easily, and once applied they adhereto the end. 

Some believed that she was now the mere ashes of a woman, in whom livedonly the last flickering spark. And some believed that beneath that draband spent appearance there smouldered a great fire, which might blazeforth upon some occasion. But no one knew. As she was now, so shehad always been even in the memory of people considered old in theneighborhood. 

Beside the fact that she ran a pawnshop, which was reputed to be also afence, there were only two or three other facts that were known to herneighbors. One was that in the far past there had been a daughter, andthat while still a very young girl this daughter had disappeared. It wasrumored that the Duchess had placed the daughter in a convent and thatlater tire girl had married; but the daughter had never appeared againin the quarter. Another fact was that there was a grandson, a handsomeyoung devil, who had come down occasionally to visit his grandmother, until he began his involuntary sojourn at Sing Sing. Another fact--thisone the best known of all--was that two or three years before animpudent, willful young girl named Maggie Carlisle had come to live withher. 

It was rather a meager history. People wondered and talked of mystery. But perhaps the only mystery arose from the fact that the Duchess wasthe kind of woman who never volunteered information about her affairs, and the kind even the boldly curious hesitate to question... 

And down here it was, in this unlovely street, in the Duchess's unlovelyhouse, that the drama of Maggie Carlisle and Larry Brainard beganits unpromising and stormy career: for, though they had thought of itlittle, their forebears had been sowers of the wind, they themselves hadsown some of that careless seed and were to sow yet more--and there wasto be the reaping of that seed's wild crop. 

CHAPTER II

When Maggie entered the studio on the Duchess's third floor, the big, red-haired, unkempt painter roared his rebukes at her. She stiffened, and in the resentment of her proud youth did not even offer anexplanation. Nodding to her father and Barney Palmer, she silentlycrossed to the window and stood sullenly gazing over the single mongreltree before the house and down the narrow street and across the littleSquare, at the swirling black tide which raced through East River. Thatpainter was a beast! Yes, and a fool!

But quickly the painter was forgotten, and once more her mind revertedto Larry--at last Larry was coming back!--only to have the painter, after a minute, interrupt her excited imagination with:

"What's the matter with your tongue, Maggie? Generally you stab backwith it quick enough. "

She turned, still sulky and silent, and gazed with cynical superiorityat the easel. "Nuts"--it was Barney Palmer who had thus lightlyrechristened the painter when he had set up his studio in the atticabove the pawnshop six months before--Nuts was transferring the seamy, cunning face of her father, "Old Jimmie" Carlisle, to the canvas withswift, unhesitating strokes. 

"For the lova Christ and the twelve apostles, including that pikerJudas, " woefully intoned Old Jimmie from the model's chair, "lemme getdown off this platform!"

"Move and I'll wipe my palette off on that Mardi Gras vest of yours!"grunted the big painter autocratically through his mouthful of brushes. 

"O God--and I got a cramp in my back, and my neck's gone tosleep!" groaned Old Jimmie, leaning forward on his cane. "Daughter, dear"--plaintively to Maggie--"what is the crazy gentleman doing to me?"

"It's an awful smear, father. " Maggie spoke slightingly, but with a toneof doubt. It was not the sort of picture that eighteen has been taughtto like--yet the picture did possess an intangible something thatprovoked doubt as to its quality. "You sure do look one old burglar!"

"Not a cheap burglar?"--hopefully. 

"Naw!" exploded the man at the easel in his big voice, first taking thebrushes from his mouth. "You're a swell-looking old pirate!--ready toloot the sub-treasury and then scuttle the old craft with all hands onboard! A breathing, speaking, robbing likeness!"

"Maggie's right, and Nuts's right, " put in Barney Palmer. "It's sure arotten picture, and then again it sure looks like you, Jimmie. "

The smartly dressed Barney--Barney could not keep away from Broadwaytailors and haberdashers with their extravagant designs and colorschemes--dismissed the insignificant matter of the portrait, and resumedthe really important matter which had brought him to her. 

"Are you certain, Maggie, that the Duchess hasn't heard from Larry?"

"If she has, she hasn't mentioned it. But why don't you ask heryourself?"

"I did, but she wouldn't say a thing. You can't get a word out of theDuchess with a jimmy, unless she wants to talk--and she never wants totalk. " He turned his sharp, narrowly set eyes upon the lean old man. "It's got me guessing, Jimmie. Larry was due out of Sing Sing yesterday, and we haven't had a peep from him, and though she won't talk I'm surehe hasn't been here to see his grandmother. "

"Sure is funny, " agreed Old Jimmie. "But mebbe Larry has broke straightinto a fresh game and is playing a lone hand. He's a quick worker, Larryis--and he's got nerve. "

"Well, whatever's keeping him we're tied up till Larry comes. " Barneyturned back to Maggie. "I say, sister, how about robing yourself in yourraiment of joy and coming with yours truly to a palace of jazz, there todine and show the populace what real dancing is?"

"Can't, Barney. Mr. Hunt"--the name given the painter at his originalchristening--"asked the Duchess and me to have dinner up here. He's tocook it himself. "

"For your sake I hope he cooks better than he paints. " And slidingdown in his chair until he rested upon a more comfortable vertebra, theelegant Barney lit a monogrammed cigarette, and with idle patience swunghis bamboo stick. 

"You're half an hour late, Maggie, " Hunt began at her again in hisrumbling voice. "Can't stand for such a waste of my time!"

"How about my time?" retorted Maggie, who indeed had a grievance. "I wassupposed to have the day off, but instead I had to carry that tray ofcigarettes around till the last person in the Ritzmore had finishedlunch. Anyhow, " she added, "I don't see that your time's worth so muchwhen you spend it on such painty messes as these. "

"It's not up to you to tell me what my time's worth!" retorted Hunt. "Ipay you--that's enough for you!... Because you weren't on time, I stuckOld Jimmie out there to finish off this picture. I'll be through withthe old cut-throat in ten minutes. Be ready to take his place. "

"All right, " said Maggie sulkily. 

For all his roaring she was not much afraid of the painter. While hisbrushes flicked at, and streaked across, the canvas she stood idlywatching him. He was in paint-smeared, baggy trousers and a soft shirtwhose open collar gave a glimpse of a deep chest matted with hair andwhose rolled-up sleeves revealed forearms that seemed absurdly large tobe fiddling with those slender sticks. A crowbar would have seemedmore in harmony. He was unromantically old--all of thirty-five Maggieguessed; and with his square, rough-hewn face and tousled, reddish hairhe was decidedly ugly. But for the fact that he really did work--thoughof course his work was foolish--and the fact that he paid his way--hebought little, but no one could beat him by so much as a penny in abargain, not even the Duchess--Maggie might have considered him as oneof the many bums who floated purposelessly through that drab region. 

Also, had there not been so many queer people coming and going in thisneighborhood--Eads Howe, the hobo millionaire, settlement workers, people who had grown rich and old in their business and preferred tolive near it--Maggie might have regarded Hunt with more curiosity, andeven with suspicion; but down here one accepted queer people as a matterof course, the only fear being that secretly they might be police orgovernment agents, which Maggie and the others knew very well Hunt wasnot. When Hunt had rented this attic as a studio they had acceptedhis explanation that he had taken it because it was cheap and he couldafford to pay no more. Likewise they had accepted his explanation thathe was a mechanic by trade who had roughed it all over the world andwas possessed with an itch for painting, that lately he had worked invarious garages, that it was his habit to hoard his money till he got abit ahead and then go off on a painting spree. All these admissionswere indubitably plausible, for his paintings seemed the unmistakablehandiwork of an irresponsible, hard-fisted motor mechanic. 

Maggie shifted to her other foot and glanced casually at the canvaseswhich leaned against the walls of the shabby studio. There was theDuchess: incredibly old, the face a web of wrinkles, the lips indrawnover toothless and shrunken gums, the nose a thin, curved beak, theeyes deep-set, gleaming, inscrutable, watching; and drawn tight overthe hair--even Maggie did not know whether that hair was a wig or theDuchess's--the faded Oriental shawl which was fastened beneath her chinand which fell over her thin, bent chest. There was O'Flaherty, thegood-natured policeman on the beat. There was the old watchmaker nextdoor. There was Black Hurley, the notorious gang leader, who sometimesswaggered into the district like a dirty and evil feudal lord. There wasa Jewish pushcart peddler, white-bearded and skull-capped. There was anItalian mother sitting on the curb, her feet in the gutter, smiling downat the baby that was hungrily suckling at her milk-heavy breast. And soon, and so on. Just the ordinary, uninteresting things Maggie saw aroundthe block. There was not a single pretty picture in the lot. 

Hunt swung the canvas from his easel and stood it against the wall. "That'll be all for you, Jimmie. Beat it and make room for Maggie. Maggie, take your same pose. "

Old Jimmie ambled forward and gazed at his portrait as Hunt was settlingan unfinished picture on his easel. It had rather amused Jimmie andfilled in his idle time to sit for the crazy painter; and, incidentally, another picture of him would do him no particular harm since the policealready had all the pictures they needed of him over at Headquarters. Ashe gazed at Hunt's work Old Jimmie snickered. 

"I say, Nuts, what you goin' to do with this mess of paint?"

"Going to sell it to the Metropolitan Museum, you old sinner!" snappedHunt. 

Old Jimmie cackled at the joke. He knew pictures; that is, goodpictures. He had had an invisible hand in more than one clevertransaction in which handsome pictures alleged to have been smuggled in, Gainsboroughs and Romneys and such (there had been most profit for himin handling the forgeries of these particular masters), had been put, with an air of great secrecy, into the hands of divers newly richgentlemen who believed they were getting masterpieces at bargain pricesthrough this evasion of customs laws. 

"Nuts, " chuckled Old Jimmie, "this junk wouldn't be so funny if youdidn't seem to believe you were really painting. "

"Junk! Funny!" Hunt swung around, one big hand closed about Jimmie'slean neck and the other seized his thin shoulder. "You grandfather ofthe devil and all his male progeny, you talk like that and I'll chuckyou through the window!"

Old Jimmie grinned. The grip of the big hands of the painter, thoughpowerful, was light. They all knew that the loud ravings of the painternever presaged violence. They had grown to like him, to accept him asalmost one of themselves; though of course they looked down upon himwith amused pity for his imbecility regarding his paintings. 

"Get out of here, " continued Hunt, "or cut out all this noise that comesfrom your having a brain that rattles. I've got to work. "

Hunt turned again to his easel, and Old Jimmie, still grinning, loweredhimself into a chair, lit a cigar, and winked at Barney. Hunt, withbrush poised, regarded Maggie a moment. 

"You there, Maggie, " he ordered, "chin up a bit more, some flash in youreyes, more pep in your bearing--as though you were asking all the damesof the Winter Garden, and the Charity Ball, and the Horse Show, and thatgang of tea-swilling women at the Ritzmore you sell cigarettes to--asthough you were asking them all who the dickens they think they are... OGod, can't you do anything!"

"I'm doing the best I can, and I look more like those dames than youlook like a painter!"

"Shut up! I'm paying you a dollar an hour to pose, not to talk back tome. And you'd have more respect for my money if you knew how hard I hadto work to earn it: carrying a motor car around in each hand. Wash offthat scowl and try to look as I said... There, that's better. Hold it. "

He began to paint rapidly, with quick glances back and forth between thecanvas and Maggie. Maggie's dress was just the ordinary shirt-waist andskirt that the shopgirl and her sisters wear; Hunt had ordered it so. She was above the medium height, with thick black hair tinted withshadowy blue, long dark lashes, dark scimitars of eyebrows, a full, firmmouth, a nose with just the right tilt to it--all effective points forHunt in what he wished to do. But what had attracted him most and givenhim his idea was her look; hardly pertness, or impudence--rather acynical, mature, defiant certainty in herself. 

Erect in her cheap shirt-waist, she gazed off into space with a smiling, confident challenge to all the world. Hunt was trying to make hispicture a true portrait--and also make it a symbol of many things whichstill were only taking shape in his own mind: of beauty rising from thegutter to overcome beauty of more favored birth, and to reign aboveit; also of a lower stratum surging up and breaking through the upperstratum, becoming a part of it, or assimilating it, or conquering it. Leading families replaced by other families, classes replaced by otherclasses, nations replaced by other nations--such was the inevitablesocial process--so read the records of the fifty or sixty centuriessince history began to be written. Oh, he was trying to say a lot inthis portrait of a girl of ordinary birth--even less than ordinary--inher cheap shirt-waist and skirt!

And it pleased the sardonic element in Hunt's unmoral nature that thisMaggie, through whom he was trying to symbolize so much, he knew to be apetty larcenist: shoplifting and matters of similar consequence. Shehad been cynically frank about this to him; casual, almost boastful. Herpossessing a bent toward such activities was hardly to be wondered at, with her having Old Jimmie as her father, and the Duchess as a landlady, and having for acquaintances such gentlemen as Barney Palmer and thisreturning prison-bird, Larry Brainard. 

But petty crime, thought Hunt, would not be Maggie's forte if shedeveloped her possibilities. With her looks, her boldness, hercleverness, she had the makings of a magnificent adventuress. As hepainted, he wondered what she was going to do, and become; and hewatched her not only with a painter's eye intent upon the present, butwith keen speculation upon the future. 

CHAPTER III

Presently Hunt's mind shifted to Larry Brainard, whom Barney Palmer andOld Jimmie Carlisle had come here to see. Hunt had a mind curious aboutevery thing and every one; and blustering, bullying creature though hewas, he had the gift, possessed by but few, of audaciously thrustinghimself into other people's affairs without arousing their resentment. He was keen to learn Maggie's attitude toward Larry; and he spoke not somuch to gain knowledge of Larry as to draw her out. 

"This Larry--what sort of chap is he, Maggie?" As with most artists, talking did not interfere with Hunt's painting. 

Warm color slowly tinted Maggie's cheeks. "He's clever, " she saidpositively. "You already know that. But I was only a girl when he wassent away. "

Hunt smiled at her idea of her present maturity, implied by her lastsentence. "But you lived with the Duchess for a year before he was sentaway. You must have seen a lot of him, and got to know him well. "

"Oh, he used to come down now and then to see his grandmother--I wasonly fifteen or sixteen then--just a girl, and he didn't pay muchattention to me. Father can tell you better just how smart he is. "

Old Jimmie spoke up promptly. He knew Hunt was not a police stool, andhe liked the painter as much as it was in him to like any man; so hefelt none of the reserve or caution that might have controlled him inother company. 

"You bet Larry's smart! Got the quickest brain of any con man in thebusiness--and him only about twenty-seven now. Some think I'm a smoothproposition myself, but Larry puts it all over me. That's why I'mwilling to let him be my boss. He's a wonder at thinking up new stunts, and then at working out safe new ways of putting them across. "

"But the police landed him at last, " commented Hunt. 

"Yes, but that was only because another man muffed his end of the job. "

The handsome Barney Palmer had been restless during Old Jimmie's eulogy. "Oh, Larry's all to the good--but he's not the only party that's gotreal ideas. "

"Huh!" grunted Old Jimmie. "But you'll remember that we haven't put overany big ones since Larry's been in stir. "

"That's been because you wouldn't listen to any of my ideas!" retortedBarney. "And I handed out some peaches. "

Even during the period of Larry's active reign it had irked Barney toaccept another man as leader, and it had irked him even more during theinterregnum while Larry was guest of the State. For Barney believed inhis own Napoleonic strain. 

"Don't let yourself get sore, Barney, " Old Jimmie said appeasingly. "You'll have plenty of chances to try out your ideas as the main guybefore you cash in. You know the outfit wanted to lay low for a while, anyhow. But we'll be putting over a lot of the big stuff when Larry getsout. "

Hunt had noted a quick light come into Maggie's dark eyes while herfather praised the absent leader. He himself suddenly perceived a newpossibility. 

"Maggie, ever think about teaming up with Larry?" he demanded, with hisaudacious keenness. 

She flushed, and hesitated. He did not wait for her slow-coming reply, but turned to her father. 

"Jimmie, did Larry ever use women in his stunts?"

"Never. Whenever we suggested using a skirt, Larry absolutely said therewas nothing doing. That's one point where he was all wrong. Nothinghelps so much, when the sucker is at all sentimental, as a clever, good-looking woman. And Larry'll come around to it all right. He'llsee the sense of it, now that he's older and has had two years to thinkthings over. "

Old Jimmie nodded, showing his yellow teeth in a sly grin. "You saidsomething a second ago: Maggie and Larry! They'll make a wonder of ateam! I mean that she'll work under him with the rest of us. I've beenthinking about it a long while. Mebbe you haven't guessed it, but we'vebeen coaching her for the part, and she's just about ripe. She's gotthe looks, and we can dress her right for whatever job's on hand. Oh, Larry'll put over some great things with Maggie!"

If Hunt felt that there was anything cynically unpaternal in this fatherplanning for his daughter a career of crime, he gave no sign of it. Hisattention was just then all on Maggie. He saw her eyes grow yet morebright at these last sentences of her father: bright with the vision ofapproaching adventure. 

"The idea suits you, Maggie?" he asked. 

"Sure. It'll be great--for Larry is a wonder!"

Barney Palmer suddenly rose, his face twisted with anger. "I'm all fedup on this Larry, Larry, Larry! Come on, Jimmie. Let's get uptown. "

Wise Old Jimmie saw that Barney was near an outburst. "All right, Barney, all right, " he said promptly. "Not much use waiting any longer, anyhow. If Larry comes, we'll fix it with the Duchess to meet himtomorrow. "

"Then so-long, Maggie, " Barney flung at her, and that swagger ex-jockey, gambler, and clever manipulator of the confidence of people with money, slashed aside the shabby burlap curtains with his wisp of a bamboowalking-stick, and strode out of the room. 

"Good-night, daughter, " and Old Jimmie crossed and kissed her. Shekissed him back--a perfunctory kiss. Maggie had never paused to thinkthe matter out, but for some reason she felt little real affection forher father, though of course she admired his astuteness. Perhaps herunconscious lack of love was due in part to the fact that she had neverlived with him. Ever since she remembered he had boarded her out, hereand there, as he was now boarding her at the Duchess's--and had onlycome to visit her at intervals, sometimes intervals that stretched intomonths. 

"Barney is rather sweet on you, " remarked Hunt after the two were gone. 

"I know he is, " conceded Maggie in a matter-of-fact way. 

"And he seems jealous of Larry--both regarding you, and regarding thebunch. "

"He thinks he can run the bunch just as well as Larry. Barney's cleverall right, and has plenty of nerve--but he's not in Larry's class. Notby a million miles!"

Hunt perceived that this daring, world-defying, embryonically beautifulmodel of his had idealized the homecoming nephew of the Duchess into herespecial hero. Hunt said no more, but painted rapidly. Night had fallenoutside, and long since he had switched on the electric lights. Heseemed not at all finicky in this matter of light; he had no supposedlyindispensable north light, and midday or midnight were almost equallyapt to find him slashing with brush or scratching with crayon. 

Presently the Duchess entered. No word was spoken. The Duchess, noteworthy for her mastery of silence, sank into a chair, a bent andshrunken image, nothing seemingly alive about her but her faintlygleaming, deep-set eyes. Several minutes passed, then Hunt lifted thecanvas from the easel and stood it against the wall. 

"That's all for to-day, Maggie, " he announced, pushing the easel to oneside. "Duchess, you and this wild young thing spread the banquet-tablewhile I wash up. "

He disappeared into a corner shut off by burlap curtains. From withinthere issued the sound of splashing water and the sputtering roar ofsnatches of the Toreador's song in a very big and very bad baritone. 

Maggie put out a hand, and kept the Duchess from rising. "Sitstill--I'll fix the table. "

Silently the Duchess acquiesced. Maggie had never felt any tendernesstoward this strange, silent woman with whom she had lived for threeyears, but it was perhaps an indication of qualities within Maggie, whose existence she herself never even guessed, that she instinctivelypushed the old woman aside from tasks which involved any physicaleffort. Maggie now swung the back of a laundry bench up to form atable-top, and upon it proceeded to spread a cloth and arrange a medleyof chipped dishes. As she moved swiftly and deftly about, the Duchesswatching her with immobile features, these two made a strangelycontrasting pair: one seemingly spent and at life's grayest end, theother electric with vitality and giving off the essence of life'sunknown adventures. 

Hunt stepped out between the curtains, pulling on his coat. "You'll findthat chow in my fireless cooker will beat the Ritz, " he boasted. "Thetenderest, fattest kind of a fatted calf for the returned prodigal. "

Maggie started. "The prodigal! You mean--Larry is coming?"

"Sure, " grinned Hunt. "That's why we celebrate. "

Maggie wheeled upon the Duchess. "Is Larry really coming?"

"Yes, " said the old woman. 

"But--but why the uncertainty about when he was coming back? Father andBarney thought he was due to get out yesterday. "

"Just a mistake we all made about his release. His time was up thisafternoon. "

"But you told Barney and my father you hadn't heard from him. "

"I had heard, " said the Duchess in her flat tone. "If they want to seehim they can see him to-morrow. "

"When--when will he be here?"

"Any minute, " said the Duchess. 

Without a word Maggie whirled about and the next moment she was in herroom on the floor below. She did not know what prompted her, but she hada frantic desire to get out of this plain shirt-waist and skirt and intosomething that would be striking. She considered her scanty wardrobe;her father had recently spoken of handsome gowns and furnishings, but asyet these existed only in his words, and the pseudo-evening gowns whichshe had worn to restaurant dances with Barney she knew to be cheap anduneffective. 

Suddenly she remembered the things Hunt had given her, or had loanedher, the evening four months earlier when he had taken her toan artists' masquerade ball--though to her it had been a bitterdisappointment when Hunt had carried her away before the unmasking attwelve o'clock. She tore off the offending waist and skirt, pulled frombeneath the bed the pasteboard box containing her costume; and in fiveminutes of flying hands the transformation was completed. Her thick hairof burnished black was piled on top of her head in gracious disorder, and from it swayed a scarlet paper flower. About her lithe body, over ablack satin skirt, swathing her in its graceful folds, clung a Spanishshawl of saffron-colored background with long brown silken fringe, andflowered all over with brown and red and peacock blue, and held in placeby three huge barbaric pins jeweled with colored glass, one at eitherhip and upon her right shoulder, leaving her smooth shoulders bare andfree. With no more than a glance to get the hasty effect, she hurried upto the studio. 

Hunt whistled at sight of her, but made no remark. Flushed, she lookedback at him defiantly. The Duchess gave no sign whatever of being awareof the transformation. 

Maggie with excited touches tried to improve her setting of thetable, aquiver with expectancy and suspense at the nearness of themeeting--every nerve of audition strained to catch the first footfallupon the stairs. Hunt, watching her, could but wonder, in case Larry wasthe clever, dashing person that had been described, what would be theoutcome when these two natures met and perhaps joined forces. 

CHAPTER IV

While the preparations for dinner were going on in the studio, downbelow Larry turned a corner and swung up the narrow street toward thepawnshop. He halted and peered in before entering; in doing this he wasobeying the caution that was his by instinct and training. 

Leaning over the counter within, and chatting with his grandmother'sassistant was Casey, one of the two plain-clothesmen who had arrestedhim. Larry drew back. He was not afraid of Casey, or of Gavegan, Casey'spartner, or of the whole police force, or of the State of New York; theyhad nothing on him, he had settled accounts by having done his bit. Allthe same, he preferred not to meet Casey just then. So he went down thestreet, crossed the cobbled plaza along the water-front, and slippedthrough the darkness among the trucks out to the end of the pier. Underhis feet the East River splashed sluggishly against the piles, but outnear the river's center he could see the tide swirling out to sea at sixmiles an hour, toward the great shadowy Manhattan Bridge crested withits splendid tiara of lights. 

He stretched himself and breathed deeply of the warm free spring. Ittasted good after two long years of the prison's sealed air. He wouldhave liked to shed his clothing and dive down for a brisk fight with thetingling water. Larry had always taken pleasure in keeping his body fit. He had not cared for the gymnasiums of the ward clubs where he wouldhave been welcome; in them there had been too much rough horseplay andfoulness of mouth, and such had always been offensive to him. Andthough he had ever looked the gentleman, he had known that the New YorkAthletic Club and other similar clubs were not for him; they pried a bittoo much into a candidate's social and professional standing. So he hadturned to a club where really searching inquiries were rarely made;for years he had belonged to a branch of the Y. M. C. A. Located just offBroadway, and had played handball and boxed with chunky, slow-footedcity detectives who were struggling to retain some physical activity, and with fat playwrights, and with Jewish theatrical managers, and withthe few authentic Christians who occasionally strayed into the place andseemed ill at ease therein. He had liked this club for another reason;his sense of humor had often been highly excited by the thought of hisbeing a member of the Y. M. C. A. 

Having this instinct for physical fitness, he had not greatly mindedbeing a coal-passer during the greater part of his stay at Sing Sing;better that than working in the knitting mills; so that now, thoughunderfed and under weight, he was active and hard-muscled. 

Larry Brainard could not have told why, and just when, he had turnedto devious ways. He had never put that part of his life under themicroscope. But the simple facts were that he had become an orphan atfifteen and a broker's clerk at nineteen after a course in a businesscollege; and that experiences with wash-sales and such devious anddubious practices of brokers, his high spirits, his instinct forpleasure, his desire for big winnings--these had swept him into a wildcrowd before he had been old enough to take himself seriously, andhad started him upon a brilliant career of adventures and unlawfulmoney-making in whose excitement there had been no let-up until hisarrest. He had never thought about such technical and highly academicsubjects as right and wrong up to the day when Casey and Gavegan hadslipped the handcuffs upon him. To laugh, to dance, to plan and directclever coups, to spend the proceeds gayly and lavishly--to challenge thepolice with another daring coup: that had been life to him, a game thatwas all excitement. 

And now, after two years in which there had been plenty of time forthinking, his conscience still did not trouble him on the score of hisoffenses. He believed, and was largely right in this belief, that thesuckers he had trimmed had all been out to secure unlawful gain andto take cunning advantage of his supposedly foolish self and of otherdupes. He had been too clever for them, that was all; in desire andintent they had been as great cheats as himself. So he felt no remorseover his victims; and as for anything he may have done against thatimpersonal entity, the criminal statutes, why, the period in prisonhad squared all such matters. So he now faced life pleasantly and withcare-free soul. 

Larry had turned away from the dark river and had started to retrace hisway, when he saw a man approaching through the darkness. Larry paused. The man drew near and halted exactly in front of Larry. By the swing ofhis body Larry had recognized the man, and his own figure instinctivelygrew tense. 

"What you doin' out here, Brainard?" The voice was peremptory and rough. 

"Throwing kisses over at Brooklyn, " Larry replied coolly. "And what areyou doing out here, Gavegan?"

"Following you. I wanted a quiet word with you. I've been right behindyou ever since you hit New York. "

"I knew you would be. You and Casey. But you haven't got anything onme. "

"I got plenty on you before!--with Casey helping, " retorted Gavegan. "And I'll get plenty on you again!--now that I know you are the main guyof a clever outfit. You'll be starting some smooth game--but I'm goingto be right after you every minute. And I'll get you. That's the news Iwanted to slip you. "

"So!" commented Larry drawlingly. "Casey's a fairly decent guy, considering his line--but, Gavegan, I don't see how Casey stands you asa partner. And, Gavegan, I don't see why the Board of Health lets youstay around the streets--when putrefying matter causes so much disease. "

"None of your lip, young feller!" growled Gavegan. He stepped closer, bulking over Larry. "You think you are such a damned smart talker andsuch a damned clever schemer--but I'll bet I'll have you locked up insix months. "

Anger boiled up within Larry. Against all the persons connected with hisarrest, trial, and imprisonment, he had no particular resentment, exceptagainst this one man. He never could forget the time he and Gavegan, hehandcuffed, had been locked in a sound-proof cell, and Gavegan hadgiven him the third degree--in this case a length of heavy rubber hose, applied with a powerful arm upon head and shoulders--in an effort tomake him squeal upon his confederates. And that third degree was merelya sample of the material of which Gavegan was made. 

Larry held his desire in leash. "So you bet you'll get me. I'll takethat bet--any figure you like. I've already got a new game cooked up, Gavegan. Cleverer than anything I've ever tried before. "

"Oh, I'll get you!" Gavegan growled again. 

"Oh, no, you won't!" And then Larry's old anger against Gavegan got intohis tongue and made it wag tauntingly. "You didn't get me the last time;that was a slip and police stools got me. All by yourself, Gavegan, you couldn't get anything. Your brain's got flat tires, and its motordoesn't fire, and its clutch is broken. The only thing about it thatstill works is the horn. You've got a hell of a horn, Gavegan, and itnever stops blowing. "

A tug was nearing the dock, and by its light Larry saw the terrificswing that the enraged detective started. Larry swayed slightly aside, and as Gavegan lunged by, Larry's right fist drove into Gavegan'schin--drove with all the power of his dislike and all the strength offive years in a Y. M. C. A. Gymnasium and a year in a prison boiler-room. 

Gavegan went down and out. 

Larry gazed a moment at the dim, sprawling figure, then turned and madehis way off the pier and again to the door of the pawnshop. Casey wasgone; he could see no one within but Old Isaac, the assistant. 

Larry opened the door and entered. "Hello, Isaac. Where's grandmother?"

It is not a desirable trait in one connected with a pawnshop, that isalso reputed to be a fence, to show surprise or curiosity. So Isaac'sreply was confined to a few facts and brief direction. 

Wondering, Larry mounted the stairway which opened from the confidentialbusiness room behind the pawnshop. It was common enough for hisgrandmother to rent out the third floor; but to a painter, and a crazypainter--that seemed strange. And yet more strange was it for her to behaving dinner with the painter. 

Larry knocked at the door. A big male voice within gave order:

"Be parlor-maid, Maggie, and see who's there. "

The door opened and Larry half entered. Then he stopped, and in surprisegazed at the flushed, gleaming Maggie, slender and supple in the foldsof the Spanish shawl. 

"Why, Maggie!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand. 

"Larry!"

She was thrillingly confused by his surprised admiration. For a momentthey stood gazing at each other, holding hands. The clothes given him onleaving prison were of course atrocious, but in all else he measured upto her dreams: lithe, well-built, handsome, a laugh ready on his lips, and the very devil of daring in his smiling, gray-blue eyes. 

"How you have grown up, Maggie!" he said, still amazed. 

"That's all I've had to do for two years, " she returned. 

"Come on in, Larry, " said the Duchess. 

Larry shut the door, bowed with light grace as he had to pass in frontof Maggie, and crossed to the Duchess. 

"Hello, grandmother, " he said as though he had last seen her theday before. He held out his hand, the left one, and she took it in amummified claw. In all his life he had never kissed his grandmother, nordid he remember ever having been kissed by her. 

"Glad you're back, Larry. " She dropped his hand. "The man's name isHunt. "

Larry turned to the painter. His laughing eyes could be sharp; they werepenetratingly sharp now. And so were Hunt's eyes. 

Larry held out his hand, again the left. "And so you're the painter?"

"They call me a painter, " responded Hunt, "but none of them believe I'ma painter. "

Larry turned again to Maggie. "And so you're actually Maggie! Meaningno offense"--and there was a smiling audacity in his face that it wouldhave been hard to have taken offense at--"I don't see how Old JimmieCarlisle's daughter got such looks without stealing them. "

"Well, then, " retorted Maggie, "I don't see how you got your looksunless--"

She broke off and bit her tongue. She had been about to retort withthe contrast between Larry's face and his shriveled, hook-nosedgrandmother's. They all perceived her intention, however. 

Larry came instantly to her rescue with almost imperceptible ease. 

"Dinner!" he exclaimed, gazing at the miscellany of dishes on the table. "Am I invited?"

"Invited?" said Hunt. "You're the guest of honor. "

"Then might the guest of honor beg the privilege of cleaning up a bit?"Larry drew his right hand from his coat pocket, where it had been allthis while, and started to unwind the handkerchief which he had woundabout his knuckles as he had crossed from the pier. 

"Is your hand hurt much?" Maggie inquired eagerly. 

"Just skinned my knuckles. "

"How?"

"They happened to connect with a flatfoot's jaw while he was trying tomake hypnotic passes at me. He's coming to about now. Officer Gavegan. "

"Gavegan!" exclaimed Hunt. "You picked a tough bird. Young man, you'reoff to a grand start--a charge of assault on an officer the very daythey turn you out of jail. "

Larry smiled. "Gavegan is a dirty one, but he'll make no charge ofassault. He claims to be heavy-weight champion boxer of the PoliceDepartment. Put a fine crimp in his reputation, wouldn't it, if headmitted in public that he'd been knocked out by a fellow, bare-handed, supposed to be weak from prison life, forty pounds lighter. He'd get thegrand razoo all along the line. Oh, Gavegan will never let out a peep. "

"He'll square things in some other way, " said Hunt. 

"I suppose he'll try, " Larry responded carelessly. "Where's thefirst-aid room?"

Hunt showed him through the curtains. When he came out, Hunt, Maggie, and the Duchess were all engaged in getting the dinner upon the table. Additional help would only be interference, so Larry's eyes wanderedcasually to the canvases standing in the shadows against the walls. 

"Mr. Hunt, " he remarked, "you seem to have earned a very real reputationof its sort in the neighborhood. Old Isaac downstairs told me you werecrazy--said they called you 'Nuts'--said you were the worst painter thatever happened. "

"Yeh, that's what they say, " agreed Hunt. 

"They certainly are awful, Larry, " put in Maggie, coming to his side. "Father thinks they are jokes, and father certainly knows pictures. Justlook at a few of them. "

"Yeh, look at 'em and have a good laugh, " invited Hunt. 

Larry carried the portrait of the Duchess to beneath the swingingelectric bulb and examined it closely. Maggie, at his shoulder, waitedfor his mirth; and Hunt regarded him with a sidelong gaze. But Larrydid not laugh. He silently returned the picture, and then examined theportrait of Old Jimmie--then of Maggie--then of the Italian madonna, throned on her curbstone. He replaced this last and crossed swiftly toHunt. Maggie watched this move in amazement. 

Larry faced the big painter. His figure was tense, his features hardwith suspicion. That moment one could understand why he was sometimescalled "Terrible Larry"; just then he looked a devastating explosionthat was still unexploded. 

"What's your game down here, Hunt?" he demanded harshly. 

"My game?" repeated the big painter. "I don't get you. "

"Yes, you do! You're down here posing as a boob who smears up canvases!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Only this: those are not crazy daubs. They're real pictures!"

"Eh!" exclaimed Hunt. Maggie stared in bewilderment at the two men. 

Hunt spoke again. "What the dickens do you know about pictures? OldJimmie, who's said to be a shark, thinks all these things are justcomics. "

"Jimmie only thinks a picture's good after a thousand press-agents havesaid it's good, " Larry returned. "I studied at the Academy of Design fortwo years, till I learned I could never paint. But I know pictures. "

"And you think mine are good?"

"Not in the popular manner--they're too original. But they're great. Andyou're a great painter. And I want to know--"

"Hurray!" shouted Hunt, and flung an enthusiastic arm about Larry, andbegan to pound his back. "Oh, boy! Oh, boy!"

Larry wrenched himself free. "Cut that out. Then you admit you're agreat painter?"

"Of course I'm a great painter!" shouted Hunt. "Who should know itbetter than I do?"

"Then what's a great painter doing down here? What's the game you'retrying to put over, posing as--"

"Listen, son, " Hunt grinned. "You've called me and I've got to show mycards. Only you mustn't ever tell--nor must Maggie; the Duchess doesn'ttalk, anyway. No need bothering you just now with a lot of details aboutmyself. It's enough to say that people wouldn't pay me except when I didthe usual pretty rot; no one believed in the other stuff I wanted todo. I wanted to get away from that bunch; I wanted to do real studiesof human people, with their real nature showing through. So I beat it. Understand so far?"

"But why pose as a dub down here?"

"I never started the yarn that I was a dub. The people who looked at mywork, and laughed, started that talk. I didn't shout out that I wasa great artist for the mighty good reason that if I had, and had beenbelieved, the people who posed for me either wouldn't have done it orwould have been so self-conscious that they would have tried to looklike some one else, and would never have shown me themselves at all. Thinking me a joke, they just acted natural. Which, young man, is aboutall you need to know. "

Maggie looked on breathlessly at the two men, bewildered by this newlight in which Hunt was presented, and fascinated by the tense alertnessof her hero, Larry. 

Slowly Larry's tensity dissipated. "I don't know about the rest of yourmake-up, " he said slowly, "but as a painter you're a whale. "

"The rest of him's all right, too, " put in the dry, unemotional voice ofthe Duchess. "Dinner's ready. Come on. "

As they moved to the table Hunt clapped a big hand on Larry's shoulder. "And to think, " he chuckled, "it took a crook fresh from Sing Sing todiscover me as a great artist! You're clever, Larry--clever! Maggie, getthe corkscrew into action and fill the glasses with the choicest vintageof H2O. A toast. Here's to Larry!"

CHAPTER V

The dinner was simple: beef stewed with potatoes and carrots and onions, and pie, and real coffee. But it measured up to Hunt's boast: the chefof the Ritz, limited to so simple a menu, could indeed have done nobetter. And Larry, after his prison fare, was dining as dine the gods. 

The irrepressible Hunt, trying to read this new specimen that had comeunder his observation, sought to draw Larry out. "Barney Palmer andOld Jimmie were here this afternoon, wanting to see you. They've gotsomething big waiting for you. I suppose you're all ready to jump in andput it over with a wallop. "

"I'm going to put something over with a wallop--but I guess businesswill have to wait until Barney, Jimmie, and I have a talk. Can you spareme a little more of that stew?"

His manner of speaking was a quiet announcement to Hunt that his planswere for the present a closed subject. Hunt felt balked, for this lean, alert, much-talked-of adventurer piqued him greatly; but he switched toother subjects, and during the rest of the meal did most of the talking. The Duchess was silent, and seemingly was concerned only with herfood. Larry got in a fair portion of speech, but for the most part hisattention, except for that required for eating, was fixed upon Maggie. 

How she had sprung up since he had last seen her! Almost a womannow--and destined to be a beauty! And more than just a beauty: she wascolorful, vital, high-strung. Before he had gone away he had regardedher with something akin to the negligent affection of an older brother. But this thing which was already beginning to surge up in him wasaltogether different, and he knew it. 

As for Maggie, when she looked at him, she flushed and her eyes grewbright. Larry was back!--the brilliant, daring Larry. She was aware thatshe had been successful in startling and gripping his attention. Yes, they would do great things together!

When the dinner was finished and the dishes washed, Larry gave voice tothis new urge that had so quickly grown up within him. 

"What do you say, Maggie, to a little walk?"

"All right, " she replied eagerly. 

They went down the narrow stairway together. On the landing of thesecond floor, which contained only Maggie's bedroom and the Duchess'sand a tiny kitchen, Maggie started to leave him to change into streetclothes; but he caught her arm and said, "Come on. " They descended thenext flight and came into the back room behind the pawnshop, which theDuchess used as a combination of sitting-room, office, and storeroom. About this musty museum hung or stood unredeemed seamen's jackets, menand women's evening wear, banjos, guitars, violins, umbrellas, and onehuge green stuffed parrot sitting on top of the Duchess's safe. 

"I wanted to talk, not walk, " he said. "Let's stay here. "

He took her hands and looked down on her steadily. Under the yellowgaslight her face gleamed excitedly up into his, her breath camequickly. 

"Well, sir, what do you think of me?" she demanded. "Have I changedmuch?"

"Changed? Why, it's magic, Maggie! I left you a schoolgirl; you're awoman now. And a wonder!"

"You think so?" She flushed with pride and pleasure, and a wildness ofspirit possessed her and demanded expression in action. She freedher left hand and slipped it over Larry's shoulder. "Come on--let'stwo-step. "

"But, Maggie, I've forgotten. "

"Come on!"

Instantly she was dragging him over the scanty floor space. But after amoment he halted, protesting. 

"These prison brogans were not intended by their builders for suchwork. If you've got to dance, you'll have to work it out of your systemalone. "

"All right!"

At once, in the midst of the dingy room, humming the music, shewas doing Carmen's dance--wild, provocative, alluring. It was not aremarkable performance in any professionally technical sense; but it hadvivid personality; she was light, lithe, graceful, flashing with colorand spirits. 

"Maggie!" he exclaimed, when she had finished and stood before himglowing and panting. "Good! Where did you learn that?"

"In the chorus of a cabaret revue. "

"Is that what you're doing now, working in a chorus?"

"No. Barney and father said a chorus was no place for me. " She drewnearer. "Oh, Larry, I've such a lot to tell you. "

"Go on. "

"Well"--she cocked her head impishly--"I've been going to school. "

"Going to school! Where?"

"Lots of places. Just now I'm going to school at the Ritzmore Hotel. "

"At the Ritzmore Hotel!" He stared at her bewildered. "What are youlearning there?"

"To be a lady. " She laughed at his increasing bewilderment. "A reallady, Larry, " she went on excitedly. "Oh, it's such a wonderful idea!Father had never seemed to think much of me till the night I went toa masquerade ball with Mr. Hunt, and he and Barney saw me in theseclothes. They had never seen me really dressed up before; Barney said itwas an eye-opener. They saw how I could be of big use to you all. But tobe that, I've got to be a lady--a real lady, who knows how to behave andwear real clothes. That's what they're doing now: making me a lady. "

"Making you a lady!" exclaimed Larry. "How?"

"By putting me where I can watch real ladies, and study them. Barney cutshort my being in a chorus; Barney said a chorus girl never learned topass for a lady. So I've been working in places where the swellest womencome. First in a milliner shop; then as dresser to a model in the shopof a swell modiste; always watching how the ladies behave. Now I'm atthe Ritzmore, and I carry a tray of cigarettes around the tables atlunch and at tea-time and during dinner and during the after-theatersupper. I'm supposed to be there to sell cigarettes, but I'm reallythere to watch how the ladies handle their knives and forks and behavetoward the men. Isn't it all awfully clever?"

"Why, Maggie!" he exclaimed. 

"And pretty soon, when I've learned more, " she continued rapidly, "I'mgoing to have swell clothes of my own--and be a lady--and get away fromthis dingy, stuffy, dead old place! I can't stand for being buried downhere much longer. And, oh, Larry, I'm going to begin to work with you!"

"What?" he blinked, not yet quite understanding. 

"You think I'm not clever enough? But I am!" she protested. "I tell youI've learned a lot. And Barney and father have let me help in a lot ofthings--nothing really big yet, of course. They think I'm going to bea wonder. Just to-day father was saying that you and I, teamed up--Why, what's the matter, Larry?"

"You and I--teamed up, " he repeated slowly. 

"Yes. Don't you like the idea?"

His hands suddenly gripped her bare shoulders. 

"There's nothing to it!" he exclaimed almost savagely. 

"What's that?" she cried, startled. 

"I tell you there's nothing to it!"

"You--you think I can't put it over?"

"You can't! And I'm not going to have it!"

"Why--why--"

Staring, she drew slowly away from him. His face, which a few momentsbefore had been smiling, was now harsh and dominant with decision. She had heard him spoken of as "Laughing Larry"; and also as "TerribleLarry" whose aroused will none could brook. He looked this latter personnow, and she could not understand. 

But though she could not understand, her own defiant spirit stormed upto fight this unexpected opposition. He didn't believe in her--that wasit! He didn't think she was equal to working with him! Her young figurestiffened in angered pride, and her mind was gathering hot phrasesto fling at him when the door from the pawnshop began to creak open. Instantly Larry turned toward it, relaxed and yet alert for anything. Old Jimmie and Barney Palmer entered. 

"Hello, Larry!" cried the old man, crossing. "Welcome to our city!"

"Hello, Jimmie. Hello, Barney. " And Larry shook hands with his partnersof other days. 

"Gee, Larry, it's good to see you!" exclaimed the cunning-eyed old man. "Didn't know you were back till I bumped into Gavegan on Broadway. Hetold me, and so Barney and I beat it over here to see you. Believe me, Larry, that flatfoot is certainly sore at you!"

Larry ignored the last sentence. "Think it exactly wise for you two tocome here?"

"Why, Larry?"

"Gavegan, Casey, the police, may follow, thinking you've come to see mefor some purpose. That outfit may act upon suspicion. "

Jimmie grinned cunningly. "A man can come to visit his own daughter asoften as he likes. Father love, Larry. "

"I see; that'll be your explanation. " Larry's eyes grew keen at the newunderstanding. "I hadn't thought of that before, Jimmie. So that's whyyou've always boarded Maggie around in shady joints: so's you could meetyour pals and yet always have the excuse that you had come to meet yourdaughter?"

"Partly that, " smiled Old Jimmie blandly--perhaps too blandly. "Supposewe sit down. "

They did so, Maggie sitting a little apart from the men and regardingLarry with indignant, questioning eyes. She still could not understandhis queer behavior when she had announced her intention of working withhim. Could it be, as her father had said, because he would never workwith women--not trusting them? She'd show him!

She was so occupied with this wonderment that she gave no heed to thetalk about Larry's experience in Sing Sing and Old Jimmie's recital ofwhat had happened among Larry's friends during his absence. During thisgossip the Duchess entered from the stairway, and without word to anyone shuffled across to her desk in a corner and bent silently over heraccounts: just one more grotesque and unredeemed pledge in this museumof antiquities and forgotten pawns. 

Presently Barney Palmer, who had been impatient during all this, brokeout with:

"Aw, let's cut out this chatter about what used to be and get down tocases. Jimmie, will you spill the business to Larry, or want me to?"

"I'll tell him. Listen, Larry. " Maggie pricked up her ears; the talk wasnow excitingly important. "We've got our very greatest game all plannedout. Stock-selling game; going to unload the whole thing on one sucker, and we've got the sucker picked out. Besides you and Barney and me, there's Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt in it--a classy bunch allright. And we think that for the woman end we'll take in Mae Gorham. She's clever and innocent-eyed--"

"But I thought you were going to take me in!" protested Maggie. 

"Maggie'll be just as good as Mae Gorham, " put in Barney. 

"We'll let that pass, " said Old Jimmie. "The main thing, Larry, is thateverything is ready. It's a whale of a business proposition. We've beenwaiting for you; you're all that's lacking--the brainy guy to sit behindthe scenes and manage the thing. You've handled the bunch for a longtime, and they want you to handle this. For you're sure a wonder atbusiness, Larry! None keener. Well, we've held this off waiting for youfor a month. How about jumping right in?"

All three eyed Larry. His lean face was expressionless. He lit acigarette, rose and leaned against the Duchess's safe on which stood thegreen parrot, and, gaze on the floor, slowly exhaled smoke through hisnostrils. 

"Well?" demanded Barney. 

Larry looked at the two men with quiet, even eyes. "Thanks to both ofyou. It's a great compliment. But I've had time to do a little planningmyself up in Sing Sing, and I've worked out a game that's got this onebeat a mile. "

"Hell!" ejaculated Barney in wrathful disgust. "Jimmie, I told you wewere wasting time waiting for him!"

"Hold on a second, Barney. If Larry's worked out a better game, he'lltake us into it. But, Larry, how can your game beat this one?"

"Because there's more money in it. And because it's safer. "

"Safe! Aw, hell!" The smouldering jealousy and hatred glared outof Barney's greenish eyes. "I always knew you had a yellow streak!Something safe! Aw, hell!"

"Don't blow up, Barney. What is the new game, Larry?" queried the oldman. 

Larry regarded the two men steadfastly. He seemed reluctant to speak. 

"Well?" prompted Old Jimmie. "Is it something you don't want to let usin on?"

"Of course I'll let you in on it, and be glad to, if you want to comein, " Larry replied in his level tone. "As I said, I've thought it allout and it's a great proposition. Here's the game: I'm going to runstraight. "

For a moment all three sat astounded by this quiet statement from theirleader. Nothing he might have said could have been more unexpected, morestupefying. The Duchess alone moved; she turned her head and held hersunken eyes upon her grandson. 

Simultaneously the two men and Maggie stood up. 

"The hell you say!" grated Barney Palmer. 

"Larry, you gone crazy?" cried Old Jimmie. 

Maggie moved a pace nearer him. "Going to go straight?" she askedincredulously. 

"Listen, all of you, " Larry said quietly. "No, Jimmie, I've not gonecrazy. I'm merely going a little sane. You just said I was a wonderat business, Jimmie. I think I am myself. I thought it all over as abusiness proposition. Suppose we clean up fifty or a hundred thousand ona big deal. We've got to split it several ways, perhaps pay a big pieceto the police for protection, perhaps pay a lot of lawyers, and thenperhaps get sent away for a year or several years, during which we don'ttake in a nickel. I figured that over a term of years my average incomewas mighty small. As a business man it seemed to me that I was in a poorbusiness, with no future. So I decided to get into a new business thathad a future. That's the size of it. "

"You're turning yellow--that's the real size of it!" snarled BarneyPalmer, half starting toward him. 

"Better be a little careful, Barney, " Larry warned with tightening jaw. 

"You really mean, Larry, " demanded Old Jimmie, "that you're going todrop us after us counting on you and waiting for you so long?"

"I'm sorry about having kept you waiting, Jimmie. But we've parteddefinitely. " Then Larry added: "Unless you want to travel my road. "

"Your road! Never!" snapped Barney. 

"And you, Jimmie?" Larry inquired, his eyes on Barney's inflamed face. 

"I don't see your proposition. And I'm too old a bird to start somethingnew. No, thanks. I'll stick to what I know. "

His next words, showing his long yellow teeth, were spoken slowly, butthey were hard, and had a cutting edge. "You've got a sweet idea ofwhat's straight, Larry: dropping us without a leader, just when we needa leader most. "

Larry's composed yet watchful gaze was still on Barney. "You're notreally left in such a bad way. Barney here is ready to take charge. "

"You bet I am!" Barney flamed at him, his hands clenching. "And thebunch won't lose by the change, you bet! The bunch always thought youwere an ace--and I always knew you were a two-spot. And now they'll seeI was right--that you were always yellow!"

Larry still leaned against the safe in the same posture of seeming ease, but he expected Barney to strike at any moment, and held himself inreadiness for a flashing fist. Barney had been hard to hold in leash inthe old days; now that all ties of partnership were broken, he saw inthose small gleaming eyes a defiance and a hatred that henceforth hadno reason for restraint. And he knew that Barney was shrewd, grimlytenacious, and limitless in self-confidence and ambition. 

"And listen to this, too, Larry Brainard, " Barney's temper carried himon. "Don't you mix in and try any preaching on Maggie. " He half turnedhis head jealously. "Maggie, don't you listen to any of this boob'sSalvation Army talk!"

Maggie did not at once respond, but stood gazing at the two confrontingfigures. To her they were an oddly dissimilar pair: Barney in thesmartest clothes that an over-smart Broadway tailor could create, andLarry in the shapeless garments that were the State's gift to him onleaving prison. 

"Maggie, " he repeated, "don't you listen to this boob's talk!"

"I'll do just as I please, Barney. "

"But you're going to come our way?" he demanded. 

"Of course. "

He turned back to Larry. "You hear that? You leave Maggie alone!"

Larry did not answer, though his temper was rising. He looked overBarney's head at Maggie's father. 

"Jimmie, " he remarked in his same even voice, "anything more you'd liketo say?"

"I'm through. "

"Then, " said Larry, "better lead your new commander-in-chief out ofhere, or I'll carry him out and spank him. "

"What's that?" snarled Barney. 

"Get out!" Larry ordered, in a voice suddenly like steel. 

Barney's fist swung viciously at Larry's head. It did not land, becauseLarry's head was elsewhere. Larry did not take advantage of the openingto strike back, but as the fist flashed by he seized the wrist, andin the same instant he seized the other wrist. The next moment he heldBarney helpless in a twisting, torturing grip that he had learned fromone of his non-Christian friends at the Y. M. C. A. 

"Barney--are you going to walk out, or shall I kick you out?"

Barney's answer came after a moment through gritted teeth: "I'll walkout--but I'll get you for this!"

"I know you'll try, Barney. And I know you'll try to get me behind myback. " Larry loosed his grip. "Good-night. "

Barney backed glowering to the door; and Old Jimmie, his gray face anexpressionless mask, silently followed him out. 

All this while the Duchess had looked on, motionless in her corner, adingy, forgotten part of the dingy background--no more noticeable thanone of her own dusty, bizarre pledges. 

CHAPTER VI

For a moment after the door had closed upon Barney and Old Jimmie, Larrystood gazing at it. Then he turned to Maggie. 

She was standing slenderly upright. Her head was imperiously high, her black eyes defiant. Neither spoke at once. More than before was heimpressed by her present and her potential beauty. Till this night hehad thought of her only casually, as merely a young girl; he was not nowconsciously in love with her--her young woman-hood had burst upon himtoo suddenly for such a consciousness--but a warm tingling went throughhim as he gazed at her imperious, self-confident youth. Part of his mindwas thinking much the same thought that Hunt had considered a few hoursearlier: here were the makings of a magnificent adventuress. 

"Maggie, " he mused, "you didn't get your looks from your father. Youmust have had a fine-looking mother. "

"I don't know--I never saw her, " she returned shortly. 

"Poor kid, " Larry mused on--"and with only Old Jimmie for a father. " Shedid not know what to say. For a long time she had dreamed of this man asher hero; she had dreamed of splendid adventures with him in which sheshould win his praise. And now--and now--

He switched to another subject. 

"So you have decided to string along with your father and Barney?"

"I have. "

"Don't you do it, Maggie. "

"Don't you preach, Larry. "

"I'm not preaching. I'm just talking business to you. The same as Italked business to myself. The crooked game is a poor business for awoman who can do something else--and you can do something else. I'veknown a lot of women in the crooked game. They've all had a rottenfinish, or are headed for one. So forget it, Maggie. There's more in thestraight game. "

She had swiftly come to feel herself stronger and wiser than herex-hero. In her tremendous pride and confidence of eighteen, sheregarded him almost with pitying condescension. 

"Something's softened your brain, Larry. I know better. The people whopretend to go straight are just fakes; they're playing a different kindof a smooth game, that's all. Everybody is out to get his, and get itthe easiest and quickest way he can. You know that's so. And that's justwhat I am going to do. "

Larry had once talked much the same way, but it seemed puzzlinglystrange just now to hear such talk from a young girl. Then heunderstood. 

"You couldn't help having such ideas, Maggie, living among crooksever since you were a kid. Why, Old Jimmie could not have used bettermethods, or got better results, if he had set out consciously to makeyou a crook. " Then a sudden possibility came to him. "D'you suppose hecould always have had that plan--to make you into a crook?" he asked. 

"What difference does that make?" she demanded shortly. 

"A funny thing for a father to do with his own child, " Larry returned. "But whether Jimmie intended it or not, that's just what he's done. "

"What I am, I am, " she retorted with her imperious defiance. Just thenshe felt that she hated him; she quivered with a desire to hurt him: hehad so utterly destroyed her romantic hero and her romantic dreams. Herhands clenched. 

"You talk about going straight--it's all rot!" she flamed at him. "A lotof men say they're going straight, but no one ever does! And you won'teither!"

"You think I won't?"

"I know you won't! You don't know how to do any regular work. And, besides, no one will give a crook a chance. "

She had unerringly placed her finger upon his two great problems, andLarry knew it; he had considered them often enough. 

"All the same, I'm going to make good!" he declared. 

"Oh, no, you're not!"

Perhaps he was stirred chiefly by the sting of her taunting tongue, by the blaze of her dark, disdainful eyes; and perhaps by the changedfeeling toward this creature whom he had left a half-grown girl andreturned to find a woman. At any rate, he crossed and seized her wristsand gazed fiercely down upon her. 

"I tell you, I'm going to go straight, and I'm going to make a successof it! You'll see!" And then he added dominantly: "What's more, I'mgoing to make you go straight, too!"

She made no attempt to free herself, but blazed up at him defiantly. "You'll make me do nothing. I'm going to be just what I said, and I'mgoing to make a success of it. Just wait--I'll prove to you what I cando! And you--you'll be a failure, and will come slinking back and beg usto take you in!"

They glared at each other silently, angrily, their aroused wills defyingeach other. For a moment they stood so. Then something--a mixture of hisdesire to dominate this defiant young thing and of that growing changein him toward her--surged madly into Larry's head. He caught Maggie inhis arms and kissed her. 

All the rigidity went suddenly from her figure and she hung loose in hisembrace. Their gazes held for a moment. She went pale, and quiveringall through she looked up at him in startled, wide-eyed silence. Asfor Larry, a dizzying, throbbing emotion permeated his whole astonishedbeing. 

Suddenly she pushed herself free from his relaxing arms, and backed awayfrom him. 

"What did you do that for?" she whispered huskily. 

But she did not wait for his answer. She turned and hurried for thestairway. Three steps up she turned again and gazed down upon him. Hercheeks were once more flushed and her dark eyes blazing. 

"It's going to be just as I said!" she flung at him. "I'm going tosucceed--you're going to fail! You just wait and see!"

She turned and ran swiftly up the stairway and out of sight. Neither ofthem had been aware that the Duchess, a drab figure merged into a drabbackground, had regarded them fixedly during all this scene. And Larrywas still unconscious that the old eyes were now watching him with theirdeep-set, expressionless fixity. 

Motionless, Larry stood gazing at where Maggie had been. Within him wastumult; he did not yet understand the significance of that impulsivekiss... He began to walk the floor, his mind and will now more incontrol. Yes, he was going to go straight; he was going to make good, and make good in a big way! And he was going to make Maggie go straight, too. He'd show her! It wasn't going to be easy, but he had his big planmade, and he had determination, and he knew he'd win in the end. Yes, he'd show her!... 

Up before the mirror Maggie sat looking intently at herself. Part ofher consciousness was wondering about that kiss, and part kept fiercelyrepeating that she'd show him--she'd show him--she'd show him!... 

Looking thus into their futures they were both very certain ofthemselves and of the roads which they were to travel. 

CHAPTER VII

Larry was still gazing at where Maggie had stood, flashing her defianceat him, when Hunt came thumping down the stairway. 

"Hello, young fellow; what you been doing to Maggie?" demanded thepainter. 

"Why?"

"Her door was open when I came by and I called to her. She didn'tanswer, but, oh, what a look! What's in the air?"

And then Hunt noted the Duchess apart in her corner. "I say, Duchess--what were Larry and Maggie rowing about?"

"Grandmother!" Larry exclaimed with a start. "I'd forgotten you werehere! You must have heard it all--go ahead and tell him. "

"Tell him yourself, " returned the Duchess. 

Larry and Hunt took chairs, and Larry gave the gist of what he had saidabout his decision to Barney and Old Jimmie and Maggie. The Duchess, still motionless at her desk as she had been all during Larry's scenewith Old Jimmie and Barney, and then his scene with Maggie, regardedher grandson with that emotionless, mummified face in which only thered-margined eyes showed life or interest. 

"So you're going to go straight, eh?" queried Hunt. The big painter satwith his long legs sprawling in front of him, a black pipe in his mouth, and looked at Larry skeptically. "You certainly did hand a jolt to yourfriends who'd been counting on you. And yet you're sore because theywere sore at you and didn't believe in you. "

"Did I say that I was sore?" queried Larry. 

"No, but you're acting it. And you're sore at Maggie because she didn'tbelieve that you could make good or that you'd stick it out. Well, Idon't believe you will either. "

"You're a great painter, Hunt, and a great cook--but I don't give a damnwhat you believe. "

"Keep your shirt on, young fellow, " Hunt responded, puffingimperturbably. "I say I believe you won't win out--but that's not sayingI don't want you to win out. If that's what you want to do, go to it, and may luck be with you, and may the devil stay in hell. The morals ofother people are out of my line--none of my business. I'm a painter, andit's my business to paint people as I find them. But Maggie certainlydid put her finger on the tough spot in your proposition: for a crook tofind a job and win the confidence of people. It's up grade all the way, and it takes ten men's nerve to stick it out to the top. Yep, Maggie wassure right!"

And then the Duchess broke her accustomed silence with her thin croak:

"Never you mind Maggie! She thinks she knows everything, but she doesn'tknow anything. "

Larry looked in surprise at his grandmother. There was a flash in herold eyes; but the next moment the spark was gone. 

"Sure you're up against it--but I'll be rooting for you. " Hunt wasgrinning. "But say, young fellow, what made you decide to vote the otherticket?"

Larry was trained at reading faces; and in the rough-hewn, grinningfeatures of Hunt he read good-fellowship. Larry swiftly responded inkind, for from the moment he had pulled the mask of being a fool fromthe painter and shown him to be a real artist, he had felt drawn towardthis impecunious swashbuckler of the arts. So he now repeated thebusiness motives which he had presented to Barney and Old Jimmie. AsLarry talked he became more spontaneous, and after a time he was tellingof the effect upon him of seeing various shrewd men locked up andunexercised in prison. And presently his reminiscence settled upon oneprison acquaintance: a man past middle age, clever in his generation, who had already done some fifteen years of a long sentence. He was, saidLarry, grim and he rarely spoke; but a close, wordless friendship haddeveloped between them. Only once, in an unusually relaxed mood, hadthe old convict spoken of himself, but what he had then said had had agreater part in rousing Larry to his new decision than the words of anyother man. 

"It was a queer story Joe let out, " continued Larry. "Before he wassent away he had a kid, just a baby whose mother was dead. He told mehe wanted to have his kid brought up without ever knowing anything aboutthe kind of people he knew and the kind of life he'd lived. He wanted itto grow up among decent people. He had money put away and he had anold friend, a pal, that he'd trust with anything. So he turned over hismoney and his baby to his friend, and gave orders that the kid was tobe brought up decent, sent to school, and that the kid was never toknow anything about Joe. Of course the baby was too young then ever toremember him; and when he gets out he's going to keep absolutely clearof the kid's life--he wants his kid to have the best possible chance. "

"What is his whole name, and what was he sent up for?" queried theDuchess, that flickering fire of interest once more in her old eyes. 

"Joe Ellison. He was an old-time confidence man. He got caught ina jam--there had been drinking--there was some shooting--and he hadattempted manslaughter tacked on to the charge of swindling. But Joesaid everybody had been drinking and that the shooting was accidental. "

"Joe Ellison--I knew him, " said the Duchess. "He was about the cleverestman of his day. But I never knew he had a child. Who was this bestfriend of his?"

"Joe Ellison didn't mention his name, " answered Larry. "You see Joespoke of his story only once. But he then said that he'd had lettersonce a month telling how fine the kid was getting on--till three orfour years ago when he got word that his friend had died. The way thingsstand now, Joe won't know how to find the kid when he gets out even ifhe should want to find it--and he wouldn't know it even if he saw it. Up in Sing Sing when I had nothing else to do, " concluded Larry, "Itell you I thought a lot about that situation--for it certainly is somesituation: Joe Ellison for fifteen years in prison with just one bigidea in his life, the idea being the one thing he felt he was reallydoing or ever could do, his very life built on that one idea:that outside, somewhere, was his kid growing up into a fine youngperson--never guessing it had such a father--and Joe never intending tosee it again and not being able to know it if he ever should see it. I tell you, after learning Joe's story, it made me feel that I'd hadenough of the old life. "

Again the Duchess spoke. "Did Joe ever mention its name?"

"No, he just spoke of it as 'his kid. '"

Larry was quiet a moment. "You see, " he added, "I want to get settledbefore Joe comes out--his time's up in a few months--so that I can givehim some sort of place near me. He's all right, Joe is; but he's tooold to have any show at a fresh start if he tries to make it all on hisown. "

"Larry, you haven't got such a tough piece of old brass for a heartyourself, " commented Hunt. "What are your own plans?"

"I know I've got the makings of a real business man--I've already toldyou that, " said Larry confidently. He had thought this out carefullyduring his days as a coal-passer and his long nights upon theeighteen-inch bunk in his cell. "I've got a lot of the finishingtouches; I know the high spots. What I need are the rudiments--thefundamentals--connecting links. You see, I had part of a businesscollege training a long time before I went to work in a broker's office, stenography and typewriting; I've been a secretary in the warden'soffice the last few months and I've brushed up on the old stuff andI'm pretty good. That ought to land me a job. Then I'm going to studynights. Of course, I'd get on faster if I could have private lessonswith one of the head men of one of these real business schools. I'd mopup this stuff about organization and management mighty quick, for thatbusiness stuff comes natural to me. A bit of that sort of going toschool would connect up and give a working unity to what I already know. But then I'll find a job and work the thing out some way. I'm in this towin out, and win out big!"

Once more the rarely heard voice of the Duchess sounded, and though thinit had a positive quality:

"You're not going to take any job at first. First thing, you're going togive all your time to those private lessons. "

Larry gazed at the Duchess, surprised by the tone in which she spoke. "But, grandmother, these lessons cost money. And I didn't have a thindime left when my lawyers finished with me. "

"I've got plenty of money--and it's yours. And the money you get from mewill be honest money, too; the interest on loans made in my pawnshopis honest all right. It'll be better, anyhow, for you to be out in theworld a few days, getting used to it, before you take a job. "

"Why, grandmother!"

The explanation seemed bald and inadequate, but Larry did not know whatelse to say, he was so taken aback. The Duchess, as far as he had beenable to see, had never shown much interest in him. And now, unless hewas mistaken, there was something very much like emotion quavering inher thin voice and shining in her old eyes. 

"I don't interfere with what people want to do, " she continued--"but, Larry, I'm glad you've decided to go straight. "

And then the Duchess went on to make the longest speech that any livingperson had ever heard issue from her lips, and to reveal more thanhad yet been heard of that unmysterious mystery which lived within hershriveled, misshapen figure:

"That's what made me interested in Joe Ellison's story--his wanting toget his child clear of the life he was living; though I didn't know hehad any such ideas till you told me. Larry, I couldn't get out of thislife myself; I was part of it, I belonged to it. But I felt the same asJoe Ellison, and over forty years ago I got your mother out of it, andyour mother never came back to it. I did that much. After she died itmade me sick when you, all I've got left, began to go crooked. But I hadno control over you; I couldn't do anything. So I'm glad that at lastyou're going to go straight. I'm glad, Larry!"

The emotion that had given her voice a strange and increasing vibrance, was suddenly brought under control or snuffed out; and she added in herusual thin, mechanical tone: "The money will be ready for you in themorning. "

Startled and embarrassed by this outbreak of things long hidden beneaththe dust in the secret chambers of her being, and wishing to avoidthe further embarrassment of thanks, the Duchess turned quickly andawkwardly back to her desk, and her bent old body became fixed aboveher figures. In a moment the ever-alert Hunt had out the little blockof drawing-paper he always carried in a pocket, and with swift, eagerstrokes he was sketching the outline of that bent, shrunken shape thathad subsided so swiftly from emotion to the commonplace. 

Larry gazed at the Duchess in silent bewilderment. He had thought he hadknown his grandmother. He was now realizing that perhaps he did not knowhis grandmother at all. 

CHAPTER VIII

That night Larry slept on a cot set up in Hunt's studio. Hunt had madethe proposition that Larry consider the studio his headquarters forthe present, and Larry had accepted. Of course the cot and therough-and-ready furnishings of the studio were grotesquely short of theluxury of those sunny days when Larry had had plenty of easy money andhad been free to gratify his taste for the best of everything; but thequarters were infinitely more luxurious and comfortable than his morerecent three-by-seven room at Sing Sing with its damp and chilly stonewalls. 

There were many reasons why Larry was appealed to by the idea of makinghis home for the present in this old house in this dingy, unexciting, unromantic street. He was drawn toward this bluff, outspoken, autocraticpainter, and was curious about him. And then the way his grandmother hadspoken, the gleam in her old eyes, had stirred an affection for herthat he had never before felt. And then there was Maggie, with herstartlingly new dusky beauty, her admiration of him that had so swiftlyaltered to defiance, her challenge to a duel of purposes. 

Yes, for the present, this dingy old house in this dingy old street wasjust the place he preferred to be. 

It was not the part of wisdom to start forth on the beginning of his newcareer in his shapeless prison shoddy; so the next day Larry potteredabout the studio, acting as maid-of-all-work, while the clothes in histrunk which had been stored with the Duchess were being sponged andpressed by the little tailor down the street, and while a laundress, driven by the Duchess, was preparing the rest of his outfit for hisdebut. In his capacity of maid, with a basket on his arm, he went outinto the little street, where in his shabby clothes he was recognized bynone and leaned for a time against the mongrel, underfed tree that washesitatingly greeting the spring with a few half-hearted leaves. Hebathed himself in the warm sun which seemed over-glorious for so meana street; he filled his lungs with the tangy May air; yes, it waswonderful to be free again!

Then he strolled about the street on his business of marketing. Itamused him to be buying three pounds of potatoes and a pound ofchopped meat and a package of macaroni, and to be counting Hunt'spennies--remembering those days when he had been a personage to headwaiters, and had had his table reserved, and with a careless Midas'sgesture had left a dollar, or five, or twenty, for the waiter's tip. 

When he climbed back into the studio he watched Hunt slashing about withhis paint. Hunt growled and roared at him, and kidded him; and Larrycame back at him with the same kind of verbal horseplay, after thefashion of men. Presently a relaxation, if not actual friendship, beganto develop in their attitude toward each other. 

"Tell you what, " Larry remarked, standing with legs wide apart gazing atthe picture of the Italian mother throned on the curb nursing her child, "if I were dolled up all proper, I bet I could take some of this stuffout and sell it for real dough. "

"Huh, nobody wants that stuff!" snorted Hunt. "It's too good. Sell it!You're off your bean, young fellow!"

"I can sell anything, my bucko, " Larry returned evenly. "All I need isa man who has plenty of money and a moderate willingness to listen. I've sold pictures of an oil derrick on a stock certificate, exact valuenothing at all, for a masterpiece's price--so I guess I could sell areal picture. "

"Aw, you shut up!"

"The real trouble with you, " commented Larry, "is that, though you canpaint, as a business man, as a promoter of your own stock, the sucklinginfant in that picture is a J. Pierpont Morgan of multiplied capacitycompared to--"

"Stop making that noise like a damned fool!"

This amiable pastime of throwing stones at each other was just theninterrupted by the entrance of Maggie for an appointed sitting, beforegoing to her business of carrying a tray of cigarettes about theRitzmore. She gave Hunt a pleasant "good-morning, " the pleasantnesspurposely stressed in order to make more emphatic her curt nod to Larryand the cold hostility of her eye. During the hour she posed, Larry, moving leisurely about his kitchen duties, addressed her several times, but no remark got a word from her in response. He took his rebuffssmilingly, which irritated her all the more. 

"Maggie, I'll get my real clothes late this afternoon; how about mydropping in at the Ritzmore for a cup of tea, and letting me buy somecigarettes and talk to you when you're not busy?" he inquired when Hunthad finished with her. 

"You may buy cigarettes, but you'll get no talk!" she snapped, and headhigh and dark eyes flashing contempt, she swept past him. 

Hunt watched her out. As the door slammed behind her, he remarked dryly, his eyes searching Larry keenly:

"Our young queen doesn't seem wildly enthusiastic about you or yourprogramme. "

"She certainly is not. "

"Don't let that worry you, young fellow. That's a common trait of herwhole tribe; women simply cannot believe in a man!"

There was an emphasis and a cynicism in this last remark which causedLarry to regard the painter searchingly. "You seem to know what it is. Don't mean to butt in, Hunt, if there are any trespassing signs up--butthere's a woman in your case?"

"Of course there is--there's always a woman; that's another reason I'mhere, " Hunt answered. "She didn't believe in me--didn't believe I couldpaint--didn't believe in the things I wanted to do--so I just picked upmy playthings and walked out of her existence. "

"Wife?" queried Larry. 

"Thank God, no!" exclaimed Hunt emphatically. "No--'I thankwhatever gods there be, I am the captain of my soul!' Oh, she's allright--altogether too good for me, " he added. "Here, try this tobacco. "

Larry picked up the pouch flung him and accepted without remark thisbeing abruptly shunted off the track. But he surmised that this womanin the background of Hunt's life meant a great deal more to the painterthan Hunt tried to indicate by his attempt to dismiss her casually--andLarry wondered what kind of woman she was, and what the story had been. 

The following day, clean-shaven and in his freshened clothes--they weresmart and well-tailored, though sober indeed compared with Barney's, and two years behind the style of which Barney's were the extremeexpression--Larry passed Maggie on the stairway with a smile, whogave him no smile in return, and started forth upon his quest. He waswell-dressed, he had money in his pockets, he had a plan, and the airof freedom of a new life was sweet in his nostrils. He was going tosucceed!

It was easy enough, with his mind alert for what he wanted, and with theDuchess's liberal allowance to pay for what he wanted, for Larry to findin this city of ten thousand institutes teaching business methods, the particular article which suited his especial needs. He found thisarticle in an institute whose black-faced headline in its advertisementswas, "We Make You a $50, 000 Executive"; and the article which he found, by payment of a special fee, was an old man who had been the manager ofa big brokerage concern until his growing addiction to drink and laterto drugs had rendered him undependable. But old Bronson certainly didknow the fundamentals and intricacies of the kind of big business whichis straight, and it was a delight to him to pour out his knowledge to akeen intelligence. 

Larry, in his own words, simply "mopped it up. " His experience had beenso wide and varied that he now had only to be shown a bone of factand almost instantly he visioned in their completeness unextinctichthyosauri of business. By day he fairly consumed old Bronson; he readdry books far into the night. Thus he rapidly filled the holes in thewalls of his knowledge, and strengthened its rather sketchy foundation. Of course he realized that what he was learning was in a sense academic;it had to be tested and developed and made flexible by experience; butthen much of it became instantly a living enlargement of the things ofwhich he was already a master. 

Old Bronson was delighted; he had never had so apt a pupil. "In lessthan no time you'll be the real head of that house you're with!" heproudly declared. Larry had not seen it as needful to tell the truthabout himself; his casual story was that he was there putting to use amonth's holiday granted him by a mythical firm in Chicago. 

The Duchess's statement that it would be best for him not to seek workat once was founded on wisdom. Larry was busy and interested, but hedid not yet have to face the constant suspicion and hostility which areusually the disheartening lot of the ex-convict who asks for a position. In this period his confidence and his purpose expanded with newvitality. 

As the busy days passed down in the little street, the banteringfellowship between Larry and Hunt took deeper root. The Duchess didnot again show any of the emotion which had gleamed in her briefly whenLarry had announced his new plan; but bent and silent went like an oddlyrevivified mummy about her affairs. And during these days he did notagain see Barney or Old Jimmie; he had learned that on the day followinghis conference with them they had gone to Chicago on a very privatematter of business. 

He saw Maggie daily, but she maintained the same attitude toward him. Hewas now conscious that he was in love. He saw splendid qualities in her, most of them latent. Maggie had determination, high spirits, cleverness, courage, and capacity for sympathy and affection; she had head, heart, and beauty, the makings of an unusual woman, if only she could be swunginto a different attitude of mind. But he realized that there was smallchance indeed of his working any alteration in her, much less winningher admitted regard, until he was definitely a success, until he haddefinitely proven himself right. So he took her rebuffs with a smile, and waited his time. 

He understood her point of view, and sympathized with her; for her pointof view had once been his own. With a growing understanding he saw heras the natural product of such a fathership as Old Jimmie's, and of thecynical environment which Old Jimmie had given her in which crime wasa matter of course. In this connection one matter that had previouslyinterested him began to engage his speculation more and more. Allher life, until recently, Old Jimmie had apparently shown little moreconcern over Maggie than one shows over a piece of baggage which isstored in this and that warehouse--and so valueless a piece of baggagein Old Jimmie's case that it had always been stored in the worstwarehouses. What was behind Old Jimmie's new interest in his daughter?

Old Jimmie had in late months awakened to the value to him of Maggie asa business proposition--that was Larry's answer to his own question. 

As for Maggie, during these days, the mere fact that Larry smiled at herand refused to get angry angered her all the more. Her anger at him, the manner in which he had refused her offered and long-dreamed-ofpartnership, would not permit her pride and self-confidence to considerany justification for him to enter her mind and argue in his behalf. Thegreat dream she had nourished had been destroyed. And, moreover, he hadproclaimed himself a fool. 

Yes, despite him and all he could do, she was going to go the brilliant, exciting way she had planned!

In fairness to Maggie it must be remembered that despite her assumedmaturity and self-confident wisdom, she really was only eighteen, andperhaps did not yet fully know herself, and had all the world yet tolearn. And it must be remembered that she believed herself entirelyin the right. This was a world where strength and cunning were thequalities that counted, and every one was trying to outwit his neighbor;and all who acted otherwise were either weak-witted fools or elsepretenders who saw in their hypocrisy the keenest game of all. Livingunder the influence of Old Jimmie, and later of Barney, and of theenvironment in which she had been bred, these beliefs had come to beher religion. She was thoroughly orthodox, and had the defensive andaggressive fervor which is the temper of militant orthodoxy. 

And so more keenly than ever, because she was more determined than ever, Maggie studied the groups of well-dressed men and women who ate anddanced at the Ritzmore, among whom she circulated in her short, smartskirt with her cigarette tray swung from her neck by a broad purpleribbon. Particularly she liked the after-theater crowd, for then onlyevening wear was permitted in the supper-room and the people were attheir liveliest. She liked to watch the famous professional coupledo their specialties on the glistening central space with the agilespot-lights always bathing them; and then watch the smartly dressedguests take the floor with the less practiced and more humble steps. Sometime soon she was going to have clothes as smart as any of these. Soon she would be one of these brilliant people, and have a life moreexciting than any. Very soon--for her apprenticeship was almost over!

Barney Palmer had these last few months, since he had discovered inMaggie a star who only needed coaching and then an opportunity, made ita practice to come for Maggie occasionally when one o'clock, New York'scurfew hour, dispersed the pleasure-seekers and ended Maggie's day ofwork, or rather her day of intensive schooling for her greater life. Onthe night of his return from Chicago, which was a week after his breakwith Larry, Barney reported to take Maggie home. He was in swaggerevening clothes and he asked the starter for a taxi; with an almostlordly air and for the service of a white-gloved gesture to a chauffeur, he carelessly handed the starter (who, by the way, was a richer manthan Barney) a crisp dollar bill. Barney was trying to make his bestimpression. 

"Seen much of that stiff, Larry Brainard?" he asked when the cab washeaded southward. 

His tone, which he tried to make merely contemptuous, conveyed the deepwrath which he still felt whenever his mind reverted to Larry. Maggiereserved to herself the privilege of thinking of Larry just as shepleased; but being the kind of girl she was, she could not help beingalso a bit of a coquette. 

"I didn't think he was such a stiff, Barney, " she said in anirritatingly pleasant voice. "His prison clothes were bad, but now thathe's dressed right I think he looks awfully nice. You and father havealways said he looked the perfect swell. "

"See here--has he been talking to you?" Barney demanded savagely. 

"A little. Yes, several times. In fact he said quite a lot that nightafter you'd gone. "

"What did he say?"

"He said he was not only going to go straight, but"--in her provocative, teasing voice--"he was going to make me go straight. "

"What's that? Tell me just what he said!" demanded Barney, his wrathsuddenly flaring into furious jealousy. 

Maggie told him in detail; in fact told him the scene in greater detailand with a greater length than had been the actuality. Also she censoredthe scene by omitting her own opposition to Larry's determination. Sheenjoyed playing with Barney, the exercise of the power she had overBarney's passions. 

"And you stood for all that!" cried Barney. By this time they were fardown town. "You listen to me, Maggie: What I said to Larry's face thatnight at the Duchess's still stands. I think he's yellow and has turnedagainst his old pals. I tell you what, I'm going to watch that guy!"

"You won't find it hard to watch him, Barney. Larry never hideshimself. "

"Oh, I'll watch him all right! And you, Maggie--why, you talk as thoughyou liked that line of talk he gave you!"

"Larry talks well--and I did like it, rather. "

"See here! You're not falling for him? You're not going to let him makeyou go straight?"

Maggie certainly had no intention of letting any such thing come topass; but she could not check her innocent-toned baiting. 

"How do I know what he'll make me do? He's clever and handsome, youknow. "

Barney gripped her shoulder fiercely. "Maggie--are you falling in lovewith him?"

"How do I know, when--"

"Maggie!" He gripped her more tightly, and his phrases tumbled outfiercely, rapidly. "You're not going to do anything of the sort! If hegoes straight--if you go straight--how can he ever help you? He can't!And it will be your finish--the finish of all the big things we'vetalked about. Listen: since Larry threw us down, I've taken hold ofthings and will soon be ready to spring something big. Just a few daysnow and you'll be out of that dirty street, and you'll be in swellclothes doing swell work--and it will mean the best restaurants, theaters, swell times!"

The car had turned into the narrow, cobbled street and had paused beforethe Duchess's. Suddenly Barney caught her into his arms. 

"And, Maggie, you're going to be mine! We'll have a nifty little place, all right! You know I'm dippy about you.... And, Maggie, I don't evenwant you to go back in there where Larry Brainard is. Let's drive backuptown and start in together now! To-night!"

It was not the fact that he had not suggested marriage which stirredMaggie: men and women in Barney's class lived together, and sometimesthey were married and sometimes they were not. It was something else, something of which she was not definitely conscious: but she felt nosuch momentary thrill, no momentary, dazing surrender, as she had feltthe night when Larry had similarly held her. 

"Stop that, Barney!" she gasped. "Let me go!" She struggled fiercely, and then tore herself free. 

"What's wrong with you?" panted Barney. "You're mine, ain't you?"

"You leave me alone! I'm going to get out!"

She had the door open, and was stepping out when he caught her sleeve. But she pulled so determinedly that to have held her would have meantnothing better than ripping the sleeve out of her coat. So he freed herand followed her across the sidewalk to the Duchess's door. 

"What's the idea?" he demanded, choking with fierce jealousy. "It's notLarry, after all? You're not going to let him make you go straight?"

She had recovered her poise, and she replied banteringly:

"As I said, how can I tell what he's going to make me do?"

She heard him draw a deep, quivering breath between clenched teeth; butshe could not see how his figure tensed and how his face twisted into aglower. 

"Get this, Maggie: Larry Brainard is never going to be able to make youdo anything. You get that?"

"Yes, I get it, Barney; good-night, " she said lightly. 

And Maggie slipped through the door and left Barney trembling in thelittle street. 

CHAPTER IX

Maggie, as she mounted to her room, was hardly conscious of the ringof menace in Barney's voice; but once she was in bed, his tone and hiswords came back to her and stirred a strange uneasiness in her mind. Barney was angry; Barney was cunning; Barney would stop at nothing togain his ends. What might be behind his threatening words?

The next morning as she was coming in with milk for her breakfastcoffee, she met Larry in the Duchess's room behind the pawnshop. Hesmilingly planted himself squarely in her way. 

"See here, Maggie--aren't you ever going to speak to a fellow?"

Something within her surged up impelling her to tell him of Barney'ssavage yet unformulated threat. The warning got as far as her tongue, and there halted, struggling. 

Her strange, fixed look startled Larry. "Why, what's the matter, Maggie?" he exclaimed. 

But her pride, her settled determination to unbend to him in no way andto have no dealings with him, were stronger than her impulse; and thestruggling warning remained unuttered. 

"Nothing's the matter, " she said, and brushed past him and hurried upthe stairway. 

At times during the day, while tutoring with Mr. Bronson, Larry thoughtof Maggie's strange look. And his mind was upon it late in the afternoonwhen he entered the little street. But as he neared his grandmother'shouse all such thought was banished by Detective Gavegan of the CentralOffice stepping from the pawnshop and blocking the door with his bigfigure. There was grim, triumphant purpose on the hard features ofGavegan, conceited by nature and trained to harsh dominance by long ruleas a petty autocrat. 

"Hello, Gavegan, " Larry greeted him pleasantly. "Gee, but you looktickled! Did the Duchess give you a bigger loan than you expected on theCarnegie medal you just hocked?"

"You'll soon be cuttin' out your line of comedy. " Gavegan slipped hisleft arm through Larry's right. "You're comin' along with me, and you'dbetter come quiet. "

Larry stiffened. "Come where?"

"Headquarters. "

"I haven't done a thing, Gavegan, and you know it! What do you want mefor?"

"Me and the Chief had a little talk about you, " leered Gavegan. "And nowthe Chief wants to have a little personal talk with you. He asked me toround you up and bring you in. "

"I've done nothing, and I'll not go!" Larry cried hotly. 

"Oh, yes, you will!" Gavegan withdrew his right hand from his coatpocket where it had been resting in readiness. In the hand, its thongabout his wrist, was a short leather-covered object filled with lead. "I've got my orders, and you'll come peaceably, or--But I'd just as soonyou'd resist, for I owe you something for the punch you slipped over onme the other night. "

Larry, taut with the desire to strike, gazed for a moment into theglowering face of the detective. Gavegan, gripping his right arm, withthat bone-crushing slug-shot itching for instant use, was apparentlymaster in the present circumstances. But before Larry's quick mind haddecided upon a course, the door of the pawnshop opened and closed, and avoice said sharply:

"Nothing doing on that rough stuff, Gavegan!" The speaker was now onLarry's left side, a heavy-faced man in a black derby. "Larry, better bea nice boy and come with us. "

"Oh, it's you, Casey!" said Larry. "If you say I've got to go, I'llgo--for you're one white copper, even if you do have Gavegan for apartner. Come on. What're we standing here for?"

The trio made their way out of the narrow street, and after some fifteenminutes of walking through the twisting byways of that part of the city, they passed through the granite doorway at Headquarters and entered theoffice of Deputy Commissioner Barlow, Chief of the Detective Bureau. Barlow was talking over the telephone in a growling staccato, and thethree men sat down. After a moment Barlow banged the receiver upon itshook, and turned upon them. He had a clenched, driving face, with small, commanding eyes. It was his boast that he got results, that it was hispolicy to make people do what you told 'em. He had no other code. 

"Well, Brainard, " he snapped, "here you are again. What you up to now?"

"Going to try the straight game, Chief, " returned Larry. 

"Don't try to put that old bunk over on me!"

"It's not bunk, Chief. It's the real stuff. "

"Cut it out, I say! Don't you suppose I had a clever bird like youpicked up the minute you landed in the city, and have had you coveredever since? And if you are going straight, what about the session youhad with Barney Palmer and Old Jimmie Carlisle the very night you blewin? And I'm on to this bluff of your going to that business institute. So come across, Brainard! I've got your every move covered!"

"I've already come across, Chief, " replied Larry, trying to keep histemper in the face of the other's bullying manner. "I told Barney andOld Jimmie that I was through with the old game, and through with themas pals at the old game--that's all there was to that meeting. I'm goingto that business institute for the same reason that every other persongoes there--to learn. That's all there is to the whole business, Chief:I'm going to go straight. "

Chief Barlow, hunched forward, his undershot jaw clenched on a cigarstub, regarded Larry steadily with his beady, autocratic eyes. Barlowwas trained to penetrate to the inside of men's minds, and he recognizedthat Larry was in earnest. 

"You mean you think you are going to go straight, " Barlow remarkedslowly and meaningly. 

"I know I am going to go straight, " Larry returned evenly, meetingsquarely the gaze of the Chief of Detectives. 

"Do you realize, young man, " Barlow continued in the same measured, significant tone, "that whether you go straight, and how you gostraight, depends pretty much on me?"

"Mind making that a little clearer, Chief?"

"I'll show you part of my hand--just remember that I'm holding back myhigh cards. I don't believe you're going to go straight, so we'll startwith the proposition that you're not going to run straight and work onfrom there. You're clever, Brainard--I hand you that; and all the classycrooks trust you. That's why I had picked you out for what I wanted longbefore you left stir. Brainard, you're wise enough to know that someof our best pinches come from tips handed us from the inside. Brainard"--the slow voice had now become incisive, mandatory--"you'renot going to go straight. You're going to string along with Barney andOld Jimmie and the rest of the bunch--we'll protect you--and you'regoing to slip us tips when something big is about to be pulled off. "

Larry, experienced with police methods though he was, could hardlybelieve this thing which was being proposed to him, Larry Brainard. Buthe controlled himself. 

"If I get you, Chief, you are suggesting that I become a police stool?"

"Exactly. We'll never tip your hand. And any little thing you pull offon your own we'll not bother you about. And, besides, we'll slip you alittle dough regular on the quiet. "

"And all you want me to do in exchange, " Larry asked quietly, "is tohand up my pals?"

"That's all. "

Larry found it required his all of strength to control himself; but hedid. 

"There are only three small objections to your proposition, Chief. "

"Yes?"

"The first is, I shall not be a stool. "

"What's that?"

"And the second is, I wouldn't squeal on a pal to you even if I were acrook. And the third is what I said in the beginning: I'm not going tobe a crook. "

Barlow's squat, powerful figure arose menacingly. Casey also stood up. 

"I tell you you ARE going to be a crook!" Barlow's big fist crashed downon his desk in a tremendous exclamation point. "And you're going to workfor me exactly as I tell you!"

"I have already given you my final word, " said Larry. 

"You--you--" Barlow almost choked at this quiet defiance. His faceturned red, his breath came in a fluttering snarl, his powerfulshoulders hunched up as if he were about to strike. But he held back hisphysical blows. 

"That's your ultimatum?"

"If you care to call it so--yes. "

"Then here's mine! I told you I was holding back my high cards. Eitheryou do as I say, and work with Gavegan and Casey, or you'll not be ableto hold a job in New York! My men will see to that. And here's anotherhigh card. You do as I've said, or I'll hang some charge on you, onethat'll stick, and back up the river you'll go for another stretch!There's an ultimatum for you to think about!"

It certainly was. Larry gazed into the harsh, glaring face, set infierce determination. He knew that Barlow, as part of his policy, lovedto break down the spirit of criminals; and he knew that nothing soroused Barlow as opposition from a man he considered in his power. Closebeside the Chief he saw the gloating, malignant face of Gavegan; Casey, who had been restless since the beginning of the scene, had moved to thewindow and was gazing down into Center Street. 

For a moment Larry did not reply. Barlow mistook Larry's silence forwavering, or the beginning of an inclination to yield. 

"You turn that over in your noodle, " Barlow drove on. "You're goingto go crooked, anyhow, so you might as well go crooked in the only waythat's safe for you. I'm going to have Gavegan and Casey watch you, andif in the next few days you don't begin to string along with Barney andOld Jimmie and that bunch, and if you don't get me word that your answerto my proposition is 'yes, ' hell's going to fall on you! Now get out ofhere!"

Larry got out. He was liquid lava of rage inside; but he had had enoughto do with police power to know that it would help him not at all topermit an eruption against a police official while he was in the veryheart of the police stronghold. 

He walked back toward his own street in a fury, beneath which wassubconsciously an element of uneasiness: an uneasiness which would havebeen instantly roused to caution had he known that Barney Palmer hadthis hour and more been following him in a taxicab, and that across thestreet from the car's window Barney's sharp face had watched him enterPolice Headquarters and had watched him emerge. 

Home reached, Larry briefly recounted his experience at Headquarters toHunt and the Duchess. The painter whistled; the Duchess blinked and saidnothing at all. 

"Maggie was more right than she knew when she first said you were facinga tough proposition!" exclaimed Hunt. "Believe me, young fellow, you'recertainly up against it!"

"Can you beat it for irony!" said Larry, pacing the floor. "A man wantsto go straight. His pals ask him to be a crook, and are sore becausehe won't be a crook. The police ask him to be a crook, and threaten himbecause he doesn't want to be a crook. Some situation!"

"Some situation!" repeated Hunt. "What're you going to do?"

"Do?" Larry halted, his face set with defiant determination. "I'm goingto keep on doing exactly what I've been doing! And they can all go tohell!"

CHAPTER X

For several days nothing seemed to be happening, though Larry had asense that unknown forces were gathering on distant isothermal linesand bad weather was bearing down upon him. During these days, tryingto ignore that formless trouble, he gave himself with a most rigiddetermination to his new routine--the routine which he counted on tohelp him into the way of great things. 

Every day he saw Maggie; sometimes he was in her company for an hour ormore. He had the natural hunger of a young man to talk to a young woman;and, moreover, it is a severe strain for a man to be living under thesame roof with the girl he loves and not to be on terms of friendshipwith her. But Maggie maintained her aloofness. She spoke only when shewas pressed into it, and her speech was usually no more than a "yes" ora "no, " or a flashing phrase of disdain. 

At times Larry had the feeling that, for all her repression, Maggiewould have been glad to be more free with him. And he knew enough ofhuman nature not to be too disheartened by her attitude. Had he beena nonentity to her, she would have ignored him. Her very insults wereproof that he was a positive personality with real significance in herlife. And so he counseled himself to have patience and await a thawingor an awaking. Besides, he kept repeating to himself, there wouldbe small chance of effecting a conversion in this militant youngorthodoxist of cynicism until he had proved the soundness of contraryviews by his own established success. 

And thus the days drifted by. But on the fifth day after his interviewwith Barlow things began to happen. First of all, he noticed in amorning paper that Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt, members of his oldoutfit and suggested by Old Jimmie as participants in his proposed newenterprise, had just been arrested by Gavegan and Casey on the charge ofalleged connection with the sale of fraudulent mining stock. 

Second, on his return at the end of the afternoon, he saw standingbefore the house a taxicab with a trunk beside the chauffeur. In themusty museum of a room behind the pawnshop he found Hunt and the Duchessand Old Jimmie and Barney; and also Maggie, coming down the stairway, hat and coat on and carrying a suitcase. A sharp pain throbbed throughhim as he recognized the significance of Maggie's hat and coat andbaggage. 

"Maggie--you're going away?" he exclaimed. 

"Yes. "

She had paused at the foot of the stairway, and at sight of him had gonea little pale and wide-eyed. But in an instant she had recovered heraccustomed flair; there came a proud lift to her head, a flash of scorninto her dark eyes. 

"At last I'm leaving this street for good, " she said. "I told you thatsome day I was going out into the world and do big things. The time'scome--I'm graduated--I'm going to begin real work. And I'm going tosucceed--you see!"

"Maggie!" he breathed. Then impulsively he started toward herauthoritatively. "Maggie, I'm not going to let you do anything of thesort!"

But swiftly Barney had stepped in between them, Old Jimmie just behindhim. 

"Keep out of this!" Barney snapped at Larry, a reddish blaze in hiseyes. "Maggie's going away and you can't stop her. D'you think herfather is going to let her stay down here any longer, where you canspout your preaching at her!--and you all the time a stool and asquealer!"

"What's that?" cried Larry. 

"I called you a stool!" repeated the malignantly exultant Barney, alertfor any move on the part of the suddenly tensed Larry. "And you area stool! Didn't I see you myself go into Headquarters with Casey andGavegan where you sold yourself to Chief Barlow!"

"Why, you damned--"

Even before he spoke Larry launched a furious swing straight from thehip at Barney's twisted face. But Barney had been expecting exactlythat, and was even the quicker. He caught Larry's wrist before it wasfairly started, and thrust a dull-hued automatic into Larry's stomach. 

"Behave; damn you, " gritted Barney, "or I'll blow your damned guts out!No--go ahead and try to hit me. I'd like nothing better than to killyou, you rat, and have a good plea of self-defense!"

Larry let his hands unclench and fall to his sides. "You've got the dropon me, Barney--but you're a liar. "

"You bet I got the drop on you! And not only with my gun. I've got iton you about being a stool. Everybody knows you are a stool. And what'smore, they know you are a squealer!"

"A squealer!" Larry stiffened again. 

"A stool and a squealer!" Barney fairly hurled at Larry these two mostdespised epithets of his world. "You've done your job swell as a stool, and squealed on Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt and turned them up forthe police!"

"You believe I had anything to do with their arrest?" exclaimed Larry. 

Barney laughed in his derision. 

"Of course we believe it, " put in Old Jimmie, his seamed, cunning facenow ruthlessly hard. "And what's more, we know it!"

"And what's still more, " Barney taunted, "Maggie believes it, too!"

Larry turned to Maggie. Her face was now drawn, with staring eyes. 

"Maggie--do you believe it?" he demanded. 

For a moment she neither spoke nor moved. Then slowly she nodded. 

"But, Maggie, " he protested, "I didn't do it! Barlow did ask me to bea stool, but I turned him down! Aside from that, I know no more of thisthan you do!"

"Of course you'd deny it--we were waiting for that, " sneered Barney. "Jimmie, we've wasted enough time here. Take Maggie's bag and let's bemoving on. "

Old Jimmie picked up Maggie's suitcase, and slipping a hand through herarm led her across the room. She did not even say good-bye to Hunt orthe Duchess, or even glance at them; but went out silently, her drawn, staring look on Larry alone. 

Barney backed after them, his automatic still held in readiness. "I'mletting you down damned easy, Brainard, " he said, hate glittering in hiseyes. "But there's some who won't be so nice!"

With that he closed the door. Until that moment both Hunt and theDuchess had said nothing. Now the Duchess spoke up:

"I'm glad they've taken Maggie away, Larry. I've seen the way you'vecome to feel about her, and she's not the right sort for you. "

But Larry was still too dazed by the way in which Maggie had walked outof his life to make any response. 

"But there's a lot in what Barney said about there being some whowouldn't be easy on you, " continued the Duchess. "That word had beenbrought me before Barney showed up. So I had this ready for you. "

From a slit pocket in her baggy skirt the Duchess drew out a pistol andhanded it to Larry. 

"What's this for?" Larry asked. 

"I was told that word had gone out to the Ginger Buck Gang to get you, "answered the Duchess. "Barney has some secret connection with the GingerBucks. His saying that you were a stool and a squealer is not theonly thing he's got against you; he's jealous of you on account ofeverything--especially Maggie. So you'll need that gun. "

"What's this I've fallen into the middle of?" exclaimed Hunt. "AKentucky feud?"

"It's very easy to understand when you know the code, " Larry explainedgrimly. "Down here when an outfit thinks one of its members has squealedon them, it's their duty to be always on the watch for their chance tofinish him off. I'm to be finished off--that's all. "

"Say, young fellow, the life of a straight crook doesn't seem to begetting much simpler! Why, man, you hardly dare to stir from the house!What are you going to do?"

"Going to go around my business, always with the pleasant anticipationof a bullet in my back when some fellow thinks it safe for him toshoot. "

The three of them discussed this latest development over their dinner, which they had together up in Hunt's studio. But despite all their talkof his danger, a very real and near danger, Larry's mind was moreupon Maggie who had thus suddenly been wrenched out of his life. Heremembered her excited, boastful talk of their first evening. Her periodof schooling was indeed now over; she was now committed to her rosilyimagined adventure, in which she saw herself as a splendid lady. Andwith Barney Palmer as her guiding influence!... 

Dinner had been finished and Hunt was trying to give Larry such cheeras "Buck up, young fellow--you know the worst--there's nothing else thatcan happen, " when the lie direct was given to his phrases by heavy stepsrunning up the stairway and the opening and closing of the door. Therestood Officer Casey, heaving for breath. 

Instinctively Larry drew his pistol. "Casey! What're you here for?"

"Get rid of that gat--don't be found with a gun on, " ordered Casey. "Andbeat it. You've got less than five minutes to make your get-away. "

"My get-away! What's up?"

"You haven't come across as the Chief ordered you to, and he's out togive you just what he said he would, " Casey said rapidly, his speechbroken by panting. "There's been a stick-up, with assault that may bechanged to attempted manslaughter, and the Chief has three men who swearyou're the guilty party. It's a sure-fire case against you, Larry--andit'll mean five to ten years if you're caught. Gavegan and I got theorder to arrest you. I've beat Gavegan to it so's to tip you off, buthe's only a few minutes behind. Hurry, Larry! Only--only--"

Casey paused, gasping for his wind. 

"Only what, Casey?"

"Only alibi me, Larry, by slipping over a haymaker on me like you did onGavegan. So's I can say I tried to get you, but you were too quick andknocked me cold. Quick! Only not too hard--I know how to play possum. "

Larry handed the pistol to Hunt. "Casey, you're a real scout! Thanks!"He grasped Casey's hand, then swiftly relaxed his grip. "Ready?"

"Fire, " said Casey. 

Larry held his open left hand close to Casey's jaw, and drove his rightfist into his palm with a thudding smack. Casey went sprawling to thefloor, and lay there loosely, with mouth agape, in perfect simulation ofa man who has been knocked out. 

Larry turned quickly. "You two will testify that I beat Casey up andthen made my escape?"

"Sure, I'll testify to anything for the sake of a good old goat likeCasey!" cried Hunt. "But hurry, boy--beat it!"

The Duchess held out Larry's hat to him, and thrust into his coatpocket a roll of bills which had come from her capacious skirt. "Hurry, Larry--and be careful--for you're all I've got. "

Impulsively Larry stooped and kissed the thin, shriveled lips of hisgrandmother--the first kiss he had ever given her. Then he turned andran down the stairway, Hunt just behind him. He turned out the light inthe back room, and called to Old Isaac to darken the pawnshop proper. Hewas going forth with two forces in arms against him, the police and hispals, and he had no desire to be a shining mark for either or both bystepping through a lighted doorway. 

"Larry, my son, you're all right!" said Hunt, gripping his hand inthe darkness. "Listen, boy: if ever you're trapped and can get to atelephone, call Plaza nine-double-o-one and say 'Benvenuto Cellini. '"

"All right. "

"Remember, you're to say 'Benvenuto Cellini, ' and the telephone is Plazanine-double-o-one. Luck to you!" Again they gripped hands. Then Larryslipped through the darkened doorway into whatever might lie beyond. 

CHAPTER XI

A misting rain was being swirled about by a temperish wind as Larrycame out into the little street. Down toward the river the one gaslightglowed faintly like an expiring nebula; all the little shops wereclosed; home lights gleamed behind the curtained windows which the stormhad closed; so that the street was now a little canyon of uncertainshadows. 

Larry had not needed to think to know that Gavegan would be making hisvindictive approach from the westerly regions where lay Headquarters. So, keeping in the deeper shadows close to the building, Larry took theeastern course of the street, remembering in a flash a skiff he had seentethered to a scow moored to the pier which stretched like a pointerfinger from the little Square. As yet he had no plan beyond thenecessity of the present moment, which was flight. Could he but makethat skiff unseen and cast off, he would have time, in the briefsanctuary which the black river would afford him, to formulate thewisest procedure his predicament permitted him. 

As he came near that smothered glow-worm of a street-lamp it assumed forhim the betraying glare of a huge spot-light. But it had to be passed togain the skiff; and with collar turned up and hat-brim pulled down andhead hunched low, he entered the dim sphere of betrayal, walked underits penny's-worth of flame, and glided toward the shadows beyond, hiseyes straining with the preternatural keenness of the hunted at everystoop and doorway before him. 

He was just passing out of the sphere of mist-light--the lamp being nowat his back helped him--when he saw three vague figures lurking half adozen paces ahead of him. His brain registered these vague figures withthe instantaneity of a snapshot camera at full noon. They were mereshadows; but the farther of the three seemed to be Barney Palmer--hewas not sure; but of the identity of the other two there was no doubt:"Little Mick" and "Lefty Ed, " both members high in the councils ofthe Ginger Bucks, and either of whose services as a killer could bepurchased for a hundred dollars or a paper of cocaine, depending uponwhich at the moment there was felt the greater need. 

In the very instant that he saw, Larry doubled about and ran at fullspeed back up the street. Two shots rang out; Larry could nottell whether they were fired by Little Mick or Lefty Ed or BarneyPalmer--that is, if the third man really were Barney. Again two shotswere fired, then came the sound of pursuing feet. Luckily not one of thebullets had touched Larry; for the New York professional gunman isthe premier bad shot of all the world, and cannot count upon hismarksmanship, unless he can get his weapon solidly anchored against hisman, or can sneak around to the rear and pot his unsuspecting victim inthe back. 

As Larry neared the pawnshop with the intention of making his escapethrough the western stretch of the street, he saw that Old Isaac hasswitched on the lights; and he also saw Officer Gavegan bearing down inhis direction. They sighted each other in the same instant, and Gaveganlet out a roar and started for him. 

Caught between two opposing forces, Larry again had no time to plan. Rather, there was nothing he could plan, for only one way was opento him. He dashed into the pawnshop and into the back room. At theDuchess's desk Hunt was scribbling at furious speed. 

"I'm caught, Hunt--Gavegan's coming, " he gasped, and ran up the stairs, Hunt following and stuffing his scribblings into a pocket. As Larrypassed the open studio door he saw Casey sitting up. "Down on the floorwith you, Casey! Hunt, work over him to bring him to--and stall Gaveganfor a while if you can. "

With that Larry sprang to a ladder at the end of the little hall, ranup it, unhooked and pushed up the trap, scrambled through upon the roof, and pushed the trap back into place. 

Fortune, or rather the well-wishing wits of friends below, gave Larry afew precious moments more than he had counted on. He was barely outon the rain-greased tin roof, with the trap down, when Gavegan camethumping up the stairs and into the studio. At sight of the recumbentCasey, head limply on Hunt's knees, and his loose face being laved by awet towel in Hunt's hands, Gavegan let out another roar:

"Hell's bells! What the hell's this mean?"

"I tried to nab Brainard, " Casey mumbled feebly, "and he knocked me outcold--the same as he did you, Gavegan. "

"Hell!" snorted Gavegan, his wrath increased by this reference. "Youthere"--to Hunt and the Duchess--"where'd Brainard go? He's in thishouse some place!"

"I don't know, " said Hunt. 

"Yes, you do! Leave that boob side-kick of mine sleep it off, and helpme find Brainard or you'll feel my boot!"

The big painter stood up facing the big detective and his left handgripped the latter's wrist and his right closed upon the detective'sthroat just as it had closed upon the lean throat of Old Jimmie on theday of Larry's return--only now there was nothing playful in the nooseof that big hand. He shook Gavegan as he might have shaken a pillow, with a thumb thrusting painfully in beneath Gavegan's ear. 

"I've done nothing, and that bully stuff doesn't go with me!" hefairly spat into Gavegan's face. "You talk to me like a gentleman andapologize, or I'll throw you out of the window and let your head bounceoff one of its brother cobblestones below!"

Gavegan choked out an apology, whereat Hunt flung him from him. Thedetective, glowering at the other, pulled aside curtains, peered intocorners; then made furious and fruitless search of the rooms below, bringing up at last at Maggie's door, which the Duchess had slippedahead of him and locked. When he demanded the key, the Duchess told himof Maggie's departure and her carrying the key with her. It was asolid door, with strong lock and hinges; and two minutes of Gavegan'sbattering shoulders were required to make it yield entrance. Not till hefound the room empty did Gavegan think of the trap and the roof. 

Larry made good use of these few extra minutes granted him. Whateverhe was to do he realized he must do it quickly. Not for long would theforces arrayed against him be small in number; Gavegan, though beaten atthe outset, would send out an alarm that would arouse the police of thecity--and in their own degree the gangsters would do the same. Duringhis weeks of freedom Larry had unconsciously studied the layout of theneighborhood, his old instincts at work. The subconscious knowledge thusgained was of instant value. He hurried along the slippery roofs, takingcare not to trip over the dividing walls, and came to the rear edge ofa roof where he had marked a fire-escape with an unusually broad upperlanding. He could discern the faint outlines of this; and hanging to thegutter he dropped to the fire-escape, and a moment later he was downin the back yard; and yet two moments later he was over two fences andgoing through a rabbit's burrow of a passageway that went beneath ahouse into the street behind his own. 

He did not pause to reconnoiter. Time was of the essence of his safety, risks had to be taken. He plunged out of his hole--around the firstcorner--around the next--and thus wove in and out, working westward, till at last, on turning a corner into a lighted street, he saw possiblerelief in two stray taxicabs before a little East Side restaurant, oneof which was just leaving. 

"Taxi!" he called breathlessly. 

The chauffeur of the moving car swung back beside the curb and openedthe door. But even as he started to enter he saw Little Mick and LeftyEd turn into the street behind him. However, the brightness of thisstreet ill-accorded with the anonymity with which their art is mostsafely and profitably practiced, so Larry got in without a bulletflicking at him. 

"Forty-Second Street and Broadway, " he called to the chauffeur as heclosed the door. 

The car started off. Looking back through the little window he saw LeftyEd enter the other taxicab, and saw Little Mick standing on the curb. He understood. Little Mick was to send out the alarm, while Lefty was tofollow the trail. 

Let Lefty follow. At least Larry now had a few minutes to consider someplan which should look beyond the safety of the immediate moment. Hewas well-dressed, albeit somewhat wet and soiled; he had money in hispockets. What should he do?

Yes, what should he do? The more he considered it the more ineluctabledid his situation become. By now Gavegan had sent out his alarm; withina few moments every policeman on duty would have instructions to watchfor him. He might escape for the time, at least, these allies of hisone-time pals by going to a hotel and taking a room there; but to walkinto a hotel would be to walk into arrest. On the other hand, he mightevade the police if he sought refuge in one of his old haunts, orperhaps with old Bronson; but then his angered pals knew of thesehaunts, and to enter one of them would be to offer himself freely totheir vengeance. 

There were other cities--but then how was he to get to them? He sawManhattan for what it was to a man who was a fugitive from justice andinjustice: an island, a trap, with only a few outlets and inlets forits millions: two railway stations--a few ferries--a few bridges--a fewtunnels: and at every one of them policemen watching for him. He couldnot leave New York. And yet how in God's name was he to stay here?

He thought of Maggie. So she wanted the life of dazzling, excitement, ofbrilliant adventure, did she? He wondered how she would like a little ofthe real thing--such as this?

As he neared Forty-Second Street he still was without definite planwhich would guarantee him safety, and there was Lefty hanging ondoggedly. An idea came which would at least extend his respite and givehim more time for thought. He opened the door of his cab and thrust aten-dollar note into the instinctively ready hand of his driver. 

"Keep the change--and give me a swing once around Central Park, slowingdown on those hilly turns on the west side. "

"I gotcha. "

The car entered the park at the Plaza and sped up the shining, almostempty drive. Larry kept watch, now on the trailing Lefty, now on thebest chance for execution of his idea--all the way up the east side andaround the turn at the north end. As the car, now south-bound, swung upthe hill near One Hundred and Fifth Street, at whose crest there isa sharp curve with thick-growing, overhanging trees, Larry opened theright door and said:

"Show me a little speed, driver, as soon as you pass this curve!"

"I gotcha, " replied the chauffeur. 

The slowing car hugged the inside of the sharp turn, Larry holding thedoor open and waiting his moment. The instant the taxi made the curveLefty's car was cut from view; and that instant Larry sprang from therunning-board, slamming the door behind him, landed on soft earth andscuttled in among the trees. Crouching in the shadows he saw his carspeed away as per his orders, and the moment after he saw Lefty's car, evidently taken by surprise by this obvious attempt at escape, leapforward in hot pursuit. 

Larry slipped farther in among the trees and sat down, his back againsta tree. This was better. For the time he was safe. 

He drew a long breath. Then for a moment what he had just been throughthis last hour came back to him in an almost amusing light: as somethinggrotesquely impossible--much like those helter-skelter, utterly unrealchases which, with slight variations of personalities and costumes, werethe chief plots for the motion-picture drama in its crude childhood. Butthough there seemed a likeness, there was a tremendous difference. Forthis was real! Every one was in earnest!

Again he thought of Maggie. What would she think, what would be herattitude, if she knew the truth about him?--the truth about those shehad gone with and the life she had gone into? Would she be inclinedtoward HIM, would she help him?... 

Again he thought of what he should do. Now that he commanded a composurewhich had not been his during the stress of his flight, he examinedevery aspect with greater care. But the conclusions of composure werethe same as those of excitement. He could not gain entrance to oneof the great hotels and remain in his room, unidentified among itsthousands of strangers; he could not find asylum in one of his oldhaunts; he dared not try to leave Manhattan. He was a prisoner, whoseonly privilege was a larger but most uncertain liberty. 

And that liberty was becoming penetratingly uncomfortable. An hour hadpassed, the ground on which he sat was wet and cold, and the misty airwas assuming a distressing kinship with departed winter and was makingshivering assaults upon his bones. At the best, he realized, he couldnot hope to remain secure in this cultivated wilderness beyond daylight. With the coming of morning he would certainly be the prey of either hispals or the police. And if they did not beat him from his hiding, plainmortal hunger would drive him out into the open streets. If he was todo anything at all, he must do it while he still had the moderateprotection of the night. 

And then for the first time there came to him remembrance of Hunt'srapid injunction, given him in the hurly-burly of escape when nothoughts could impress the upper surface of his mind save those of theimmediate moment. "If you're trapped, call Plaza nine-double-o-one andsay 'Benvenuto Cellini. '"

Larry had no idea what that swift instruction might be about. And thechance seemed a slender, fantastical one, even if he could safely get toa public telephone. But it seemed his only chance. 

He arose, and, keeping as much as he could to the wilder regions of thepark, and making the utmost use of shadows when he had to cross apath or a drive, he stole southward. He remembered a drug-store atEighty-Fourth Street and Columbus Avenue, peculiarly suited to hispurpose, for it had a side entrance on Eighty-Fourth Street and was in aneighborhood where policemen were infrequent. 

Fortune favored him. At length he reached Eighty-Fourth Street andpeered over the wall. Central Park West was practically empty ofautomobiles, for the theaters had not yet discharged their crowds and nopoliceman was in sight. He vaulted the wall; a minute later he was ina booth in the drug-store, had dropped his nickel in the slot, and wasasking for Plaza nine-double-o-one. 

"Hello, sir!" responded the very correct voice of a man. 

"Benvenuto Cellini, " said Larry. 

"Hold the wire, sir, " said the voice. 

Larry held the wire, wondering. After a moment the same correct voiceasked where Larry was speaking from. Larry gave the exact information. 

"Stay right in the booth, and keep on talking; say anything you like;the wire here will be kept open, " continued the voice. "We'll not keepyou waiting long, sir. "

The voice ceased. Larry began to chat about topics of the day, aboutinvented friends and engagements, well knowing that his stream of talkwas not being heard unless Central was "listening in"; and knowing alsothat, to any one looking into the glass door of his booth, he was givinga most unsuspicious appearance of a busy man. And while he talked, hiswonder grew. What was about to happen? What was this Benvenuto Cellinibusiness all about?

He had been talking for fifteen minutes or more when the glass door ofthe booth was opened from without and a man's voice remarked:

"When you are through, sir, we will be going. "

The voice was the same he had heard over the wire. Larry hung up andfollowed the man out the side door, noting only that he had a lean, respectful face. At the curb stood a limousine, the door of which wasopened by the man for Larry. Larry stepped in. 

"Are you followed, sir?" inquired the man. 

"I don't know. "

"We'd better make certain. If you are, we'll lose them, sir. We'll stopsomewhere and change our license plates again. "

Instead of getting into the unlighted body with him, as Larry hadexpected, the man closed the door, mounted to the seat beside thechauffeur, and the car shot west and turned up Riverside Drive. 

One may break the speed laws in New York if one has the speed, and ifone has the ability to get away with it. This car had both. Never beforehad Larry driven so rapidly within New York City limits; he knewthis, that any trailing taxicab would be lost behind. AtTwo-Hundred-and-Forty-Fifth Street the car swung into Van Cortland Park, and switched off all lights. Two minutes later they halted in a darkstretch of one of the by-roads of the Park. 

"We'll be stopping only a minute, sir, to put on our right numberplates, " the man opened the door to explain. 

Within the minute they were away again, now proceeding moreleisurely, in the easy manner of a private car going about its privatebusiness--though the interior of the car was discreetly dark andLarry huddled discreetly into a corner. Thus they drove over the GrandBoulevards and recrossed the Harlem River and presently drew up in frontof a great apartment house in Park Avenue. 

The man opened the door. "Walk right in, sir, as though you belong here. The doorman and the elevatorman are prepared. "

They might be prepared, but Larry certainly was not; and he shot up theelevator to the top floor with mounting bewilderment. The man unlockedthe door of an apartment, ushered Larry in, took his wet hat, thenushered the dazed Larry through the corner of a dim-lit drawing-room andthrough another door. 

"You are to wait here, sir, " said the man, and quietly withdrew. 

Larry looked about him. He took in but a few details, but he knew enoughabout the better fittings of life to realize that he was in the presenceof both money and the best of taste. He noted the log fire in the broadfireplace, comfortable chairs, the imported rugs on the gleaming floor, the shelves of books which climbed to the ceiling, a quaint writing-deskin one corner which seemed to belong to another country and anothercentury, but which was perfectly at home in this room. 

On the desk he saw standing a leather-framed photograph which seemedfamiliar. He crossed and picked it up. Indeed it was familiar! It wasa photograph of Hunt: of Hunt, not in the shabby, shapeless garmentshe wore down at the Duchess's, but Hunt accoutered as might be a manaccustomed to such a room as this--though in this picture there was thesame strong chin, the same belligerent good-natured eyes. 

Now how and where did that impecunious, rough-neck painter fit into--

But the dazed question Larry was asking was interrupted by a voice fromthe door--the thick voice of a man:

"Who the hell 'r' you?"

Larry whirled about. In the doorway stood a tall, bellicose younggentleman of perhaps twenty-four or five, in evening dress, flushed offace, holding unsteadily to the door-jamb. 

"I beg your pardon, " said Larry. 

"'N' what the hell you doin' here?" continued the belligerent younggentleman. 

"I'd be obliged to you if you could tell me, " said Larry. 

"Tryin' to stall, 'r' you, " declared the young gentleman with a scowlingprofundity. "No go. Got to come out your corner 'n' fight. 'N' I'm goin'lick you. "

The young man crossed unsteadily to Larry and took a fighting pose. 

"Put 'em up!" he ordered. 

This was certainly a night of strange adventure, thought Larry. His wildescape--his coming to this unknown place--and now this befuddled youngfellow intent upon battle with him. 

"Let's fight to-morrow, " Larry suggested soothingly. 

"Put 'em up!" ordered the other. "If you don't know what you're doin'here, I'll show you what you're doin' here!"

But he was not to show Larry, for while he was uttering his last words, trying to steady himself in a crouch for the delivery of a blow, a voicesounded sharply from the doorway--a woman's voice:

"Dick!"

The young man slowly turned. But Larry had seen her first. He had nochance to take her in, that first moment, beyond noting that she wasslender and young and exquisitely gowned, for she swept straight acrossto them. 

"Dick, you're drunk again!" she exclaimed. 

"Wrong, sis, " he corrected in an injured tone. "It's same drunk. "

"Dick, you go to bed!"

"Now, sis--"

"You go to bed!"

The young man wavered before her commanding gaze. "Jus's you say--jus'syou say, " he mumbled, and went unsteadily toward the door. 

The young woman watched him out, and then turned her troubled face backto Larry. "I'm sorry Dick behaved to you as he did. "

And then before Larry could make answer, her clouded look was gone. "Soyou're here at last, Mr. Brainard. " She held her hand out, smilinga smile that by some magic seemed to envelop him within an immediatefriendship. 

"I'm Miss Sherwood. " He noted that the slender, tapering hand had almosta man's strength of grip. "You needn't tell me anything about yourself, "she added, "for I already know a lot--all I need to know: about you--andabout Maggie Carlisle. You see an hour ago a messenger brought me a longletter he'd written about you. " And she nodded to the photograph Larrywas still holding. 

"You--you know him?" Larry stammered. 

She answered with a whimsical smile: "Yes. Isn't he a grand, foolishold dear? He's such a roistering, bragging personage that I've named himBenvenuto Cellini--though he's neither liar nor thief. He must have toldyou what I called him. "

So that explained this password of "Benvenuto Cellini"! "No, he didn'texplain anything. There was no time. "

"I don't know where he is, " she continued; "please don't tell me. Idon't want to know until he wants me to know. "

Larry had been making a swift appraisal of her. She was perhaps thirty, fair, with golden-brown hair held in place by a large comb of wroughtgold, with violet-blue eyes, wearing a low-cut gown of violet chiffonvelvet and dull gold shoes. Larry's instinct told him that here was apatrician, a thoroughbred: with poise, with a knowledge of the world, with whimsical humor, with a kindly understanding of people, with steelin her, and with a smiling readiness for almost any situation. 

"I think no one will find you--at least for the present, " her pleasantlymodulated voice continued. "There are so many things I want to talkover with you. Perhaps I can help about Maggie. I hope you don't mindmy talking about her. " Larry could not imagine any one taking offenseat anything this brilliant apparition might possibly say. "But we'll putoff our talk until to-morrow. It's late, and you're wet and cold, andbesides, my aunt is having one of her bad spells and thinks she needsme. Judkins will see to you. Good-night. "

"Good-night, " said Larry. 

She moved gracefully out--almost floated, Larry would have said. Thenext moment the man was with him who had been his escort here, and ledLarry into a spacious bedroom with bath attached. Ten minutes laterJudkins made his exit, carrying Larry's outer clothes; and anotherten minutes later, after a hot bath, and garbed in silk pajamas whichJudkins had produced, Larry was in the softest and freshest bed that hadever held him. 

But sleep did not come to Larry for a long time. He lay wondering aboutthis golden-haired, poiseful Miss Sherwood. She was undoubtedly thewoman in the back of Hunt's life. And he wondered about Hunt--who hereally was--what had really driven him into this strange exile. And hewondered about Maggie--what she might be doing--what from this strangenew vantage-point he might do for her and with her. And he wondered howhis own complex situation was going to work itself out. 

And still wondering, Larry at length fell asleep. 

CHAPTER XII

When Larry awoke the next morning, he blinked for several bewilderedmoments about his bedroom, so unlike his cell at Sing Sing and so unlikeHunt's helter-skelter studio down at the Duchess's which he had shared, before he realized that this big, airy chamber and this miracle of a bedon which he lay were realities and not a mere continuation of a dream offantastic and body-flattering wealth. 

Then his mind turned back a page in the book of his life and he layconsidering the events of the previous evening: the scene with Barneyand Old Jimmie and Maggie, their all denouncing him as a policestool-pigeon and a squealer, and Maggie's defiant departure to begin herlong-dreamed-of career as a leading-woman and perhaps star in what shesaw as great and thrilling adventures; his own enforced and frenziedflight; his strange method of reaching this splendid apartment; hismeeting with the handsome, drink-befuddled young man in evening clothes;his meeting with the exquisitely gowned patrician Miss Sherwood, whohad received him with the poise and frank friendliness of a democraticqueen, and had immediately ordered him off to bed. 

Strange, all of these things! But they were all realities. And in thisnew set of circumstances which had come into being in a night, what washe to do?

He recalled that Miss Sherwood had said that she and he would have theirtalk that morning. He pulled his watch from under his pillow. It waspast nine o'clock. He looked about him for clothes, but saw only abathrobe. Then he remembered Judkins carrying off his rain-soakedgarments, with "Ring for me when you wake up, sir. "

Larry found an electric bell button dangling over the top of his bed bya silken cord. He pushed the button and waited. Within two minutes thedoor opened, and Judkins entered, laden with fresh garments. 

"Good-morning, sir, " said Judkins. "Your own clothes, and some shirtsand other things I've borrowed from Mr. Dick. How will you have yourbath, sir--hot or cold?"

"Cold, " said the bewildered Larry. 

Judkins disappeared into the great white-tiled bathroom, there was therush of splashing water for a few moments, then silence, and Judkinsreappeared. 

"Your bath is ready, sir. I've laid out some of Mr. Dick's razors. Howsoon shall I bring you in your breakfast?"

"In about twenty minutes, " said Larry. 

Exactly twenty minutes later Judkins carried in a tray, and set it ona table beside a window looking down into Park Avenue. "Miss Sherwoodasked me to tell you she would see you in the library at ten o'clock, sir--where she saw you last night, " said Judkins, and noiselessly wasgone. 

Freshly shaven, tingling from his bath, with a sense of being garbedflawlessly, though in garments partly alien, Larry addressed himselfto the breakfast of grapefruit, omelette, toast and coffee, served onSevres china with covers of old silver. In his more prosperous erasLarry had enjoyed the best private service that the best hotels in NewYork had to sell; but their best had been coarse and slovenly comparedto this. He would eat for a minute or two--then get up and look at hiscarefully dressed self in the full-length mirror--then gaze from hishigh, exclusive window down into Park Avenue with its stream of carscomfortably carrying their occupants toward ten o'clock jobs in Wallor Broad Streets--and then he would return to his breakfast. This wasamazing--bewildering!

He was toward the end of his omelette when a knock sounded at his door. Thinking Judkins had returned, he called, "Come in"; but instead ofJudkins the opening door admitted the belligerent young man in rumpledevening clothes of the previous night. Now he wore a silk dressing-gownof a flamboyant peacock blue, his feet showed bare in toe slippers, hiswavy, yellowish hair had the tousled effect of a very recent separationfrom a pillow. A cigarette depended from the corner of his mouth. 

Larry started to rise. But the young man arrested the motion with agesture of mock imperativeness. 

"Keep your seat, fair sir; I would fain have speech with thee. " Hecrossed and sat on a corner of Larry's table, one slippered footdangling, and looked Larry over with an appraising eye. "Permit me toremark, sir, " he continued in his grand manner, "that you look as thoughyou might be some one. "

"Is that what you wanted to tell me, Mr. Sherwood?" queried Larry. 

The other's grand manner vanished and he grinned. "Forget the 'Mr. Sherwood, ' or you'll make me feel not at home in my own house, " hebegged with humorous mournfulness. "Call me Dick. Everybody else does. That's settled. Now to the reason for this visitation at such an ungodlyhour. Sis has just been in picking on me. Says I was rude to you lastnight. I suppose I was. I'd had several from my private stock early inthe evening; and several more around in jovial Manhattan joints whereprohibition hasn't checked the flow of happiness if you know thecountersign. The cumulative effect you saw, and were the victim of. Iapologize, sir. "

"That's all right, Mr. --"

"Dick is what I said, " interrupted the other. 

"Dick, then. It's all right. I understand. "

"Thanks. I'll call you Old Captain Nemo for short. Sis didn't tellme your name or anything about you, and she said I wasn't to ask youquestions. But whatever Isabel does is usually one hundred percentright. She said I'd probably be seeing a lot of you, so I'll introducemyself. You'd learn all about me from some one else, anyhow, so youmight as well learn about me from me and get an impartial and unbiasedstatement. Clever of me, ain't it, to beat 'em to it?"

Larry found himself smiling back into the ingratiating, irresponsible, boyish face. "I suppose so. "

"I'll shoot you the whole works at once. Name, Richard LivingstonSherwood. Years, twenty-four, but alleged not yet to have reached theage of discretion. One of our young flying heroes who helped save Franceand make the world safe for something or other by flapping his wingsover the endless alkali of Texas. Occupation, gentleman farmer. "

"You a farmer!" exclaimed Larry. 

"A gentleman farmer, " corrected Dick. "The difference between a farmerand a gentleman farmer, Captain Nemo, is that a gentleman farmer makesno profit on his crops. Now my friends say I'm losing an awful lot ofmoney and am sowing an awfully big crop. And according to them, insteadof practicing sensible crop rotation, I'm a foolish one-crop farmer--andmy one crop is wild oats. "

"I see, " said Larry. 

"Of course I do do a little something else on the side. Avocation. I'min the brokerage business. But my chief business is looking after theSherwood interests. You see, my mother--father died ten years before shedid--my mother, being dotty about the innate superiority of the male, left me in control of practically everything, and I do as well by it asthe more important occupation of farming will permit. Which completesthe racy history of myself. "

"I'm sorry I can't reciprocate. "

"That's all right, Captain Nemo. There's plenty of time--and it doesn'tmake any difference, anyhow. " For all his light manner and carelesschatter, Larry had a sense that Dick had been sizing him up all thiswhile; that, in fact, to do this was the real purpose of the presentcall. Dick slipped to his feet. "If you're just now a bit shy on duds, as I understand you are, why, we're about the same size. Tell Judkinswhat you want, and make him give you plenty. What time you got?"

"Just ten o'clock. "

"By heck--time a farmer was pulling on his overalls and going forth tohis dew-gemmed toil!"

"And time for me to be seeing your sister, " said Larry, rising. 

"Come on. I'm a good seneschal, or major domo, or what you like--andI'll usher you into her highness's presence. "

A moment later Larry was pushed through the library door and Dickannounced in solemn tone:

"Senorita--Mademoiselle--our serene, revered, and most high sisterIsabel, permit us to present our newest and most charming friend, Captain Nemo. "

"Dick, " exclaimed Miss Sherwood, "get out of here and get yourself intosome clothes!"

"Listen to that!" complained Dick. "She still talks to me as though Iwere her small brother. Next thing she'll be ordering me to wash behindmy ears!"

"Get out, and shut the door after you!"

The reply was Dick's stately exit and the sharp closing of the door. 

"Has Dick been talking to you about himself?" asked Miss Sherwood. 

"Yes. "

"What did he say?"

Larry gave the substance of the autobiography which Dick hadvolunteered. 

"Part of that is more than the truth, part less than the truth, " MissSherwood remarked. "But this morning we were to have a real talk aboutyour affairs, and let's get to the subject. "

She had motioned him to a chair beside the quaint old desk, and theywere now sitting face to face. Isabel Sherwood looked as much thefinished patrician as on the evening before, and with that easy, whimsical humor and the direct manner of the person who is sure ofherself; and in the sober, disillusioning daylight she had no lessof beauty than had seemed hers in the softer lighting of their firstmeeting. The clear, fresh face with its violet-blue eyes was gazing athim intently. Larry realized that she was looking into the very soul ofhim, and he sat silent during this estimate which he recognized she hadthe right to make. 

"Mr. Hunt has written me the main facts about you, certainly the worst, "she said finally. "You need tell me nothing further, if you prefer notto do so; but it might be helpful if I knew more of the details. "

Larry felt that there was no information he was not willing to give thisclear-eyed, charming woman; and so he told her all that had happenedsince his return from Sing Sing, including his falling in love withMaggie, the nature of their conflict, her departure into the ways of herambition. 

"You are certainly facing a lot of difficult propositions. " MissSherwood checked them off on her fingers. "The police are afteryou--your old friends are after you--you do not dare be caught. Youwant to clear yourself--you want to make a business success--you wantto eradicate Maggie's present ambitions and remove her from her presentinfluences. "

"That is the correct total, " said Larry. 

"Certainly a large total! Of them all, which is the most importantitem?"

Larry considered. "Maggie, " he confessed. "But Maggie really includesall the others. To have any influence with her, I must get out of thepower of the police, I must overcome her belief that I am a stool anda squealer, and I must prove to her that I can make a success by goingstraight. "

"Just so. And all these things you must do while a fugitive in hiding. "

"Exactly. Or else not do them. "

"H'm!... The most pressing thing, I judge, is to have a safe andpermanent place to hide, and to have work which may lead to anopportunity to prove yourself a success. "

"Yes. "

"Mr. Hunt's O. K. On you would be sufficient, in any event, and he hasgiven that O. K. , " Miss Sherwood said in her even voice. "Besides, my ownjudgment prompts me to believe in your truth and your sincerity. I havebeen thinking the matter over since I saw you last night. I thereforeask you to remain here, never leaving the apartment--"

"Miss Sherwood!" he ejaculated. 

"And a little later, when we go out to our place on Long Island, you'llhave more freedom. For the present you will be, to the servants and anyother persons who may chance to come in, Mr. Brandon, a second cousinstaying with us; and your explanation for never venturing forth can bethat you are convalescing after an operation. Perhaps you can think of aplan whereby later on you might occasionally leave the house without toogreat risk to yourself. "

"Yes. The risk comes from the police, and from some of my old friendsand the gangsters they have enlisted. So long as they believe me inNew York, they'll all be on the lookout for me every moment. If theybelieved me out of New York, they would all discontinue their vigilance. If--if--But perhaps you would not care to do so much. "

"Go on. "

"Would you be willing to write a letter to some friend in Chicago, requesting the friend to post an enclosed letter written by me?"

"Certainly. "

"My handwriting would be disguised--but a person who really knows mywriting would penetrate the attempted disguise and recognize it as mine. My letter would be addressed to my grandmother requesting her to expressmy recent purchase of forfeited pledges to me in Chicago. A cleverperson reading the letter would be certain I was asking her to send memy clothes. "

"What's the point to that?"

"One detail of the police's search for me will be to open secretly, withthe aid of the postal authorities, all mail addressed to my grandmother. They will steam open this letter about my clothes, then seal it and letit be delivered. But they will have learned that I have escaped them andam in Chicago. They will drop the hunt here and telegraph the Chicagopolice, And of course the news will leak through to my old friends, andthey'll also stop looking for me in New York. "

"I see. "

"And enclosed in another letter written by you, I'll send an order, alsoto be posted in Chicago, to a good friend of mine asking him to call atthe express office, get my clothes, and hold them until I call or sendfor them. When he goes and asks for the clothes, the Chicago police willget him and find the order on him. They'll have no charge at all againsthim, but they'll have further proof that I'm in Chicago or some placein the Middle West. The effect will be definitely to transfer the searchfrom New York. "

"Yes, I see, " repeated Miss Sherwood. "Go ahead and do it; I'llhelp you. But for the present you've got to remain right here in theapartment, as I said. And later, when you think the letters have hadtheir effect, you must use the utmost caution. "

"Certainly, " agreed Larry. 

"Now as to your making a start in business. I suspect that my affairsare in a very bad shape. Things were left to my brother, as he told you. I have a lot of papers, all kinds of accounts, which he has brought tome and he's bringing me a great many more. I can't make head or tailof them, and I think my brother is about as much befuddled as I am. Ibelieve only an expert can understand them. Mr. Hunt says you havea very keen mind for such matters. I wish you'd take charge of thesepapers, and try to straighten them out. "

"Miss Sherwood, " Larry said slowly, "you know my record and yet you risktrusting me with your affairs?"

"Not that I wouldn't take the risk--but whatever there is to steal, someone else has already stolen it, or will steal it. Your work will be todiscover thefts or mistakes, and to prevent thefts or mistakes if youcan. You see I am not placing any actual control over stealable propertyin you--not yet.... Well, what do you say?"

"I can only say, Miss Sherwood, that you are more than good, and that Iam more than grateful, and that I shall do my best!"

Miss Sherwood regarded him thoughtfully for a long space. Then she said:"I am going to place something further in your hands, for if you are asclever as I think you are, and if life has taught you as much as I thinkit has, I believe you can help me a lot. My brother Dick is wild andreckless. I wish you'd look out for him and try to hold him in checkwhere you can. That is, if this isn't placing too great a duty on you. "

"That's not a duty--it's a compliment!"

"Then that will be all for the present. I'll see you again in an hour ortwo, when I shall have some things ready to turn over to you. "

Back in his bedroom Larry walked exultantly to and fro. He had security!And at last he had a chance--perhaps the chance he had been yearning forthrough which he was ultimately to prove himself a success!... 

He wondered yet more about Miss Sherwood. And again about her and Hunt. Miss Sherwood was clever, gracious, everything a man could want in awoman; and he guessed that behind her humorous references to Hunt therewas a deep feeling for the big painter who was living almost like atramp in the attic of the Duchess's little house. And Larry knew MissSherwood was the only woman in Hunt's life; Hunt had said as much. Theywere everything to each other; they trusted each other. Yet there wassome wide breach between the two; evidently his own crisis had forcedthe only communication which had passed between the two for months. Hewondered what that breach could be, and what had been its cause. 

And then an idea began to open its possibilities. What a splendidreturn, if, somehow, he could do something that would help bringtogether these two persons who had befriended him!... 

But most of the time, while he waited for Miss Sherwood to summon himagain, he wondered about Maggie. Yes, as he had told Miss Sherwood, Maggie was the most important problem of his life: all his many otherproblems were important only in the degree that they aided or hinderedthe solution of Maggie. Where was she?--what was she doing?--how was he, in this pleasant prison which he dared not leave, ever to overcome herscorn of him, and ever to divert her from that dangerous career in whichher proud and excited young vision saw only the brilliant and profitableadventure of high romance?

CHAPTER XIII

When Maggie rode away forever from the house of the Duchess with BarneyPalmer and her father, after the denunciation of Larry by the three ofthem as a stool and a squealer, she was the thrilled container of aboutas many diversified emotions as often bubble and swirl in a young girlat one and the same time. There was anger and contempt toward Larry:Larry who had weakly thrown aside a career in which he was a master, andwho had added to that bad the worse of being a traitor. There was thelifting sense that at last she had graduated; that at last she was setfree from the drab and petty things of life; that at last she was ridingforth into the great brilliant world in which everything happened--forthinto the fascinating, bewildering Unknown. 

Barney and Old Jimmie talked to each other as the taxicab bumped throughthe cobbled streets, their talk being for the most part maledictionsagainst Larry Brainard. But their words were meaningless sounds to thesilent Maggie, all of whose throbbing faculties were just then mergedinto an excited endeavor to perceive the glorious outlines of thedestiny toward which she rode. However, as the cab turned into LafayettePlace and rolled northward, her curiosity about the unknown becameconscious and articulate. 

"Where am I going?" she asked. 

"First of all to a nice, quiet hotel. " It was Barney who answered;somehow Barney had naturally moved into the position of leader, and asnaturally her father had receded to second place. "We've got everythingfixed, Maggie. Rooms reserved, and a companion waiting there for you. "

"A companion!" exclaimed Maggie. "What for?"

"To teach you the fine points of manners, and to help you buy clothes. She's a classy bird all right. I advertised and picked her out of adozen who applied. "

"Barney!" breathed Maggie. She was silent a dazed moment, then asked:"Just--just what am I going to do?"

"Listen, Maggie: I'll spill you the whole idea. I'd have told youbefore, but it's developed rather sudden, and I've not had a realchance, and, besides, I knew you'd be all for it. Jimmie and I havecanned that stock-selling scheme for good--unless an easy chance for itdevelops later. Our big idea now is to put YOU across!" Barney believedthat there might still remain in Maggie some lurking admirationfor Larry, some influence of Larry over her, and to eradicate thesecompletely by the brilliance of what he offered was the chief purpose ofhis further quick-spoken words. "To put you across in the biggest kindof a way, Maggie! A beautiful, clever woman who knows how to use herbrains, and who has brainy handling, can bring in more money, and in asafer way, than any dozen men! And I tell you, Maggie, I'll make you astar!"

"Barney!... But you haven't told me just what I'm to do. "

"The first thing will be just a try-out; it'll help finish youreducation. I've got it doped out, but I'll not tell you till later. Themain idea is not to use you in just one game, Maggie, but to finish youoff so you'll fit into dozens of games--be good year after year. A bigactress who can step right into any big part that comes her way. That'swhat pays! I tell you, Maggie, there's no other such good, steadyproposition on earth as the right kind of woman. And that's what you'regoing to be!"

Maggie had heard much this same talk often before. Then it had beenvague, and had dealt with an indefinite future. Now she was too dazzledby this picture of near events which the eager Barney was drawing to beable to make any comment. 

"I'll be right behind you in everything, and so will Jimmie, " Barneycontinued in his exciting manner--"but you'll be the party out in frontwho really puts the proposition over. And we'll keep to things where thepolice can't touch us. Get a man with coin and position tangled up rightin a deal with a woman, and he'll never let out a peep and he'll comeacross with oodles of money. Hundreds of ways of working that. A strongpoint about you, Maggie, is you have no police record. Neither have I, though the police suspect me--but, as I said, I'll keep off the stageas much as I can. I tell you, Maggie, we're going to put over some greatstuff! Great, I tell you!"

Maggie felt no repugnance to what had been said and implied by Barney. How could she, when since her memory began she had lived among peoplewho talked just these same things? To Maggie they seemed the naturalorder. At that moment she was more concerned by a fascinating necessitywhich Barney's flamboyant enterprise entailed. 

"But to do anything like that, won't I need clothes?"

"You'll need 'em, and you'll have 'em! You're going to have one ofthe swellest outfits that ever happened. You'll make Paris ashamed ofitself!"

"No use blowing the whole roll on Maggie's clothes, " put in Old Jimmie, speaking for the first time. 

Barney turned on him caustically, almost savagely. "You're a hell of afather, you are--counting the pennies on his own daughter! I told youthis was no piker's game, and you agreed to it--so cut out the ideayou're in any nickel-in-the-slot business!"

Old Jimmie felt physical pain at the thought of parting from money onsuch a scale. His earlier plans concerning Maggie had never contemplatedany such extravagance. But he was silenced by the dominant force behindBarney's sarcasm. 

"Miss Grierson--she's your companion--knows what's what about clothes, "continued Barney to Maggie. "Here's the dope as I've handed it to her. You're an orphan from the West, with some dough, who's come to New Yorkas my ward and Jimmie's and we want you to learn a few things. To herand to any new people we meet I'm your cousin and Jimmie is your uncle. You've got that all straight?"

"Yes, " said Maggie. 

"You're to use another name. I've picked out Margaret Cameron for you. We can call you Maggie and it won't be a slip-up--see? If any of thecoppers who know you should tumble on to you, just tell 'em you droppedyour own name so's to get clear of your old life. They can't do anythingto you. And tell 'em you inherited a little coin; that's why you'reliving so swell. They can't do anything about that either. ... Here'swhere we get out. Got a sitting-room, two bedrooms and a bath hired foryou here. But we'll soon move you into a classier hotel. "

The taxi had stopped in front of one of the unpretentious, respectablehotels in the Thirties, just off Fifth Avenue, and Maggie followed thetwo men in. This hotel did, indeed, in its people, its furnishings, itsatmosphere, seem sober and commonplace after the Ritzmore; but at theRitzmore she had been merely a cigarette-girl, a paid onlooker at thegayety of others. Here she was a real guest--here her great life wasbeginning! Maggie's heart beat wildly. 

Up in her sitting-room Barney introduced her to Miss Grierson, thendeparted with a significant look at Old Jimmie, saying he would returnpresently and leaving Old Jimmie behind. Old Jimmie withdrew into acorner, turned to the racing part of the Evening Telegram, which, with the corresponding section of the Morning Telegraph, was his solereading, and left Maggie to the society of Miss Grierson. 

Maggie studied this strange new being, her hired "companion, " withfurtive keenness; and after a few minutes, though she was shyly obedientin the manner of an untutored orphan from the West, she had no fear ofthe other. Miss Grierson was a large, flat-backed woman who was on thedescending slope of middle age. She was really a "gentlewoman, " inthe self-pitying and self-praising sense in which those who advertisethemselves as such use that word. She was all the social forms, allthe proprieties. She was deferentially autocratic; her voice wasmonotonously dignified and cultured; and she was tired, which she had aright to be, for she had been in this business of being a gentlewomanlyhired aunt to raw young girls for over a quarter of a Century. 

To the tired but practical eye of Miss Grierson, here was certainly ayoung woman who needed a lot of working over to make into a lady. And though weary and unthrillable as an old horse, Miss Grierson wasconscientious, and she was going to do her best. 

Maggie made a swift survey of her new home. The rooms were just ordinaryhotel rooms, furnished with the dingy, wholesale pretentiousness ofhotels of the second rate. But they were the essence of luxury comparedto her one room at the Duchess's with its view of dreary back yards. These rooms thrilled her. They were her first material evidence that shewas now actually launched upon her great adventure. 

Maggie had dinner in her sitting-room with Old Jimmie and MissGrierson--and of that dinner, mediocre and sloppy, and chilled by itstransit of twelve stories from the kitchen, Miss Grierson, by way of anintroductory lesson, made an august function, almost diagrammatic inits educational details. After the dinner, with Miss Grierson's slow andformal aid, which consisted mainly in passages impressively declaimedfrom her private book of decorum, Maggie spent two hours in unpackingher suitcase and trunk, and repacking her scanty wardrobe in drawers ofthe chiffonier and dressing-table; a task which Maggie, left to herself, could have completed in ten minutes. 

Maggie was still at this task in her bedroom when she heard Barney enterher sitting-room. "He got away, " she heard him say in a low voice to OldJimmie. 

She slipped quickly out of her bedroom and closed the door behind her. An undefined something had suddenly begun to throb within her. 

"Who got away, Barney?" she demanded in a hushed tone. 

Her look made Barney think rapidly. He was good at quick thinking, wasBarney. He decided to tell the truth--or part of it. 

"Larry Brainard. "

"Got away from what?" she pursued. 

"The police. They were after him on some charge. And some of his palswere after him, too. They were out to get him because he had squealed onRed Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt. Both parties were closing in on himat about the same time. But Larry got a tip somehow, and made hisget-away. "

"When did it happen?"

"Must have happened a little time after we all left the Duchess's. "

"But--but, Barney--how did you learn it so soon?"

"Just ran into Officer Gavegan over on Broadway and he told me, " liedBarney. He preferred not to tell her that he had been upon the scenewith Little Mick and Lefty Ed; for the third figure which Larry haddescried through the misty shadows had indeed been Barney Palmer. AlsoBarney preferred not to tell what further subtle share he had had in thecauses for Larry's flight. 

"Do you think he--he made a safe get-away?"

"Safe for a few hours. Gavegan told me they'd have him rounded up bynoon to-morrow. " Barney was more conscious of Maggie's interest than wasMaggie herself, and again was desirous of destroying it or diverting it. "Generally I'm for the other fellow against the police. But this timeI'm all for the coppers. I hope they land Larry--he's got it coming tohim. Remember that he's a stool and a squealer. "

And swiftly Barney switched the subject. "Let's be moving along, Jimmie. "

He drew Maggie out into the hall, to make more certain that MissGrierson would not overhear. "Well, Maggie, " he exulted, "haven't I madegood so far in my bargain to put you over?"

"Yes. "

"Of course we're going slow at first. That's how you've got tohandle big deals--careful. But you'll sure be a knock-out when thatshe-undertaker in there gets you rigged out in classy clothes. Thenthe curtain will go up on the real show--and it's going to be a bigshow--and you'll be the hit of the piece!"

With that incitement to Maggie's imagination Barney left her; and OldJimmie followed, furtively giving Maggie a brief, uncertain look. 

CHAPTER XIV

A block away from the hotel Barney parted from Old Jimmie. For a spaceBarney thought of his partner. Barney had quick eyes which were quitecapable of taking in two things at once; and while he had seen theexcited glow his final speech had brought back into Maggie's face, hehad also caught that swift look of uncertainty in the lean, cunning faceof Old Jimmie: a look of one who is eager to go on, yet sees himselffrustrated by his own eagerness. To Barney it was a puzzling, suspiciouslook. 

As Barney made his way toward a harbor of refreshment he wondered aboutOld Jimmie--not in the manner Larry had wondered about a father bringinghis daughter up into crooked ways--but he wondered what kind of a manbeneath his shrewd, yielding, placating manner Old Jimmie really was, how far he was to be trusted, whether he was in this game on the levelor whether he was playing some very secret hand of his own. Though hehad known and worked with Old Jimmie for years, Barney had never beenadmitted to the inner chambers of the older man's character. He sensedthat there were hidden rooms and twisting passages; and of this much hewas certain, that Old Jimmie was sly and saturnine. 

Well, he would be on guard that Old Jimmie didn't put anything over onyour obliging servant, Barney Palmer!

This was the era of legal prohibition, but thus far Barney had not beenseverely discommoded by the action of the representatives of America'sfree institutions in Washington, for Barney knew his New York. In anex-saloon on Sixth Avenue, which nominally sold only the soft drinkspermitted by the wise men of the Capital, Barney leaned at his ease uponthe bar and remarked: "Give me some of the real stuff, Tim, and forgetthat eye-dropper the boss bought you last week. " Barney had a drink ofthe real stuff, and then another drink, in the measuring of neither ofwhich had an eye-dropper been involved. 

After that, much heartened, he put two dollars upon the bar and wenthis way. His course took the dapper Barney into three of the gayestrestaurants in the Times Square section; and in these Barney paused longenough to speak to a few after-theater supper-parties. For this was thehour when Barney paid his social calls; he was very strict with himselfupon this point. Barney was really by way of being a rising figure inthis particular circle of New York society composed of people who hador believed they had an interest in the theater, of expensively gownedwomen the foreground of whose lives was most attractive, but whosebackground was perhaps wisely kept out of the picture, and of moneyedyoung men who gloried in the idea that they were living the life. Thesesocial calls from gay table to gay table, at all of which Barney waswelcome--for here Barney showed only his most attractive surfaces, hismost brilliant facets--were in truth a very important part of Barney'sbusiness. 

A little later, alone at a corner table in a quieter restaurant, Barneywas eating his supper and making an inventory of his prospects. He wasin a very exultant mood. The whiskey he had drunk had given broadwings to his self-satisfaction; and what he was now sipping from histea-cup--it was not tea, for Barney was on the proper terms with hiswaiter here--this draught from his tea-cup tipped these broad wings at ayet more soaring angle. 

Yes, he had certainly put it over so far. And Maggie would certainlyprove a winner. Those fair women he had chatted with as he had movedfrom table to table, why, they'd be less than dirt compared to Maggiewhen Maggie was rigged out and readied up and the stage was set. And ithad been he, Barney Palmer, who had been the first to discover Maggie'slatent possibilities!

He had an eye beyond mere surfaces, had Barney. He had used women in thepast in putting over many of his more private transactions (and had doneso partly for the reason that using women so was eminently "safe"--thisdespite his violent outburst of sneering disdain at Larry when thelatter had spoken of safety): some of them professional sharpers, someunscrupulous actresses of the lower flight--such women as he had justchatted with in the restaurants where he had made his brief visits. Butsuch, he now recognized, were rather BLASEES, rather too obvious. Theywere the blown rose. But Maggie was fresh, and once she was properlybroken in, she would be his perfect instrument. Yes, perfect!

Barney's plans soared on. Some day, when it fitted in just right withhis plans, he was going to marry Maggie, It was only recently that hehad seen her full charms, and still more recently that he had determinedupon marriage. That decision had materially altered certain details ofthe career Barney had blue-printed for himself. Barney had long regardedmarriage as an asset for himself; a valuable resource which he must holdin reserve and not liquidate, or capitalize, until his own market was atits peak. He knew that he was good-looking, an excellent dancer, that hehad the metropolitan finish. He had calculated that sometime some richgirl, perhaps from the West, who did not know the world too well, wouldfall under the spell of his charms; and he would marry her promptlywhile she was still infatuated, before she could learn too much abouthim. Such had been Barney's idea of marriage for himself; which is verysimilar to ideas held by thousands of gentlemen, young and otherwise, in this broad land of ours, who consider themselves neither law-breakersnor adventurers. 

But that was all changed now. Now it was Maggie, though Maggie inpursuit of their joint advantage might possibly first have to go throughthe marriage ceremony with some other man. Of course, a very, very richman! Barney already had this man marked. He hoped, though, they wouldnot have to go so far as marriage. However, he was willing to wait hisproper turn. As he had told Maggie, you could not put over a big thingin a hurry. 

As for Larry, he'd certainly handled that business in swell fashion!He'd certainly put a crimp in what had been developing between Larry andMaggie. And he'd get Larry in time, too. The drag-net was too large andclose of mesh for Larry to hope to escape it. The word he'd slipped thatboob Gavegan had sure done the business! And the indirect way he hadtipped off the police about Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt and hadthen made his pals think Larry had squealed--that was sure playing thegame, too! Jack and Red would get off easy--there was nothing on them;but little old Barney Palmer had certainly used his bean in the wayhe had set the machinery of the police and the under-world in motionagainst Larry!

While other occupants of the cafe, particularly the women, stole looksat the handsome, flawlessly dressed, interesting-looking Barney, Barneyhad yet another of those concoctions which the discreet waiter served ina tea-cup. He'd done a great little job, you bet! Not another man in NewYork could have done better. He was sure going to put Maggie across! Andin doing so, he was going to do what was right by yours truly. 

All seemed perfect in Barney's world.... 

And while Barney sat exulting over triumphs already achieved and thoseinevitably to be achieved, Maggie lay in her new bed dreaming exultantdreams of her own: heedless of the regular snoring which resounded inthe adjoining room--for the excellent Miss Grierson, while able tokeep her every act in perfect form while in the conscious state, unfortunately when unconscious had no more control of the goings-on ofher mortal functions than the lowliest washwoman. Maggie's flightsof fancy circled round and round Larry. She stifled any excuses orinsurgent yearnings for him. He'd deserved what he had got. Already, contrary to his predictions, she had made a tremendous advance into herbrilliant future. She would show him! Yes, she would show him! Oh, butshe was going to do things!

But while she dreamed thus, shaping a magnificent destiny--anindependent, self-engineered young woman, so very, very confident of thegreat future she was going to achieve through the supremacy of her ownwill and her own abilities--no slightest surmise came into her mind thatBarney Palmer was making plans by which her will was to count as naughtand by which he was to be the master of her fate, and that the furtive, yielding Old Jimmie was also dreaming a patient dream in which she wasto be a mere chess-piece which was to capture a long-cherished game. 

And yet, after all, Maggie's dreams, aside from the peculiar twist lifehad given them, were fundamentally just the ordinary dreams of youth: ofwillful confident youth, to whom but a small part of the world has yetbeen opened, who in fact does not yet half know its own nature. 

CHAPTER XV

No prison could have been more agreeable--that is, no prison from whichMaggie was omitted--than this in which Larry was now confined. He hadthe run of the apartment; Dick Sherwood outfitted him liberally withclothing from his superabundance of the best; Judkins and the otherservants treated him as the member of the family which they had beeninformed he was; the lively Dick, with his puppy-like friendliness, asked never an uncomfortable question, and placed Larry almost on thefooting of a chum; and the whimsically smiling Miss Sherwood treatedLarry exactly as she might have treated any well-bred gentleman and inevery detail made good on her promise to give him a chance. In fact, inall his life Larry had never lived so well. 

As for Miss Sherwood's aunt, a sister of Miss Sherwood's mother and afigure of pale, absent-minded dignity, she kept very much to her ownsitting-room. She was a recent convert to the younger English novelists, and was forced to her seclusion by the amazing fecundity with which theykept repopulating her reading-table. Larry she accepted with a hazy, preoccupied politeness, eager always to get back to the more substantialcharacters of her latest fiction. 

Of course Miss Sherwood did not make of Larry a complete confidant. Forall her smiling, easy frankness, he knew that there were many doorsof her being which she never unlocked for him. What he saw was sointeresting that he could not help being interested about the rest. Ofcourse many details were open to him. She was an excellent sportswoman;a rare dancer; there were many men interested in her; she dined outalmost every other evening at some social affair blooming belatedly inMay (most of her friends were already settled in their country homes, and she was still in town only because her place on Long Island was indisorder due to a two months' delay in the completion of alterationscaused by labor difficulties); she had made a study of beetles; she hada tiny vivarium in the apartment and here she would sit studying herpets with an interest and patience not unlike that of old Fabre upon hisstony farm. Also, as Larry learned from her accounts, there was a daynursery on the East Side whose lack of a deficit was due to her. 

All in all she was a healthy, normal, intelligent, unself-sacrificingwoman who belonged distinctly to her own day; who gave a great deal tolife, and who took a great deal from life. 

Often Larry wished she would speak of Hunt. He was curious about Hunt, of whom he thought daily; and such talk might yield him informationabout the blustering, big-hearted painter who was gypsying it down atthe Duchess's. But as the days passed she never mentioned Hunt again;not even to ask where he was or what he was doing. She was adhering verystrictly to the remark she had made the night Larry came here: "I don'twant to know until he wants me to know. " And so Hunt remained the sameincomplete picture to Larry; the painter was indubitably at home in suchsurroundings as these, and he was at home as a roistering, hard-workingvagabond at the Duchess's--but all the vast spaces between were utterlyblank, except for the sketchy remarks Hunt had made concerning himself. 

Larry had guessed that hurt pride was the reason for Hunt's vanishmentfrom the world which had known him. But he knew hurt pride was not MissSherwood's motive for making no inquiries. Anger? No. Jealousy? No. Some insult offered her? No. Larry went through the category of ordinarymotives, of possible happenings; but he could find none which wouldreconcile her very keen and kindly feeling for Hunt with her abstinencefrom all inquiries. 

From his first day in his sanctuary Larry spent long hours every dayover the accounts and documents Miss Sherwood had put in his hands. Theywere indeed a tangle. Originally the Sherwood estate had consistedof solid real-estate holdings. But now that Larry had before himthe records of holdings and of various dealings he learned that thecharacter of the Sherwood fortune had altered greatly. Miss Sherwood'sfather had neglected the care of this sober business in favor ofspeculative investment and even outright gambling in stocks; andDick, possessing this strain of his father, and lacking his father'sexperience, had and was speculating even more wildly. 

Larry had followed the market since he had been in a broker's officealmost ten years earlier, so he knew what stock values had been andhad some idea of what they were now. The records, and some of the stockLarry found in the safe, recalled the reputation of the elder Sherwood. He had been known as a spirited, daring man who would buy anything orsell anything; he had been several times victimized by sharp traders, some of these out-and-out confidence men. Studying these old recordsLarry remembered that the elder Sherwood a dozen years before had losta hundred thousand in a mining deal which Old Jimmie Carlisle had helpedmanipulate. 

Larry found hundreds and hundreds of thousands of stock in the safe thatwere just so much waste paper, and he found records of other hundreds ofthousands in safety deposit vaults that had no greater value. The realestate, the more solid and to the male Sherwoods the less interestingpart of the fortune, had long been in the care of agents; and sinceLarry was prohibited from going out and studying the condition and truevalue of these holdings, he had to depend upon the book valuations andthe agents' reports and letters. Upon the basis of these valuations heestimated that some holdings were returning a loss, some a bare one anda half per cent, and some running as high as fifteen per cent. Larryfound many complaints from tenants; some threatening letters from theBuilding Department for failure to make ordered alterations to complywith new building laws; and some rather perfunctory letters of adviceand recommendation from the agents themselves. 

From Miss Sherwood Larry learned that the agents were old men, friendsof her father since youth; that they had both made comfortable fortuneswhich they had no incentive to increase. Larry judged that there was nodishonesty on the part of the agents, only laxity, and an easy adherenceto the methods of their earlier years when there had not been so muchcompetition nor so many building laws. All the same Larry judged thatthe real-estate holdings were in a bad way. 

Larry liked the days and days of this work, although the farther he wentthe worse did the tangle seem. It was the kind of work for which hisfaculties fitted him, and this was his first chance to use hisfaculties upon large affairs in an honest way. Thus far his work was alldiagnostic; cure, construction, would not come until later--and perhapsMiss Sherwood would not trust him with such affairs. This investigation, this checking up, involved no risk on her part as she had franklytold him. The other would: it would mean at least partial control ofproperty, the handling of funds. 

Miss Sherwood had many sessions with him; she was interested, but sheconfessed herself helpless in this compilation and diagnosis of somany facts and figures. Dick was prompt enough to report his stocktransactions, and he was eager enough to discuss the probablefluctuation of this or that stock; but when asked to go over what Larryhad done, he refused flatly and good-humoredly to "sit in any such slow, dead game. "

"If my Solomon-headed sister is satisfied with what you're doing, Captain Nemo, that's good enough for me, " he would say. "So forget thatstuff till I'm out of sight. Open up, Captain--what do you think copperis going to do?"

"I wish you could be put on an operating-table and have your speculativestreak knifed out of you, Dick. That oil stock you bought the otherday--why, a blind man could have seen it was wild-cat. And you werewiped out. "

"Oh, the best of 'em get aboard a bad deal now and then. "

"I know. But I've been tabulating all your deals to date, and on thetotal you're away behind. Better leave the market absolutely alone, Dick, and quit taking those big chances. "

"You've got to take some big chances, Captain Nemo"--Dick had clung tothe title he had lightly conferred on Larry the morning he had come into apologize--"or else you'll never make any big winnings. Besides, I want a run for my money. Just getting money isn't enough. I want alittle pep in mine. "

Larry saw that these talks on the unwisdom of speculation he was givingDick were not in themselves enough to affect a change in Dick. Merewords were colorless and negative; something positive would be required. 

Larry hesitated before he ventured upon another matter he had longconsidered. "Excuse my saying it, Dick. But a man who's trying to doas much in a business way as you are, particularly since it's plainspeculation, can't afford to go to after-theater shows three times aweek and to late suppers the other four nights. Two and three o'clock isno bedtime hour for a business man. And that boot-legged booze you drinkwhen you're out doesn't help you any. I know you think I'm talking likea fossilized grand-aunt--but all the same, it's the straight stuff I'mhanding you. "

"Of course it's straight stuff--and you're perfectly all right, CaptainNemo. " With a good-natured smile Dick clapped him on the shoulder. "ButI'm all right, too, and nothing and nobody is going to hurt me. Got tohave a little fun, haven't I? As for the booze, I'm merely making haywhile the sun shines. Soon there'll be no sun--I mean no booze. "

Larry dropped the subject. In his old unprincipled, days his practicehad been much what he had suggested to Dick; as little drink aspossible, and as few late nights as possible. He had needed all his witsall the time. In this matter of hilarious late hours, as in the matterof speculation, Larry recognized words alone, however good, would havelittle effect upon the pleasure-loving, friendly, likable Dick. Anevent, some big experience, would be required to check him short andbring him to his senses. 

While Larry was keeping at this grind something was happening to Larryof which he was not then conscious: something which was part of the bigdevelopment in him that was in time to lead him far. A confidence man isessentially a "sure-thing" gambler. It had been Larry's practice, beforethe law had tripped him up, to study every detail of an enterprise hewas planning to undertake, to know the psychology of the individualswith whom he was dealing, to eliminate every perceivable uncertainty:that was what had made almost all of his deals "sure things. " Strip aclever knave of all intent or inclination for knavery, and leave all hisother qualities and practices intact and eager, and you have the makingsof a "sure-thing" business man:--a man who does not cheat others, and who takes precious care that his every move is sound andforward-looking. Aside from the moral element involved, the differencebetween the two is largely a difference in percentage: say thedifference between a thousand per cent profit and six per cent profit. The element of trying to play a "safe thing" still remains. 

This transformation of character, under the stimulus of hard, steadywork upon a tangled thing which contained the germ of great constructivepossibilities for some one, was what was happening unconsciously toLarry. 

CHAPTER XVI

All this while Maggie, and what he was to do about her, and how do it, was in Larry's mind. Even this work he was doing for Miss Sherwood, hewas doing also for Maggie in the hope that in some unseen way it mightlead him to her and help lead her to herself. There were difficultiesenough between them, God knew; but of them all two were foreverpresenting themselves as foremost: first, he did not dare go openly tosee her; and, second, even if he so dared he did not know where she was. 

When he had been with the Sherwoods some three weeks Larry determinedupon a preliminary measure. By this time he knew that the letters mailedfrom Chicago, according to the plan he had arranged with Miss Sherwood, had had their contemplated effect. He knew that he was supposed by hisenemies to be in Chicago or some other Western point, and that New Yorkwas off its guard as far as he was concerned. 

His preliminary measure was to discover, if possible, Maggie'swhereabouts. The Duchess seemed to him the most likely source ofinformation. He dared not write asking her for this, for he was certainher mail was still being scrutinized. The safest method would be tocall at the pawnshop in person; the police, and his old friends, and theGinger Bucks would expect anything else before they would expect him toreturn to his grandmother's. Of course he must use all precautions. 

Incidentally he was prompted to this method by his desire to see hisgrandmother and Hunt. He had an idea or two which he had been mullingover that concerned the artist. 

He chose a night when a steady, blowing rain had driven all butlimousined and most necessitous traffic from the streets. The rain wasexcuse for a long raincoat with high collar which buttoned under hisnose, and a cap which pulled down to his eyes, and an umbrella whichmasked him from every direct glance. Thus abetted and equipped he came, after a taxi ride and a walk, into his grandmother's street. It was asseemingly deserted as on that tumultuous night when he had left it; andon this occasion no figures sprang out of the cover of shadows, shootingand cursing. He had calculated correctly and unmolested he gained thepawnshop door, passed the solemn-eyed, incurious Isaac, and entered theroom behind. 

His grandmother sat over her accounts at her desk in a corner among hercurios. Hunt, smoking a black pipe, was using his tireless right handin a rapid sketch of her: another of those swift, few-stroked, vividcharacter notes which were about his studio by the hundreds. TheDuchess saw Larry first; and she greeted him in the same unsurprised, emotionless manner as on the night he had come back from Sing Sing. 

"Good-evening, Larry, " said she. 

"Good-evening, grandmother, " he returned. 

Hunt came to his feet, knocking over a chair in so doing, and grippedLarry's hand. "Hello--here's our wandering boy to-night! How are you, son?"

"First-rate, you old paint-slinger. And you?"

"Hitting all twelve cylinders and taking everything on high! But say, listen, youngster: how about your copper friends and those gun-totingschoolmates of yours?"

"Missed them so far. "

"Better keep on missing 'em. " Hunt regarded him intently for a moment, then asked abruptly: "Never heard one way or another--but did you usethat telephone number I gave you?"

"Yes. "

"Miss Sherwood take care of you?"

"Yes. "

"Still there?"

"Yes. "

Again Hunt was silent for a moment. Larry expected questions about MissSherwood, for he knew the quality of the painter's interest. But Huntseemed quite as determined to avoid any personal question relating toMiss Sherwood as she had been about personal questions relating to him;for his next remark was:

"Young fellow, still keeping all those commandments you wrote foryourself?"

"So far, my bucko. "

"Keep on keeping 'em, and write yourself a few more, and you'll have abrand-new decalogue. And we'll have a little Moses of our own. But inthe meantime, son, what's the great idea of coming down here?"

"For one thing, I came to ask for a couple of your paintings. "

"My paintings!" Hunt regarded the other suspiciously. "What the hell youwant my paintings for?"

"They might make good towels if I can scrape the paint off. "

"Aw, cut out the vaudeville stuff! I asked you what you wanted mypaintings for? Give me a straight answer!"

"All right--here's your straight answer: I want your paintings to sellthem. "

"Sell my paintings! Say, are you trying to say something still funnier?"

"I want them to sell them. Remember I once told you that I could sellthem--that I could sell anything. Let me have them, and then just see. "

"You'd sure have to be able to sell anything to sell them!" Achallenging glint had come into Hunt's eyes. "Young fellow, you're sodamned fresh that if you had any dough I'd bet you five thousand, anyodds you like, that you couldn't even GIVE one of the things away!"

"Loan me five thousand, " Larry returned evenly, "and I'll cover the betwith even money--it being understood that I'm to sell the picture at aprice not less than the highest price you ever received for one ofyour 'pretty pictures' which you delight to curse and which made yourfortune. Now bring down your pictures--or shut up!"

Hunt's jaw set. "Young fellow, I take that bet! And I'll not let youoff, either--you'll have to pay it! Which pictures do you want?"

"That young Italian woman sitting on the curb nursing her baby--and anyother picture you want to put with it. "

Hunt went clumping up the stairway. When he was out of earshot, theDuchess remarked quietly:

"What did you really come for, Larry?"

Larry was somewhat taken aback by his grandmother's penetration, but hedid not try to evade the question nor the steady gaze of the old eyes. 

"I thought you might know where Maggie is, and I came to ask. "

"That's what I thought. "

"Do you know where she is?"

"Yes. "

"Where is she?"

The old eyes were still steady upon him. "I don't know that I shouldtell you. I want you to get on--and the less you have to do with Maggie, the better for you. "

"I'd like to know, grandmother. "

The Duchess considered for a long space. "After all, you're of age--andyou've got to decide what's best for yourself. I'll tell you. Maggie washere the other day--dressed simple--to get some letters she'd forgottento take and which I couldn't find. We had a talk. Maggie is living atthe Grantham under the name of Margaret Cameron. She has a suite there. "

"A suite at the Grantham!" exclaimed Larry, astounded. "Why, theGrantham is in the same class with the Ritzmore, where she used towork--or the Plaza! A suite at the Grantham!"

And then Larry gave a twitching start. "At the Grantham--alone?"

"Not alone--no. But it's not what just came into your mind. It's a womanthat's with her; a hired companion. And they're doing everything on aswell scale. "

"What's Maggie up to?"

"She didn't tell me, except to say that the plan was a big one. She wasall excited over it. If you want to know just what it is, ask BarneyPalmer and Old Jimmie. "

"Barney and Old Jimmie!" ejaculated Larry. And then: "Barney and OldJimmie--and a suite at the Grantham!"

At that moment Hunt came back down the stairway, carrying a roll wrappedin brown paper. 

"Here you are, young fellow, " he announced. "De-mounted 'em so the junkwould be easier to handle. The Dago mother you asked for--the secondpainting may be one you'd like to have for your own private gallery. I'm not going to let you get away with your bluff--and don't you forgetit!... Duchess, don't you think he'd better beat it before Gaveganand his loving friends take a tumble to his presence and mess up theneighborhood?"

"Yes, " said the Duchess. "Good-night, Larry. "

"Good-night, " said he. 

Mechanically he took the roll of paintings and slipped it under hisraincoat; mechanically he shook hands; mechanically he got out of thepawnshop; mechanically he took all precautions in getting out ofthe little rain-driven street and in getting into a taxicab which hecaptured over near Cooper Institute. All his mind was upon what theDuchess had told him and upon a new idea which was throbbingly growinginto a purpose. Maggie and Barney and Old Jimmie! Maggie in a suite atthe Grantham!

What Larry now did, as he got into the taxi, he would have calledfootless and foolhardy an hour before, and at any other hour hisjudgment might have restrained him. But just now he seemed controlledby a force greater than smooth-running judgment--a composite of manyforces: by sudden jealousy, by a sudden desire to shield Maggie, by asudden desire to see her. So as he stepped into the taxi, he said:

"The Grantham--quick!"

CHAPTER XVII

The taxi went rocking up Fourth Avenue. But now that decision was madeand he was headed toward Maggie, a little of judgment reasserted itself. It would not be safe for him to walk openly into the Grantham with amouthful of questions. He did not know the number of Maggie's suite. AndMaggie might not be in. So he revised his plan slightly. He called tohis driver:

"Go to the Claridge first. "

Five minutes later the taxi was in Forty-Fourth Street and Larrywas stepping out. Fortune favored him in one fact--or perhaps hissubconscious mind had based his plan upon this fact: the time washalf-past ten, the theaters still held their crowds, the streets wereempty, the restaurants were practically unoccupied. He was incurring theminimum of risk. 

"Wait for me, " he ordered the driver. "I'll be out in five minutes. "

In less than the half of the first of these minutes Larry had attainedhis first objective: the secluded telephone-room down behind the grill. It was unoccupied except for the telephone girl who was gazing raptly atthe sorrowful, romantic, and very soiled pages of "St. Elmo. " The nextmoment she was gazing at something else--a five-dollar bill which Larryhad slipped into the open book. 

"That's to pay for a telephone call; just keep the change, " he saidrapidly. "You're to do all the talking, and say just what I tell you. "

"I got you, general, " said the girl, emerging with alacrity from romanceto reality. "Shoot. "

"Call up the Hotel Grantham--say you're a florist with an order todeliver some flowers direct to Miss Margaret Cameron--and ask for thenumber of her suite--and keep the wire open. "

The girl obeyed promptly. In less than a minute she was reporting toLarry:

"They say 1141-1142-1143. "

"Ask if she's in. If she is, get her on the 'phone, tell her longdistance is calling, but doesn't want to speak to her unless she isalone. You get it?"

"Sure, brother. This ain't the first time I helped a party out. "

There was more jabbing with the switch-board plug, evident switching atthe other end, several questions, and then the girl asked: "Is this MissMargaret Cameron? Miss Cameron--" and so on as per Larry's instructions. 

The operator turned to Larry: "She says she's alone. "

"Tell her to hold the wire till you get better connections--the stormhas messed up connections terribly--and keep your own wire open and makeher hold her end. "

As Larry went out he heard his instructions being executed while anadept hand safely banked the bill inside her shirt-waist. Within twominutes his taxi set him down at the Grantham; and knowing that whateverrisks he ran would be lessened by his acting swiftly and without anysuspicious hesitation, he walked straight in and to the elevators, inthe manner of one having business there, his collar again pulled up, his cap pulled down, and his face just then covered with a handkerchiefwhich was caring for a sniffling nose in a highly natural manner. 

With his heart pounding he got without mishap to the doors numbered1141, 1142, and 1143. Instinctively he knew in a general way what theapartment was like: a set of rooms of various character which the hotelcould rent singly or throw together and rent en suite. But which of thethree was the main entrance? He dared not hesitate, for the slightestqueer action might get the attention of the floor clerk downthe corridor. So Larry chose the happy medium and pressed themother-of-pearl button of 1142. 

The door opened, and before Larry stood a large, elderly, imposing womanin a rigidly formal evening gown--a gown which, by the way, had beenpart of Miss Grierson's equipment for many a year for helping raw youngthings master the art of being ladies. Larry surmised at once that thiswas the "hired companion" his grandmother had spoken of. In other daysLarry had had experience with this type and before Miss Grierson couldbar him out or ask a question, Larry was in the room and the door closedbehind him--and he had entered with the easiest, most natural, mostpolite manner imaginable. 

"You were expecting me?" inquired Larry with his disarming and whollyengaging smile. 

Neither Miss Grierson's mind nor body was geared for rapid action. Shewas taken aback, and yet not offended. So being at a loss, she resortedto the chief item in her stock in trade, her ever dependable dignity. 

"I cannot say that I was. In fact, sir, I do not know who you are. "

"Miss Cameron knows--and she is expecting me, " Larry returnedpleasantly. His quick eyes had noted that this was a sitting-room: anornate, patterned affair which the great hotels seem to order in hundredlots. "Where is Miss Cameron?"

"In the next room, " nodding at the connecting door. "She is engaged. Telephoning. A long-distance call. I'm quite sure she is not expectingyou, " Miss Grierson went on to explain ponderously and elaborately, but with politeness, for this young man was handsome and pleasant andwell-bred and might prove to be some one of real importance. "We wereto have had a theater party with supper afterwards; but owing to MissCameron's indisposition we did not go to the theater. But she insistedon keeping the engagement for the supper, but changing it to here. Besides herself and myself, there are to be only her uncle, her cousin, and just one guest. That is why I am so certain, sir, she is notexpecting you. "

"But you see, " smiled Larry, "I am that one guest. "

Miss Grierson shook her carefully coiffured transformation. "I've metthe guest who is coming, and I certainly have not met you. "

"Then she must have asked two of us. Anyhow, I'll just speak to her, andif I'm mistaken and de trop, I'll withdraw. " And ere Miss Grierson couldeven stir up an intention to intervene further, this well-manneredyoung man had smiled his disarming smile and bowed to her and had passedthrough the door, closing it behind him. 

He halted, the knob in his hand. Maggie was standing sidewise to him, holding a telephone in her hand, its receiver at her ear. She must havesupposed that it was Miss Grierson who had so quietly entered, for shedid not look around. 

"Yes, I'm still waiting, " she was saying impatiently. "Can't you everget that connection?"

Larry had seen Maggie only in the plain dark suit which she had worn toher daily business of selling cigarettes at the Ritzmore; and once, onthe night of his return from Sing Sing, in that stage gypsy costume, which though effective was cheap and impromptu and did not at all lifther out of the environment of the Duchess's ancient and grimy house. But Larry was so startled by this changed Maggie that for the momenthe could not have moved from the door even had he so desired. She wasaccoutered in the smartest of filmy evening gowns, with the short skirtwhich was then the mode, with high-heeled silver slippers, her roundedarms and shoulders and bosom bare, her abundant black hair piled high incareful carelessness. The gown was cerise in color, and from her forearmhung a great fan of green plumes. In all the hotels and theaters of NewYork one could hardly have come upon a figure that night more strikingin its finished and fresh young womanhood. Larry trembled all over; hisheart tried to throb madly up out of his throat. 

At length he spoke. And all he was able to say was:

"Maggie. "

She whirled about, and telephone and receiver almost fell from herhands. She went pale, and stared at him, her mouth agape, her dark eyeswide. 

"La-Larry!" she whispered. 

"Maggie!" he said again. 

"La-Larry! I thought you were in Chicago. "

"I'm here now, Maggie--especially to see you. " He did not know it, buthis voice was husky. He noted that she was still holding the telephoneand receiver. "It was I who put in that long-distance call. But I cameinstead. So you might as well hang up. "

She obeyed, and set the instrument upon its little table. 

"Larry--where have you been all this while?"

He was now conscious enough to note that there was tense concern in hermanner. He exulted at it, and crossed and took her hand. 

"Right here in New York, Maggie. "

"In hiding?"

"In mighty good hiding. "

"But, Larry--don't you know it's dangerous for you to come out? And tocome here of all places?"

"I couldn't help myself. I simply had to see you, Maggie. "

He was still holding her hand, and there was an instinctive grip of herfingers about his. For a moment--the moment during which her outer ormore conscious self was startled into forgetfulness--they gazed at eachother silently and steadily, eye into eye. 

And then the things the Duchess had said crept back into his mind, andhe said:

"Maggie, I've come to take you out of all this. Get ready--let's leaveat once. "

That broke the spell. She jerked away from him, and instantly she wasthe old Maggie: the Maggie who had jeered at him and defied him thenight of his return from prison when he had announced his new plan--theMaggie who had flaunted him as "stool" and "squealer" the evening shehad left the Duchess's to enter upon this new career. 

"No, you're not going to take me out of this!" she flung at him. "Itold you once before that I wasn't going your way! I told you that I wasgoing my own way! That held for then, and it holds for now, and it willhold for always!"

The softer mood which had come upon him by surprise at sight of her andfilled him, now gave way to grim determination. "Yes, you are coming myway--sometime, if not now! And now if I can make you!"

Their embattled gazes gripped each other. But now Larry was seeing morethan just Maggie. He was also taking in the room. It was close kin tothe room in which he had left Miss Grierson: ornate, undistinguished, and very expensive. He noted one slight difference: a tiny hallwaygiving on the corridor, its inner door now opened. 

But the greatest difference was what he saw over Maggie's smooth whiteshoulders: a table all set with china and glass and silver, and arrangedfor five. 

"Maggie, what's this game you're up to?" he demanded. 

"It's none of your business!" she said fiercely, but in a low tone--forboth were instinctively remembering Miss Grierson in the adjoining room. And then she added proudly: "But it's big! Bigger than anything you everdreamed of! And you can see I am putting it across so far--and I'll beputting it across at the finish! Compare it to the cheap line you talkedabout. Bah!"

"Listen, Maggie!" In his intensity he gripped her bare forearm. "This isbad business, and if you had any sense you'd know it! Don't you thinkI get the layout? Barney is your cousin, Old Jimmie is your uncle, thatdame in the next room and this suite and your swell clothes to help putup a front! And your sickness that wouldn't let you go to the theateris just a fake, so that, not wanting to disappoint them entirely, you'dhave an excuse for having supper here--and thus adroitly draw someperson into the trap of a more intimate relationship. It's a clever andclassy layout. Maggie, exactly what's your game?"

"I'll not tell you!"

"Who's that man that's coming here?"

"I'll not tell you!"

"Is he the sucker you're out to trim?"

"I'll not tell you!"

"You will tell me!" he cried dominantly. "And you're going to get outof all this! You hear me? It may look good to you now. But I tell you ithas only one finish! And that's a rotten finish!"

She tore free from his punishing grip, and pantingly glared at him--herformer defiance now an egoistic fury. 

"I won't have you interfering with my life!--you fake preacher!--youstool, you squealer!" she flung at him madly. "Stool--squealer!" sherepeated. "I tell you I'm going my own way--and it's a big way--and Itell you again nothing you can say or do can stop me! If I could have mybest wish, all I'd wish for would be something to keep you from alwaysinterfering--something to get you out of my way!"

Panting, she paused. Her tense figure, with hands closing and unclosing, expressed the very acme of furious defiance--of desire to annihilate--ofultimate hatred. Larry was astounded by the very extent, the profundity, of her passion. And so they stood, silent except for their quickbreathing, eyes fixed upon eyes, for several moments. 

And then a key sounded in the outer door of the little hallway. Instantly there was an almost unbelievable transformation in Maggie. From an imperious, uncontrollable fury, she changed to a white, quivering thing. 

"Barney!" she whispered; and sprang to the inner door of the littlehallway, closed and locked it. 

She turned on Larry a face that was ghastly in its pallor. 

"Barney always carries a pistol, " she whispered. 

They had heard the outer door close with a click of its automatic lock. They now heard the knob of the inner door turn and tugged at; and thenheard Barney call: "What's the matter, Maggie? Let us in. "

Maggie made a supreme effort to reply in a controlled voice:

"Just a minute. I'm not quite ready. "

Then a second voice sounded from the other side of the door:

"Don't keep us too long, Maggie. Please!"

There was a distantly familiar quality to Larry in that second voice. But he did not try to place it then: he was too poignantly concerned inhis own situation, and in the bewildering change in Maggie. 

She slipped a hand through his arm. "Oh, La-Larry, why did you evertake such a risk!" she breathed. Her whisper was piteous, aquiver withfright. "Come this way!" and she quickly pulled him into the room wherehe had met Miss Grierson and to the door by which he had entered. 

Maggie opened this door. "They're all in the little hallway--I don'tthink they'll see you, " her rapid, agitated whisper went on. "Don'ttake the elevators in this corridor, they're in plain sight. There areelevators just around the corner. Take them; they're safer. Good-bye, Larry--and, oh, Larry, don't ever take such a risk again!"

With that she pushed him out and closed the door. 

Larry followed her instructions about the elevator; he used the sameprecautions in leaving that he had used in coming, and twenty minuteslater he was back in his room in the Sherwood apartment. For an hour ormore he sat motionless--thinking--thinking: asking himself questions, but in his tumultuous state of mind and emotions not able to keep to aquestion long enough to reason out its possible answer. 

Just what was that game in which Maggie was involved?--a game whichrequired that Grantham setting, that eminently respectable companion, and Maggie's accouterment as a young lady of obvious wealth. 

Whose was that vaguely familiar second voice?--that voice which he stillcould not place. 

But what he thought about most of all was something very different. Whathad caused that swift change in Maggie?--from a fury that was bothfire and granite, to that pallid, quivering, whispering girl who had sorapidly led him safely out of his danger. 

To and fro, back and forth, shuttled these questions. Toward two o'clockhe stood up, mind still absorbed, and mechanically started to undress. He then observed the roll of paintings Hunt had given him. Better forthem if they were flattened out. Mechanically he removed string andpaper. There on top was the Italian mother he had asked for. A greatpainting--a truly great painting. Mechanically he lifted this aside tosee what was the second painting Hunt had included. Larry gave a greatstart and the Italian mother went flapping to the floor. 

The second painting was of Maggie; the one on which Hunt had beenworking the day Larry had come back: Maggie in her plain workingclothes, looking out at the world confidently, conqueringly; thepainting in which Hunt, his brain teeming with ideas, had tried toexpress the Maggie that was, the many Maggies that were in her, and theMaggie that was yet to be. 

CHAPTER XVIII

The next morning Larry tried to force his mind to attend strictly toMiss Sherwood's affairs. But in this effort he was less than fiftyper cent effective. His experience of the night before had been tooexciting, too provocative of speculation, too involved with what hefrankly recognized to be the major interest of his life, to allow himto apply himself with perfect and unperturbed concentration to the day'sroutine. Constantly he was seeing the transformed Maggie in the ceriseevening gown with the fan of green plumes--seeing her elaboratesetting in her suite at the Grantham--hearing that vaguely familiar butunplaceable voice outside her door--recalling the frenzied effort withwhich Maggie had so swiftly effected his escape. 

This last matter puzzled him greatly. If she were so angered at him asshe had declared, if she so distrusted him, why had she not given him upwhen she had had him at her mercy? Could it be that, despite her words, she had an unacknowledged liking for him? He did not dare let himselfbelieve this. 

Again and again he thought of this adventure in whose very middle Maggienow was, and of whose successful issue she had proudly boasted to him. It was indeed something big, as she had said; that establishment at theGrantham was proof of this. Larry could now perceive the adventure'sgeneral outlines. There was nothing original in what he perceived; andthe plan, so far as he could see it, would not have interested him inthe least as a novel creation of the brain were not Maggie its centralfigure, and were not Barney and Old Jimmie her directing agents. A pretty woman was being used as a lure to some rich man, and hisinfatuation for her was to cause him to part with a great deal ofmoney: some variation of this ancient idea, which has a thousandvariations--that was the plan. 

Obviously the enterprise was not directed at some gross victim whosepalate might permit his swallowing anything. If any one item essentiallyproved this, it was the item of the overwhelmingly respectable chaperon. Maggie was being presented as an innocent, respectable, young girl; andthe victim, whoever he was, was the type of man for whom only such atype of girl would have a compelling appeal. 

And this man--who was he? Ever and again he tried to place the man'svoice, with its faintly familiar quality, but it kept dodging away likea dream one cannot quite recall. 

The whole business made Larry rage within himself. Maggie to be usedin such a way! He did not blame Maggie, for he understood her. Also heloved her. She was young, proud, willful, had been trained to regardsuch adventures as colorful and legitimate; and had not lived longenough for experience to teach her otherwise. No, Maggie was not toblame. But Old Jimmie! He would like to twist Old Jimmie's neck! Butthen Old Jimmie was Maggie's father; and the mere fact of Old Jimmiebeing Maggie's father would, he knew, safeguard the old man from hiswrath even were he at liberty to go forth and act. 

He cursed his enforced seclusion. If only he were free to go out anddo his best in the open! But then, even if he were, his best endeavorswould have little influence upon Maggie--with her despising anddistrusting him as she did, and with her so determined to go ahead inher own way. 

Once during the morning, he slipped from the library into his roomand gazed at the portrait of Maggie that Hunt had given him the nightbefore: Maggie, self-confident, willful, a beautiful nobody who wasstaring the world out of countenance; a Maggie that was a thousandpossible Maggies. And as he gazed he thought of the wager he had madewith Hunt, and of his own rather scatter-brained plannings concerningit. He removed Maggie's portrait from the fellowship of the picture ofthe Italian mother, and hid it in his chiffonier. Whatever he might doin his endeavor to make good his boast to Hunt, for the present he wouldregard Maggie's portrait as his private property. To use the painting ashe had vaguely planned, before he had been surprised to find it Maggie'sportrait, would be to pass it on into other possession where itmight become public--where, through some chance, the Maggie of theworking-girl's cheap shirt-waist might be identified with the rich MissCameron of the Grantham, to Maggie's great discomfiture, and possibly toher entanglement with the police. 

When Miss Sherwood came into the library a little later, Larry tried toput Maggie and all matters pertaining to his previous night's adventureout of his mind. He had enough other affairs which he was tryingadroitly to handle--for instance, Miss Sherwood and Hunt; and when hisbusiness talk with her was ended, he remarked:

"I saw Mr. Hunt last evening. "

He watched her closely, but he could detect no flash of interest atHunt's name. 

"You went down to your grandmother's?"

"Yes. "

"That was a very great risk for you to take, " she reproved him. "I'mglad you got back safely. "

Despite the disturbance Maggie had been to his thoughts, part of hisbrain had been trying to make plans to forward this other aim; so henow told Miss Sherwood of his wager with Hunt and his bringing awaya picture--he said "one picture. " He wanted to awaken the suppressedinterest each had in the other; to help bridge or close the chasm whichhe sensed had opened between them. So he brought the picture of theItalian mother from his room. She regarded it critically, but with nosign of approval or disapproval. 

"What do you think of it?" she asked. 

"It's a most remarkable piece of work!" he said emphatically--wishing hecould bring in that picture of Maggie as additional evidence supportinghis opinion. 

She made no further comment, and it was up to Larry to keep theconversation alive. "What is the most Mr. Hunt ever was paid for apainting? I mean one of what he swears at as his `pretty pictures'?"

"I believe about two thousand dollars. "

That was part of the information necessary to Larry's plan. 

"Miss Sherwood, I'm going to ask another favor of you. In connectionwith a bet I made with Mr. Hunt. I want to talk with a picturedealer--the best one there is. I can't very well go to him. Can youmanage to have him come here?"

"Easily. I know the man best for your purpose. I'll telephone, and ifhe's in New York he'll come to see you this afternoon. "

"Thank you. "

She started out, then turned. "Better finish your business with himto-day if you can. We go to the country to-morrow or the day after. I'vejust had word that the workmen are finally out of the house; though thegrounds, of course, are in bad shape, and will probably remain so. Withthis labor situation, it's practically impossible to get men. "

Larry remembered something else. "Miss Sherwood, you recall my oncespeaking about a man I got to be friends with in prison--Joe Ellison?"

"Yes. "

"I've written him, under an assumed name, of course, and have had ananswer. He'll be out in a very few days now. He's through with his oldways. I know he'd like nothing better than a quiet place to work, off tohimself somewhere. I'm sure you can trust him. "

"We'll arrange to have him come out to Cedar Crest. Oh, don't think I'mbeing generous or sentimental, " she interrupted smilingly as he startedto thank her. "I'd be glad to put two or three more ex-convicts to workon our place if I could get them. And so would my friends; they can'tget workmen of any kind. "

That afternoon the picture dealer came. Miss Sherwood introduced Larryto him as Mr. Brandon, her cousin, and then left the two men together. Larry appraised Mr. Graham as a shrewd man who knew his business and whowould like to score a triumph in his own particular field. He decidedthat the dealer had to be handled with a great deal of frankness, andwith some stiff bluffing which must appear equally frank. The secretof Larry's earlier success had been to establish confidence and evenenthusiasm in something which had little or no value. In selling anhonest thing at an honest price, the first and fundamental procedure wasthe same, to establish confidence and, if possible, enthusiasm. 

From the moment of introduction Larry quietly assumed the manner of anart collector who was very sure of himself; which manner was abetted bythe setting of the Sherwood library. He felt something of the old zestwhen wits had been matched against wits, even though this was to be astrictly honorable enterprise. 

"You know the work of Mr. Jerome Hunt?" he asked. 

"I have handled practically all his work since he began to sell, "replied Mr. Graham. 

"I was referring to work in his recent manner. "

"He has not been doing any work recently, " corrected Mr. Graham. 

"No?" Larry picked up the Italian mother which for this occasion he hadmounted with thumb-tacks upon a drawing-board, and stood it upon a chairin the most advantageous light. "There is a little thing in Mr. Hunt'srecent manner which I lately purchased. "

Mr. Graham regarded the painting long and critically. 

Finally he remarked:

"At least it is different. "

"Different and better, " said Larry with his quiet positiveness. "So muchbetter that I paid him three thousand dollars for it. "

"Three thousand!" The dealer regarded Larry sharply. "Three thousand forthat?"

"Yes. And I consider that I got a bargain. "

Mr. Graham was silent for several moments. Then he said "For what reasonhave I been asked here?"

"I want you to undertake to sell this picture. "

"For how much?"

"Five thousand dollars. "

"Five thousand dollars!"

"It is easily worth five thousand, " Larry said quietly. 

"If you value it so highly, why do you want to sell?"

"I am pressed by the present money shortage. Also I secured a secondpicture when I got this one. That second picture I shall not sell. Youshould have no difficulty in selling this, " Larry continued, "if youhandle the matter right. Think of how people have started again to talkabout Gaugin: about his starting to paint in a new manner down there inthe Marquesas Islands, of his trading a picture for a stick of furnitureor selling it for a few hundred francs--which same paintings are noweach worth a small fortune. Capitalize this Gaugin talk; also the talkabout poor mad Blakeslie. You've got a new sensation. One all your own. "

"You can't start a sensation with one painting, " Mr. Graham remarkeddryly. 

This had been the very remark Larry had adroitly been trying to drawfrom the dealer. 

"Why, that's so!" he exclaimed. And then as if the thought had only thatmoment come to him: "Why not have an exhibition of paintings done in hisnew manner? He's got a studio full of things just as characteristic asthis one. "

Larry caught the gleam which came into the dealer's eyes. It wasinstantly masked. 

"Too late in the spring for a picture show. Couldn't put on anexhibition before next season. "

"But why not have a private pre-exhibition showing?" Larry argued--"withspecial invitations sent to a small, carefully chosen list, putting itover strong to them that you were offering them the chance of a firstand exclusive view of something very remarkable. Most of them will feelflattered and will come. And that will start talk and stir up interestin your public exhibition in the fall. That's the idea!"

Again there was the gleam, quickly masked, in the dealer's eyes. ButLarry got it. 

"How do I know this picture here isn't just an accident?--the only oneof the sort Mr. Hunt has ever painted, or ever will paint?" cautiouslyinquired Mr. Graham. "You said you had a second picture. May I see it?"

Larry hesitated. But he believed he had the dealer almost "sold"; alittle more and Mr. Graham would be convinced. So he brought in Maggie'sportrait. The dealer looked it over with a face which he tried to keepexpressionless. 

"How much is this one?" he asked at length. 

"It is not for sale. "

"It will bring more money than the other. It's a more interestingsubject. "

"That's why I'm keeping it, " said Larry. "I think you'll admit, Mr. Graham, that this proves that Mr. Hunt is not now painting accidents. "

"You're right. " The mask suddenly dropped from Mr. Graham's face; he wasno longer merely an art merchant; he was also an art enthusiast. "Hunthas struck something bold and fresh, and I think I can put him over. I'll try that scheme you mentioned. Tell me where I can find him andI'll see him at once. "

"That picture has got to be sold before I give you his address. No useseeing him until then; he'd laugh at you, and not listen to anything. He's sore at the world; thinks it doesn't understand him. An actual salewould be the only argument that would have weight with him. "

"All right--I'll buy the picture myself. Hunt and I have had a fallingout, and I'd like him to have proof that I believe in him. " Again Mr. Graham was the art merchant. "Though, of course, I can't pay the fivethousand you ask. Hunt's new manner may catch on, and it may not. It's abig gamble. "

"What will you pay?"

"What you paid for it--three thousand. "

"That's an awful drop from what I expected. When can you pay it?"

"I'll send you my check by an assistant as soon as I get back to myplace. "

"I told you I was squeezed financially--so the picture is yours. I'llsend you Mr. Hunt's present address when I receive your check. Make itpayable to 'cash. '"

When Mr. Graham had gone with the Italian mother--it was then the veryend of the afternoon--Larry wondered if his plan to draw Hunt out of hishermitage was going to succeed; and wondered what would be the result, if any, upon the relationship between Hunt and Miss Sherwood if Huntshould come openly back into his world an acclaimed success, andcome with the changed attitude toward every one and every thing thatrecognition bestows. 

But something was to make Larry wonder even more a few minutes later. Dick, that habitual late riser, had had to hurry away that morningwithout speaking to him. Now, when he came home toward six o'clock, Dickshouted cheerily from the hallway:

"Ahoy! Where you anchored, Captain Nemo?"

Larry did not answer. He sat over his papers as one frozen. He knewnow whose had been the elusively familiar voice he had heard outsideMaggie's door. It was Dick Sherwood's. 

Dick paused without to take some messages from Judkins, and Larry's mindraced feverishly. Dick Sherwood was the victim Maggie and Barney and OldJimmie were so cautiously and elaborately trying to trim! It seemed animpossible coincidence. But no, not impossible, after all. Their nethad been spread for just such game: a young man, impressionable, pleasure-loving, with plenty of money, and with no strings tied to hisspending of it. That Barney should have made his acquaintance was easilyexplained; to establish acquaintance with such persons as Dick wasBarney's specialty. What more natural than that the high-spirited, irresponsible Dick should fall into this trap?--or indeed that he shouldhave been picked out in advance as the ideal victim and have been drawninto it?

"Hello, there!" grumbled Dick, entering. "Why didn't you answer ashipmate's hail?"

"I heard you; but just then I was adding a column of figures, and I knewyou'd look in. "

At that moment Larry noted the portrait of Maggie, looking up from thechair beside him. With a swiftness which he tried to disguise into amechanical action, he seized the painting and rolled it up, face inside. 

"What's that you've got?" demanded Dick. 

"Just a little daub of my own. "

"So you paint, too. What else can you do? Let's have a look. "

"It's too rotten. I'd rather let you see something else--though all mystuff is bad. "

"You wouldn't do any little thing, would you, to brighten this tiredesthour in the day of a tired business man, " complained Dick. "I've reallybeen a business man to-day, Captain. Worked like the devil--or anangel--whichever works the harder. "

He lit a cigarette and settled with a sigh on the corner of Larry'sdesk. Larry regarded him with a stranger and more contradictingmixture of feelings than he had ever thought to contain: solicitude forDick--jealousy of him--and the instinct to protect Maggie. This lastseemed to Larry grotesquely absurd the instant it seethed up in him, butthere the instinct was: was Dick treating Maggie right?

"How was the show last night, Dick?"

"Punk!"

"I thought you said you were to see 'The Jest. ' I've heard it's one ofthe best things for years. "

"Oh, I guess the show's all right. But the company was poor. My company, I mean. The person I wanted to see couldn't come. "

"Hope you had a supper party that made up for the disappointment, "pursued Larry, adroitly trying to lead him on. 

"I sure had that, Captain!"

Dick slid to a chair beside Larry, dropped a hand on Larry's knee, andsaid in a lowered tone:

"Captain, I've recently met a new girl--and believe me, she's aknock-out!"

"Better keep clear of those show girls, Dick. "

"Never again! The last one cured me for life. Miss Cameron--MaggieCameron, how's that for a name?--is no Broadway girl, Captain. She's noteven a New York girl. "

"No?"

"She's from some place out West. Father owned several big ranches. Shesays that explains her crudeness. Her crude? I should say not! Theydon't grow better manners right here in New York. And she's pretty, andclever, and utterly naive about everything in New York. Though I mustsay, " Dick added, "that I'm not so keen about her cousin and her uncle. I'd met the cousin a few times the last year or two around town; hebelongs here. The two are the sort of poor stock that crops out in everygood family. They've got one merit, though: they don't try to impose onher too much. "

"What is your Miss Cameron doing in New York?"

"Having her first look at the town before going to some resort for thesummer; perhaps taking a cottage somewhere. I say, Captain"--leaningcloser--"I wish you didn't feel you had to stick around this apartmentso tight. I'd like to take you out and introduce you to her. "

Larry could imagine the resulting scene if ever this innocently proposedintroduction were given. 

"I guess that for the present I'll have to depend upon your reports, Dick. "

"Well, you can take it from me that she's just about all right!"

It was Larry's strange instinct to protect Maggie that prompted his nextremark:

"You're not just out joy-riding, are you, Dick?"

Dick flushed. "Nothing of that sort. She's not that kind of girl. Besides--I think it's the real thing, Captain. "

The honest look in Dick's eyes, even more than his words, quietedLarry's fear for Maggie. Presently Dick walked out leaving Larry yetanother problem added to his life. He could not let anything happento Maggie. He could not let anything happen to Dick. He had to protecteach; he had to do something. Yet what could he do?

Yes, this certainly was a problem! He paced the room, another victim ofthe ancient predicament of divided and antagonistic duty. 

CHAPTER XIX

The night of Larry's unexpected call upon her at the Grantham, Maggiehad pulled herself together and aided by the imposing Miss Grierson haddone her best as ingenue hostess to her pseudo-cousin, Barney, and herpseudo-uncle, Old Jimmie, and to their quarry, Dick Sherwood, whomthey were so cautiously stalking. But when Dick had gone, and when MissGrierson had withdrawn to permit her charge a little visit with herrelatives, Barney had been prompt with his dissatisfaction. 

"What was the matter with you to-night, Maggie?" he demanded. "Youdidn't play up to your usual form. "

"If you don't like the way I did it, you may get some one else, " Maggiesnapped back. 

"Aw, don't get sore. If I'm stage-managing this show, I guess it's mybusiness to tell you how to act the part, and to tell you when you'reendangering the success of the piece by giving a poor performance. "

"Maybe you'd better get some one else to take my part right now. "

Maggie's tone and look were implacable. Barney moved uneasily. That wasthe worst about Maggie: she wouldn't take advice from any one unless theadvice were a coincidence with or an enlargement of her own wishes, andshe was particularly temperish to-night. He hastened to appease her. 

"I guess the best of us have our off days. It's all rightunless"--Barney hesitated, business fear and jealousy suddenly seizinghim--"unless the way you acted tonight means you don't intend to gothrough with it?"

"Why shouldn't I go through with it?"

"No reason. Unless you acted as you did to-night because"--again Barneyhesitated; again jealousy prompted him on--"because you've heard in someway from Larry Brainard. Have you heard from Larry?"

Maggie met his gaze without flinching. She would take the necessarymeasures in the morning with Miss Grierson to keep that lady fromindiscreet talking. 

"I have not heard from Larry, and if I had, it wouldn't be any of yourbusiness, Barney Palmer!"

He chose to ignore the verbal slap in his face of her last phrase. "No, I guess you haven't heard from Larry. And I guess none of us will hearfrom him--not for a long time. He's certainly fixed himself for fair!"

"He sure has, " agreed Old Jimmie. 

Maggie said nothing. 

"Seems to me we've got this young Sherwood hooked, " said Old Jimmie, whohad been impatient during this unprofitable bickering. "Seems to meit's time to settle just how we're going to get his dough. How about it, Barney?"

"Plenty of time for that, Jimmie. This is a big fish, and we've got tobe absolutely sure we've got him hooked so he can't get off. We've gotto play safe here; it's worth waiting for, believe me. Besides, all thewhile Maggie's getting practice. "

"Seems to me we ought to make our clean-up quick. So that--so that--"

"See here--you think you got some other swell game you want to useMaggie in?"

Old Jimmie's shifty gaze wavered before Barney's glare. 

"No. But she's my daughter, ain't she?"

"Yes. But who's running this?" Barney demanded. Thank Heavens, OldJimmie was one person he did not have to treat like a prima donna!

"You are. "

"Then shut up, and let me run it!"

"You might at least tell if you've decided how you're going to run it, "persisted Old Jimmie. 

"Will you shut up!" snapped Barney. 

Old Jimmie said no more. And having asserted his supremacy over at leastone of the two, Barney relented and condescended to talk, lounging backin his chair with that self-conscious grace which had helped make him afigure of increasing note in the gayer restaurants of New York. 

It did not enter into Barney's calculations, present or for the future, to make Maggie the mistress of any man. Not that Barney was restrainedby moral considerations. The thing was just bad business. Such a womanmakes but comparatively little; and what is worse, if she chooses, shemakes it all for herself. And Barney, in his cynical wisdom of his poorworld, further knew that the average man enticed into this poor trap, after the woman has said yes, and after the first brief freshness haslost its bloom, becomes a tight-wad and there is little real money to begot from him for any one. 

"It's like this: once we've got this Sherwood bird safely hooked, "expanded Barney with the air of an authority, flicking off his cigaretteash with his best restaurant manner, "we can play the game a hundredways. But the marriage proposition is the best bet, and there are twobest ways of working that. "

"Which d'you think we ought to use, Barney?" inquired Old Jimmie. 

But Barney went on as if the older man had not asked a question. "Bothways depend upon Sherwood being crazy in love, and upon his comingacross with a proposal and sticking to it. The first way, after beingproposed to, Maggie must break down and confess she's married to a manshe doesn't love and who doesn't love her. This husband would probablygive her a divorce, but he's a cagy guy and is out for the coin, andif he smelled that she wanted to remarry some one with money he woulddemand a large price for her freedom. Maggie must further confess thatshe really has no money, and is therefore helpless. Then Sherwood offersto meet the terms of this brute of a husband. If Sherwood falls for thiswe shove in a dummy husband who takes Sherwood's dough--and a bigbank roll it will be!--and that'll be the last Sherwood'll ever see ofMaggie. "

Old Jimmie nodded. "When it's worked right, that always brings home thekale. "

"The only question is, " continued Barney, "can Maggie put that stuffover? How about it, Maggie? Think you're good enough to handle aproposition like that?"

Looking the handsome Barney straight in the eyes, Maggie for the momentthought only of his desire to manage her and of the challenge in histone. Larry and the appeal he had made to her were forgotten, as wasalso Dick Sherwood. 

"Anything you're good enough to think up, Barney Palmer, I guess I'mgood enough to put over, " she answered coolly. 

And then: "What's the other way?" she asked. 

"Old stuff. Have to be a sure-enough marriage. Sherwoods are big-timepeople, you know; a sister who's a regular somebody. After marriage, family permitted to learn truth--perhaps something much worsethan truth. Family horrified. They pay Maggie a big wad fora separation--same as so many horrified families get rid ofdaughters-in-law they don't like. Which of the ways suits you best, Maggie?"

Maggie shrugged her shoulders with indifference. It suited her presentmood to maintain her attitude of being equal to any enterprise. 

"Which do you like best, Barney?" Old Jimmie asked. 

"The second is safer. But then it's slower; and there would be lawyers'fees which would eat into our profits; and then because of the publicitywe might have to wait some time before it would be safe to use Maggieagain. The first plan isn't so complicated, it's quick, and at oncewe've got Maggie free to use in other operations. The first looks thebest bet to me--but, as I said, we don't have to decide yet. We can letdevelopments help make the actual decision for us. "

Barney did not add that a further reason for his objecting to the secondplan was that he didn't want Maggie actually tied in marriage to anyman. That was a relationship his hopes were reserving for himself. 

Barney's inborn desire for acknowledged chieftainship again cravedassertion and pressed him on to say:

"You see, Maggie, how much depends on you. You've got a whale of achance for a beginner. I hope you take a big brace over to-night andplay up to the possibilities of your part. "

"You take care of your end, and I'll take care of mine!" was her sharpretort. 

Barney was flustered for a moment by his second failure to dominateMaggie. "Oh, well, we'll not row, " he tried to say easily. "Weunderstand each other, and we're each trying to help the other fellow'sgame--that's the main point. "

The two men left, Jimmie without kissing his daughter good-night. Thiscaused Maggie no surprise. A kiss, not the lack of it, would have beenthe thing that would have excited wonder in Maggie. 

Barney went away well satisfied on the whole with the manner in whichthe affair was progressing, and with his management of it and of Maggie. Maggie was obstinate, to be sure; but he'd soon work that out of her. Hewas now fully convinced of the soundness of his explanation of Maggie'spoor performance of that night: she had just had an off day. 

As for Maggie, after they had gone she sat up long, thinking--andher thoughts reverted irresistibly to Larry. His visit had been mostdistracting. But she was not going to let it affect her purpose. Ifanything, she was more determined than ever to be what she had told himshe was going to be, to prove to him that he could not influence her. 

She tried to keep her mind off Larry, but she could not. He was for herso many questions. How had he escaped?--thrown off both police and oldfriends? Where was he now? What was he doing? And when and how was hegoing to reappear and interfere?--for Maggie had no doubt, now that sheknew him to be in New York, that he would come again; and again try tocheck her. 

And there was a matter which she no more understood than Larry, and thiswas another of her questions: Why had she gone into a panic and aidedhis escape?

Of course, she now and then thought of Dick Sherwood. She rather likedDick. But thus far she regarded him exactly as her scheme of life hadpresented him to her: as a pleasant dupe who, in an exciting play inwhich she had the thrilling lead, was to be parted from his money. Shewas rather sorry for him; but this was business, and her sorrow was notgoing to interfere with what she was going to do. 

Maggie Cameron, at this period of her life, was not deeplyintrospective. She did not realize what, according to other standards, this thing was which she was doing. She was merely functioning as shehad been taught to function. And if any change was beginning in her, shewas thus far wholly unconscious of it. 

CHAPTER XX

Larry's new problem was the most difficult and delicate dilemma of hislife--this divided loyalty: to balk Maggie and the two men behindher without revealing the truth about Maggie to Dick, to protect Dickwithout betraying Maggie. It certainly was a trying, baffling situation. 

He had no such foolish idea that he could change Maggie by exposingher. At best he would merely render her incapable of continuing thisparticular course; he would increase her bitterness and hostility tohim. Anyhow, according to the remnants of his old code, that wouldn't beplaying fair--particularly after her aiding his escape when he had beentrapped. 

Upon only one point was he clear, and on this he became more settledwith every hour: whatever he did he must do with the idea of afundamental awakening in Maggie. Merely to foil her in this one schemewould be to solve the lesser part of his problem; Maggie would be leftunchanged, or if changed at all the change would be toward a greaterhardness, and his major problem would be made more difficult ofsolution. 

He considered many ways. He thought of seeing Maggie again, and oncemore appealing to her. That he vetoed, not because of the danger tohimself, but because he knew Maggie would not see him; and if he againdid break in upon her unexpectedly, in her obstinate pride she wouldheed nothing he said. He thought of seeing Barney and Old Jimmie andsomehow so throwing the fear of God into that pair that they wouldwithdraw Maggie from the present enterprise; but even if he succeededin so hazardous an undertaking, again Maggie would be left unchanged. He thought of showing Miss Sherwood the hidden portrait of Maggie, oftelling her all and asking her aid; but this he also vetoed, for itseemed a betrayal of Maggie. 

He kept going back to one plan: not a plan exactly, but the idea uponwhich the right plan might be based. If only he could adroitly, with hishand remaining unseen, place Maggie in a situation where circumstanceswould appeal conqueringly to her best self, to her latent sense ofhonor--that was the idea! But cudgel his brain as he would, Larry couldnot just then develop a working plan whose foundation was that idea. 

But even if Larry had had a brilliant plan it would hardly have beenpossible for him to have devoted himself to its execution, for two daysafter his visit to Maggie at the Grantham, the Sherwoods moved out totheir summer place some forty miles from the city on the North Shore ofLong Island; and Larry was so occupied with routine duties pertainingto this migration that at the moment he had time for little else. CedarCrest was individual yet typical of the better class of Long Islandsummer residences. It was a long white building of many piazzas and manywings, set on a bluff looking over the Sound, with a broad stretch ofsilken lawn, and about it gardens in their June glory, and behind thehouse a couple of hundred acres of scrub pine. 

On the following day, according to a plan that had been worked outbetween Larry and Miss Sherwood, Joe Ellison appeared at Cedar Crestand was given the assistant gardener's cottage which stood apart onthe bluff some three hundred yards east of the house. He was a tall, slightly bent, white-haired man, apparently once a man of physicalstrength and dominance of character and with the outer markings of agentleman, but now seemingly a mere shadow of the forceful man of hisprime. As a matter of fact, Joe Ellison had barely escaped that greatestof prison scourges, tuberculosis. 

The roses were given over to his care. For a few brief years during theheight of his prosperity he had owned a small place in New Jersey andduring that period had seemingly been the country gentleman. Flowers hadbeen his hobby; so that now he could have had no work which would havemore suited him than this guardianship of the roses. For himself hedesired no better thing than to spend what remained of his life in thissunlit privacy and communion with growing things. 

He gripped Larry's hand when they were first alone in the littlecottage. "Thanks, Larry; I'll not forget this, " he said. He said littleelse. He did not refer to his prison life, or what had gone before it. He had never asked Larry, even while in prison together, about Larry'sprevious activities and associates; and he asked no questions now. Apparently it was the desire of this silent man to have the bones of hisown past remain buried, and to leave undisturbed the graves of others'mistakes. 

A retiring, unobtrusive figure, he settled quickly to his work. Heseemed content, even happy; and at times there was a far-away, exultantlook in his gray eyes. Miss Sherwood caught this on several occasions;it puzzled her, and she spoke of it to Larry. Larry understood what laybehind Joe's bearing, and since the thing had never been told to him asa secret he retold that portion of Joe's history he had recited to theDuchess: of a child who had been brought up among honorable people, protected from the knowledge that her father was a convict--a child Joenever expected to see and did not even know how to find. 

Joe Ellison became a figure that moved Miss Sherwood deeply: content tobusy himself in his earthly obscurity, ever dreaming and gloating overhis one great sustaining thought--that he had given his child the bestchance which circumstances permitted; that he had removed himself fromhis child's life; that some unknown where out in the world his childwas growing to maturity among clean, wholesome people; that he neverexpected to make himself known to his child. The situation also movedLarry profoundly whenever he looked at his old friend, merging into akindly fellowship with the earth. 

But while busy with new affairs at Cedar Crest, Larry was all the whilethinking of Maggie, and particularly of his own dilemma regarding Maggieand Dick. But the right plan still refused to take form in his brain. However, one important detail occurred to him which required immediateattention. If his procedure in regard to Hunt's pictures succeeded indrawing the painter from his hermitage, nothing was more likely thanthat Hunt unexpectedly would happen upon Maggie in the company of DickSherwood. That might be a catastrophe to Larry's unformed plan; it hadto be forestalled if possible. Such a matter could not be handled in aletter, with the police opening all mail coming to the Duchess's house. So once more he decided upon a secret visit to the Duchess's house. Hefigured that such a visit would be comparatively without risk, since thepolice and Barney Palmer and the gangsters Barney had put upon his trailall still believed him somewhere in the West. 

Accordingly, a few nights after they had settled at Cedar Crest, hemotored into New York in a roadster Miss Sherwood had placed at hisdisposal, and after the necessary precautions he entered Hunt's studio. The room was dismantled, and Hunt sat among his packed belongingssmoking his pipe. 

"Well, young fellow, " growled Hunt after they had shaken hands, "you seeyou've driven me from my happy home. "

"Then Mr. Graham has been to see you?"

"Yes. And he put up to me your suggestion about a private exhibition. And I fell for it. And I've got to go back among the people I usedto know. And wear good clothes and put on a set of standardized goodmanners. Hell!"

"You don't like it?"

"I suppose, if the exhibition is a go, I'll like grinning at the bunchthat thought I couldn't paint. You bet I'll like that! You, youngfellow--I suppose you're here to gloat over me and to try to collectyour five thousand. "

"I never gloat over doing such an easy job as that was. And I'm not hereto collect my bet. As far as money is concerned, I'm here to give yousome. " And he handed Hunt the check made out to "cash" which Mr. Grahamhad sent him for the Italian mother. 

"Better keep that on account of what I owe you, " advised Hunt. 

"I'd rather you'd hold it for me. And better still, I'd rather call thebet off in favor of a new bargain. "

"What's the new proposition for swindling me?"

"You need a business nursemaid. What commission do you pay dealers?"

"Been paying those burglars forty per cent. "

"That's too much for doing nothing. Here's my proposition. Give me tenper cent to act as your personal agent, and I'll guarantee that yourtotal percentage for commissions will be less than at present, and thatyour prices will be doubled. Of course I can't do much while the policeand others are so darned interested in me, so if you accept we'll justdate the agreement from the time I'm cleared. "

"You're on, son--and we'll just date the agreement from the presentmoment, A. D. " Again Hunt gripped Larry's hand. "You're all to the good, Larry--and I'm not giving you half enough. "

That provided Larry with the opening he had desired. "You can make it upto me. "

"How?"

"By helping me out with a proposition of my own. To come straight to thepoint, it's Maggie. "

"Maggie?"

"I guess you know how I feel there. She's got a wrong set of ideas, andshe's fixed in them--and you know how high-spirited she is. She's out inthe world now, trying to put something crooked over which she thinks isbig. I know what it is. I want to stop her, and change her. That's mybig aim--to change her. The only way I can at this moment stop whatshe is now doing is by exposing her. And mighty few people with a wrongtwist are ever set right by merely being exposed. "

"I guess you're right there, Larry. "

"What I want is a chance to try another method on Maggie. If she'shandled right I think she may turn out a very different person from whatshe seems to be--something that may surprise both of us. "

Hunt nodded. "That was why I painted her picture. Since I first saw herI've been interested in how she was going to come out. She might becomeanything. But where do I fit in?"

"She's flying in high company. It occurred to me that, when you got backto your own world, you might meet her, and in your surprise you mightspeak to her in a manner which would be equivalent in its effect to anintentional exposure. I wanted to put you on your guard and to ask youto treat her as a stranger. "

"That's promised. I won't know her. "

"Don't promise till you know the rest. "

"What else is there to know?"

"Who the sucker is they're trying to trim. " Larry regarded the othersteadily. "You know him. He's Dick Sherwood. "

"Dick Sherwood!" exploded Hunt. "Are you sure about that?"

"I was with Maggie the other night when Dick came to have supper withher; he didn't see me. Besides, Dick has told me about her. "

"How did they ever get hold of Dick?"

"Dick's the easiest kind of fish for two such smooth men as Barney andOld Jimmie when they've got a clever, good-looking girl as bait, andwhen they know how to use her. He's generous, easily impressed, thinkshe is a wise man of the world and is really very gullible. "

"Have they got him hooked?"

"Hard and fast. It won't be his fault if they don't land him. "

The painter gazed at Larry with a hard look. Then he demanded abruptly:

"Show Miss Sherwood that picture of Maggie I painted?"

"No. I had my reasons. "

"What you going to do with it?"

"Keep it, and pay you your top price for it when I've got the money. "

"H'm! Told Miss Sherwood what's doing about Dick?"

"No. "

"Why not?"

"I thought of doing it, then I decided against it. For the same reasonI just gave you--that it might lead to exposure, and that exposure woulddefeat my plans. "

"You seem to be forgetting that your plan leaves Dick in danger. Dickdeserves some consideration. "

"And I'm giving it to him, " argued Larry. "I'm thinking of him as muchas of Maggie. Or almost as much. His sister and friends have pulled himout of a lot of scrapes. He's not a bit wiser or better for that kindof help. And it's not going to do him any good whatever to have some onestep in and take care of him again. He's been a good friend to me, buthe's a dear fool. I want to handle this so he'll get a jolt that willwaken him up--make him take his responsibilities more seriously--makehim able to take care of himself. "

"Huh!" grunted Hunt. "You've certainly picked out a few man-sized jobsfor yourself: to make a success of the straight life for yourself--tocome out ahead of the police and your old pals--to make Maggie love theTen Commandments--to put me across--to make Dick into a level-headedcitizen. Any other little item you'd like to take on?"

Larry ignored the irony of the question. "Some of those things I'm goingto do, " he said confidently. "And any I see I'm going to fail in, I'llget warning to the people involved. But to come back to your promise:are you willing to give your promise now that you know all the facts?"

Hunt pulled for a long moment at his pipe. Then he said almost gruffly:

"I guess you've guessed that Isabel Sherwood is about the most importantperson in the world to me?"

That was the nearest Hunt had ever come to telling that he loved MissSherwood. Larry nodded. 

"I'm in bad there already. Suppose your foot slips and everything aboutDick goes wrong. What'll be my situation when she learns I've known allalong and have just stood by quietly and let things happen? See whatI'll be letting myself in for?"

"I do, " said Larry, his spirits sinking. "And of course I can understandyour decision not to give your promise. "

"Who said I wouldn't give my promise?" demanded Hunt. "Of course Igive my promise! All I said was that the weather bureau of my bad toepredicts that there's likely to be a storm because of this--and I wantyou to use your brain, son, I want you to use your brain!"

He upreared his big, shag-haired figure and gripped Larry's hand. "You're all right, Larry--and here's wishing you luck! Now get to hellout of here before Gavegan and Casey drop in for a cup of tea, or yourold friends begin target practice with their hip artillery. I want alittle quiet in which to finish my packing. 

"And say, son, " he added, as he pushed Larry through the door, "don'tfall dead at the sight of me when you see me next, for I'm likely to bewalking around inside all the finery and vanity of Fifth Avenue. "

CHAPTER XXI

Larry came down the stairway from Hunt's studio in a mood of highelation. Through Hunt's promise of cooperation he had at least made astart in his unformed plan regarding Maggie. Somehow, he'd work out andput across the rest of it. 

Then Hunt's prediction of the trouble that might rise throughhis silence recurred to Larry. Indeed, that was a delicatesituation!--containing all kinds of possible disasters for himself aswell as for Hunt. He would have to be most watchful, most careful, or hewould find himself entangled in worse circumstances than at present. 

As he came down into the little back room, his grandmother was sittingover her interminable accounts, each of which represented a littleprofit to herself, some a little relief to many, some a tragedy to afew; and many of which were in code, for these represented transactionsof a character which no pawnshop, particularly one reputed to be afence, wishes ever to have understood by those presumptive busy-bodies, the police. When Larry had first entered, she had merely given him anunsurprised "good-evening" and permitted him to pass on. But now, ashe told her good-night and turned to leave, she said in her thin, monotonous voice:

"Sit down for a minute, Larry. I want to talk to you. "

Larry obeyed. "Yes, grandmother. "

But the Duchess did not at once speak. She held her red-rimmed, unblinking eyes on him steadily. Larry waited patiently. Though she wasso composed, so self-contained, Larry knew her well enough to know thatwhat was passing in her mind was something of deep importance, at leastto her. 

At length she spoke. "You saw Maggie that night you hurried away fromhere?"

"Yes, grandmother. Have you heard from her since the?--or from Barney orOld Jimmie?"

The Duchess shook her head. "Do you mind telling me what happened thatnight--and what Maggie's doing?"

Larry told her of the scene in Maggie's suite at the Grantham, told ofthe plan in which Maggie was involved and of his own added predicament. This last the Duchess seemingly ignored. 

"Just about what I supposed she was doing, " she said. "And you triedagain to get her to give it up?"

"Yes. "

"And she refused?"

"Yes. " And he added: "Refused more emphatically than before. "

The Duchess studied him a long moment. Then: "You're not trying to makeher give that up just because you think she's worth saving. You like hera lot, Larry?"

"I love her, " Larry admitted. 

"I'm sorry about that, Larry. " There was real emotion in the old voicenow. "I've told you that you're all I've got left. And now thatyou've at last started right, I want everything to go right with you. Everything! And Maggie will never help things go right with you. Yourlove for her can only mean misery and misfortune. You can't change her. "

Larry came out with the questions he had asked himself so frequentlythese last days. "But why did her manner change so when she heard Barneyand the others? Why did she help me escape?"

"That was because, deep down, she really loves you. That's the worstpart of it: you both love each other. " The Duchess slowly nodded herhead. "You both love each other. If it wasn't for that I wouldn't carewhat you tried to do. But I tell you again you can't change her. She'stoo sure of herself. She'll always try to make you go _her way_--and ifyou don't, you'll never get a smile from her. And because you love eachother, I'm afraid you'll give in and go her way. That's what I'm afraidof. Won't you just cut her out of your life, Larry?"

It had been a prodigiously long speech for the Duchess. And Larryrealized that the emotion behind it was a thousand times what showed inthe thin voice of the bent, gestureless figure. 

"For your sake I'm sorry, grandmother. But I can't. "

"Then it's only fair to tell you, Larry, " she said in a more composedtone which expressed a finality of decision, "that if there's everanything I can do to stop this, I'll do it. For she's bad for you--whatwith her stiff spirit--and the ideas Old Jimmie has put into her--andthe way Old Jimmie has brought her up. I'll stop things if I can. "

Larry made no reply. The Duchess continued looking at him steadily fora long space. He knew she was thinking; and he was wondering what waspassing through that shrewd old brain, when she remarked:

"By the way, Larry, I just remembered what you told me of that old SingSing friend--Joe Ellison. Have you heard from him recently?"

"He's out, and he's working where I am. "

"Yes? What's he doing?"

"He's working there as a gardener. "

Again she was silent a space, her sunken eyes steady With thought. Thenshe said:

"From the time he was twenty till he was thirty I knew Joe Ellisonwell--better than I've ever told you. He knew your mother when she wasa girl, Larry. I wish you'd ask him to come in to see me. As soon as hecan manage it. "

Larry promised. His grandmother said no more about Maggie, and presentlyLarry bade her good-night and made his cautious way, ever on the lookoutfor danger, to where he had left his roadster, and thence safely out toCedar Crest. But the Duchess sat for hours exactly as he had left her, her accounts unheeded, thinking, thinking, thinking over an utterlyimpossible possibility that had first presented itself faintly to herseveral days before. She did not see how the thing could be; and yetsomehow it might be, for many a strange thing did happen in this borderworld where for so long she had lived. When finally she went to bed sheslept little; her busy conjectures would not permit sleep. And thoughthe next day she went about her shop seemingly as usual, she was stillthinking. 

That night Joe Ellison came. They met as though they had last seen eachother but yesterday. 

"Good-evening, Joe. "

"Glad to see you, Duchess. "

She held out to him a box of the best cigars, which she had boughtagainst his coming, for she had remembered Joe Ellison's once fastidioustaste regarding tobacco. He lit one, and they fell into the easy silenceof old friends, taking up their friendship exactly where it had beenbroken off. As a matter of fact, Joe Ellison might have been herson-in-law but for her own firm attitude. He had known her daughter verymuch better than her words to Larry the previous evening had indicated. Not only had Joe known her while a girl down here, but much later hehad learned in what convent she was going to school and there had beensurreptitious love-making despite convent rules and boundaries--till theDuchess had learned what was going on. She had had a square out-and-outtalk with Joe; the romance had suddenly ended; and later Larry'smother had married elsewhere. But the snuffed-out romance had madeno difference in the friendship between the Duchess and Joe; each hadrecognized the other as square, as that word was understood in theirborder world. 

To Joe Ellison the Duchess was changed but little since twenty-odd yearsago. She had seemed old even then; though as a youth he had known oldmen who had talked of her beauty when a young woman and of how shehad queened it among the reckless spirits of that far time. But to theDuchess the change in Joe Ellison was astounding. She had last seenhim in his middle thirties: black-haired, handsome, careful of dress, powerful of physique, dominant, fiery-tempered, fearless of any livingthing, but with these hot qualities checked into a surface appearance ofunruffled equanimity by his self-control and his habitual reticence. Andnow to see him thin, white-haired, bent, his old fire seemingly burnedto gray ashes--the Duchess, who had seen much in her generations, wasalmost appalled at the transformation. 

At first the Duchess skillfully guided the talk among commonplaces. 

"Larry tells me you're out with him. "

"Yes, " said Joe. "Larry's been a mighty good pal. "

"What're you going to do when you get back your strength?"

"The same as I'm doing now--if they'll let me. "

And after a pause: "Perhaps later, if I had the necessary capital, I'dlike to start a little nursery. Or else grow flowers for the market. "

"Not going back to the old thing, then?"

Joe shook his white head. "I'm all through there. Flowers are a moreinteresting proposition. "

"Whenever you get ready to start, Joe, you can have all the capitalyou want from me. And it will cost you nothing. Or if you'd rather pay, it'll cost you the same as at a bank--six per cent. "

"Thanks. I'll remember. " Joe Ellison could not have spoken his gratitudemore strongly. 

The Duchess now carefully guided the talk in the direction of the thingof which she had thought so constantly. 

"By the way, Joe, Larry told me something about you I'd never heardbefore--that you had been married, and had a child. "

"Yes. You didn't hear because I wasn't telling anybody about it when ithappened, and it never came out. "

"Mind telling me about it, Joe?"

He pulled at his perfecto while assembling his facts; and then hemade one of the longest speeches Joe Ellison--"Silent Joe" some of hisfriends had called him in the old days--was ever known to utter. Butthere was reason for its length; it was an epitome of the most importantperiod of his life. 

"I had a nice little country place over in Jersey for three or fouryears. It all happened there. No one knew me for what I was; theytook me for what I pretended to be, a small capitalist whose interestsrequired his taking occasional trips. Nice neighbors. That's where I metmy wife. She was fine every way. That's why I kept all that part ofmy life from my pals; I was afraid they might leak and the truth wouldspoil everything. My wife was an orphan, niece of the widow of a brokerwho lived out there. She never knew the truth about me. She died whenthe baby was born. When the baby was a year and a half my big smashcame, and I went up the river. But I was never connected up with the manwho lived over in Jersey and who suddenly cancelled his lease and movedaway. "

The Duchess drew nearer to the heart of her thoughts. 

"Was the baby a boy or girl, Joe?"

"Girl. "

The Duchess did not so much as blink. "How old would she be by thistime?"

"Eighteen. "

"What was her name?"

"Mary--after her mother. But of course I ordered it to be changed. Idon't know what her name is now. "

The Duchess pressed closer. 

"What became of her, Joe?"

A glow began to come into the somber eyes of Joe Ellison. "I told youher mother was a fine woman, and she never knew anything bad about me. Iwanted my girl to grow up like her mother. I wanted her to have as gooda chance as any of those nice girls over in Jersey--I wanted her neverto know any of the lot I've known--I wanted her never to have the stainof knowing her father was a crook--I wanted her never to know even whoher father was. "

"How did you manage it?"

"Her mother had left a little fortune, about twenty-fivethousand--twelve or fifteen hundred a year. I turned the money and thegirl over to my best pal--and the squarest pal a man ever had--the onlyone I'd let know about my Jersey life. I told him what to do. She was anawfully bright little thing; at a year and a half, when I saw her last, she was already talking. She was to be brought up among nice, simplepeople--go to a good school--grow up to be a nice, simple girl. Andespecially never to know anything about me. She was to believe herselfan orphan. And my pal did just as I ordered. He wrote me how she wasgetting on till about four years ago, then I had news that he was deadand that the trust fund had been transferred to a firm of lawyers, though I wasn't given the name of the lawyers. That doesn't make anydifference since she's getting the money just the same. "

"What was your pal's name, Joe?"

"Jimmie Carlisle. "

The Duchess had been certain what this name would be, but neverthelessshe could not repress a start. 

"What's the matter?" Joe asked sharply. "Did you know him?"

"Not in those days, " said the Duchess, recovering her even tone. "ThoughI got to know him later. By the way, " she added casually, "did JimmieCarlisle have any children of his own?"

"Not before I went away. He wasn't even married. "

There was now no slightest doubt left in the Duchess's mind. Maggie wasreally Joe Ellison's daughter. 

Joe Ellison went on, the glow of his sunken eyes becoming yet moreexalted. He was almost voicing his thoughts to himself alone, forhis friendship with the Duchess was so old that her presence was noinhibition. His low words were almost identical in substance with whatLarry had told--a summary of what had come to be his one great hope anddream, the nearest thing he had to a religion. 

"Somewhere, in a nice place, my girl is now growing up like her mother. Clean of everything I was and I knew. She must be practically a womannow. I don't know where she is--there's now no way for me to learn. And I don't want to know. And I don't want her ever to know about me. I don't ever want to be the cause of making her feel disgraced, or ofdragging her down from among the people where she belongs. "

The Duchess gave no visible sign of emotion, but her ancientheart-strings were set vibrating by that tense, low-pitched voice. Shehad a momentary impulse to tell him the truth. But just then the Duchesswas a confusion of many conflicting impulses, and the balance of theirstrength was for the moment against telling. So she said nothing. 

Their talk drifted back to commonplaces, and presently Joe Ellisonwent away. The Duchess sat motionless at her desk, againthinking--thinking--thinking; and when Joe Ellison was back in hisgardener's cottage at Cedar Crest and was happily asleep, she still satwhere he had left her. During her generations of looking upon life fromthe inside, she had seen the truth of many strange situations of whichthe world had learned only the wildest rumors or the most respectableversions; but during the long night hours, perhaps because the affairtouched her so closely, this seemed to her the strangest situation shehad ever known. A father believing with the firm belief of establishedcertainty that his daughter had been brought up free from all taint ofhis own life, carefully bred among the best of people. In reality thegirl brought up in a criminal atmosphere, with criminal ideas implantedin her as normal ideas, and carefully trained in criminal ways andambitions. And neither father nor daughter having a guess of the truth. 

Indeed it was a strange situation! A situation charged with all kinds ofunforeseeable results. 

The Duchess now understood the unfatherly disregard Old Jimmie had shownfor the ordinary welfare of Maggie. Not being her father, he had notcared. Superficially, at least, Jimmie Carlisle must have been a muchmore plausible individual twenty years earlier, to have won the implicittrust of Joe Ellison and to have become his foremost friend. Sheunderstood one reason why Old Jimmie had always boarded Maggie inthe cheapest and lowest places; his hidden cupidity had thereby beenpocketing about a thousand dollars a year of trust money for oversixteen years. 

But there was one queer problem here to which the Duchess could not atthis time see the answer. If Jimmie Carlisle had wished to gratify hiscupidity and double-cross his friend, why had he not at the very startplaced Maggie in an orphanage where she would have been neither chargenor cost to him, and thus have had the use of every penny of the trustfund? Why had he chosen to keep her by him, and train her carefully tobe exactly what her father had most wished her not to be? There musthave been some motive in the furtive, tortuous mind of Old Jimmie, thatnow would perhaps forever remain a mystery. 

Of course she saw, or thought she saw, the reason for the report of OldJimmie's death to Joe Ellison. That report had been sent to escape anaccounting. 

As she sat through the night hours the Duchess for the first time feltwarmth creep over her for Maggie. She saw Maggie in the light of avictim. If Maggie had been brought up as her father had planned, shemight now be much the girl her father dreamed her. But Old Jimmie hadentered the scheme of things. Yes, the audacious, willful, confidentMaggie, bent on conquering the world in the way Old Jimmie and laterBarney Palmer had taught her, was really just a poor misguided victimwho should have had a far different fate. 

And now the Duchess came to one of the greatest problems of her life. What should she do? Considering the facts that Joe Ellison wished thelife of a recluse and desired to avoid all talk of the old days, thechances were that he would never happen upon the real state of affairs. Only she and Old Jimmie knew the essentials of the situation--and verylikely Jimmie did not yet know that the friend who had once trusted himwas now a free man. She felt as though she held in her hands the stringsof destiny. Should she tell the truth?

She pondered long. All her considerations were given weight according towhat she saw as their possible effect upon Larry; for Larry was the oneperson left whom she loved, and on him were fixed the aspirations ofthese her final years. Therefore her thoughts and arguments were myopic, almost necessarily specious. She wanted to see justice done, of course. But most of all she wanted what was best for Larry. If she told thetruth, it might result in some kind of temporary breakdown in Maggie'sattitude which would bring her and Larry together. That would bedisastrous. If not disastrous at once, certainly in the end. Maggie wasa victim, and undoubtedly deserved sympathy. But others should not besacrificed merely because Maggie had suffered an injury. She had beentoo long under the tutelage of Old Jimmie, and his teachings werenow too thoroughly the fiber of her very being, for her to alterpermanently. She might change temporarily under the urge of an emotionalrevelation; but she would surely revert to her present self. There wasno doubt of that. 

And the Duchess gave weight to other considerations--all human, yet allin some measure specious. Joe Ellison was happy in his dream, and wouldbe happy in it all the rest of his life. Why tell the truth and destroyhis precious illusion?--especially when there was no chance to changeMaggie?

And further, she recalled the terrific temper that had lived within thecomposed demeanor of Joe Ellison. The fires of that temper could not yetbe all burned out. If she told the truth, told that Jimmie Carlisle wasstill alive, that might be just touching the trigger of a devastatingtragedy--might be disaster for all. What would be the use when no onewould have been benefited?

And so, in the wisdom of her old head and the entanglements of her oldheart, the Duchess decided she would never tell. And that loving, humandecision she was to cling to through the stress of times to come. 

But even while she was thus deciding upon a measure to checkmate themboth, Larry was pacing his room at Cedar Crest, at last excitedlyevolving the elusive plan which was to bring Maggie to her senses andalso to him; and Maggie, all unconscious of this new element which hadentered as a potential factor in her existence, all unconscious of howfar she had been guided from the course which had been charted forher, was lying awake at the Grantham after a late party at which DickSherwood had been her escort, and was exulting pridefully over theseemingly near consummation of the plan that was to show Larry Brainardhow wrong he was and that was to establish her as the cleverest woman inher line--better even than Barney or Old Jimmie believed her. 

And thus separate wills each strove to direct their own lives and otherlives according to their own separate plans; little thinking to whatextent they were all entangled in a common destiny; and thinking not atall of the further seed that was being sown for the harvest-time of thewhirlwind. 

CHAPTER XXII

After Larry's many days and nights of futile searching of his brain fora plan that would accord with his fundamental idea for awakening theunguessed other self of Maggie, the plan, which finally came to himcomplete in all its details in a single moment, was so simple andobvious that he marveled it could have been plainly before his eyes allthis while without his ever seeing it. Of course the plan was dangerousand of doubtful issue. It had to be so, because it involved thereactions of strong-tempered persons as yet unacquainted who wouldhave no foreknowledge of the design behind their new relationship; andbecause its success or failure, which might also mean his own completefailure, the complete loss of all he had thus far gained, dependedlargely upon the twist of events which he could not foresee andtherefore could not guide. 

Briefly, his plan was so to manage as to have Maggie received inthe Sherwood household as a guest, to have her receive the frank, unquestioning hospitality (and perhaps friendship) of such a gracious, highly placed, unpretentious woman as Miss Sherwood, so distinctly anative of, and not an immigrant to, the great world. To be received asa friend by those against whom she plotted, to have the generous, unsuspecting friendship of Miss Sherwood--if anything just then had achance to open the blinded Maggie's eyes to the evil and error of whatshe was engaged upon, if anything had a chance to appeal to the finerthings he believed to exist unrecognized or suppressed in Maggie, thiswas that thing. 

And best part of this plan, its effect would be only within Maggie'sself. No one need know that anything had happened. There would be noexposure, no humiliation. 

Of course there was the great question of how to get Miss Sherwood toinvite Maggie; and whether indeed Miss Sherwood would invite her atall. And there was the further question, the invitation being sent, ofwhether Maggie would accept. 

Larry decided to manipulate his design through Dick Sherwood. Late thatafternoon, when Dick, just returned from the city, dropped into, as washis before-dinner custom, the office-study which had been set aside forLarry's use, Larry, after an adroit approach to his subject, continued:

"And since I've been wished on you as a sort of step-uncle, there'ssomething I'd like to suggest--if I don't seem to be fairly jimmying myway into your affairs. "

"Door's unlocked and wide open, Captain, " said Dick. "Walk right in andtake the best chair. "

"Thanks. Remember telling me about a young woman you recently met? AMiss Maggie--Maggie--"

"Miss Cameron, " Dick prompted. "Of course I remember. "

"And remember your telling me that this time it's the real thing?"

"And it IS the real thing!"

"You haven't--excuse me--asked her to marry you yet?"

"No. I've been trying to get up my nerve. "

"Here's where you've got to excuse me once more, Dick--it's not mybusiness to tell you what should be your relations with your family--buthave you told your sister?"

"No. " Dick hesitated. "I suppose I should. But I hadn't thought ofit--yet. You see--" Again Dick hesitated. 

"Yes?" prompted Larry. 

"There are her relatives--that cousin and uncle. I guess it musthave been my thinking of them that prevented my thinking of what yousuggest. "

"But you told me they hadn't interfered much, and never wouldinterfere. " Larry gently pressed his point: "And look at it from MissCameron's angle of view. If it's the real thing, and you're behavingthat way toward her, hasn't she good grounds for thinking it strangethat you haven't introduced her to your family?"

"By George, you're right, Captain! I'll see to that at once. "

"Of course, Dick, " Larry went on, carefully feeling his way, "you knowmuch better than I the proper way to do such things--but don't you thinkit would be rather nice, when you tell your sister, that you suggest toher that she invite Miss Cameron out here for a little visit? If theyare to meet, I know Miss Cameron, or any girl, would take it as more ofa tribute to be received in your own home than merely to meet in a bigcommonplace hotel. "

"Right again, Captain! I'd tell Isabel to-night, and ask her to send theinvitation--only I'm booked to scoot right back to the city for a littleparty as soon as I get some things together, and I'll stay overnight inthe apartment. But I'll attend to the thing to-morrow night, sure. "

"May I ask just one favor in the meantime?"

"One favor? A dozen, Captain!"

"I'll take the other eleven later. Just now I only ask, since youhaven't proposed, that you won't--er--commit yourself any further, inany way, with Miss Cameron until after you've told your sister and untilafter Miss Cameron has been out here. "

"Oh, I say now!" protested Dick. 

"I am merely suggesting that affairs remain in statu quo until afterMiss Cameron's visit with your sister. That's not asking much of you, Dick--nor asking it for a very long time. "

"Oh, of course I'll do it, Captain, " grumbled Dick affectionately. "You've got me where I'll do almost anything you want me to do. "

But Dick did not speak to his sister the following evening. The nextmorning news came to Miss Sherwood of a friend's illness, and she andher novel-reading aunt hurried off at once on what was to prove to be aweek's absence. But this delay in his plan did not worry Larry greatlyas it otherwise would have done, for Dick repeated his promise to hold astiff rein upon himself until after he should have spoken to his sister. And Larry believed he could rely upon Dick's pledged word. 

During this week of waiting and necessary inactivity Larry concentratedupon another phase of his many-sided plan--to make of himself a businesssuccess. As has been said, he saw his chance of this in the handlingof Miss Sherwood's affairs; and saw it particularly in an idea that hadbegun to grow upon him since he became aware, through statementsand letters from the agents turned over to him, of the extent of theSherwood real-estate holdings and since he had got some glimmering oftheir condition. His previous venturings about the city had engenderedin him a sense of moderate security; so he now began to make flyingtrips into New York in the smart roadster Miss Sherwood had placed athis disposal. 

On each trip Larry made swift visits to several of the properties, untilfinally he had covered the entire list Miss Sherwood had furnished himthrough the agents. His survey corroborated his surmise. The property, mostly neglected apartment and tenement houses, was in an almost equallybad way whether one regarded it from the standpoint of sanitation, comfort, or cold financial returns. The fault for this was due to thefact that the Sherwoods had left the property entirely in the careof the agents, and the agents, being old, old-fashioned, and weary ofbusiness to the point of being almost ready to retire, had left theproperty to itself. 

Prompted by these bad conditions, and to some degree by the thencritical housing famine, with its records of some thousands of familieshaving no place at all to go and some thousands of families beingcompelled for the sake of mere shelter to pay two and three timeswhat they could afford for a few poor rooms, and with its records ofprofiteering landlords, Larry began to make notes for a plan whichhe intended later to elaborate--a plan which he tentatively entitled:"Suggestions for the Development of Sherwood Real-Estate Holdings. "Larry, knowing from the stubs of Miss Sherwood's checkbook what wouldbe likely to please her, gave as much consideration to Service asto Profit. The basis of his growing plan was good apartments at fairrentals. That he saw as the greatest of public services in the presentcrisis. But the return upon the investment had to be a reasonable one. Larry did not believe in Charity, except for extreme cases. He believed, and his belief had grown out of a wide experience with many kinds ofpeople, that Charity, of course to a smaller extent, was as definitely asource of social evil as the then much-talked-of Profiteering. 

In the meantime he was seeing his old friend, Joe Ellison, every day;perhaps smoking with Ellison in his cottage after he had finished hisday's work among the roses, perhaps walking along the bluff whichhung above the Sound, whose cool, clear waters splashed with vacationlaziness upon the shingle. The two men rarely spoke, and never of thepast. Larry was well acquainted with, and understood, the older man'sdeep-rooted wish to avoid all talk bearing upon deeds and associates ofother days; that was a part of his life and a phase of existence thatJoe Ellison was trying to forget, and Larry by his silence deferred tohis friend's desire. 

On the day after Joe Ellison's visit to the Duchess, Larry had receiveda note from his grandmother, addressed, of course, to "Mr. Brandon. "There was no danger in her writing Larry if she took adequateprecautions: mail addressed to Cedar Crest was not bothered by postaland police officials; it was only mail which came to the house of theDuchess which received the attention of these gentlemen. 

The note was one which the Duchess, after that night of thought whichhad so shaken her old heart, had decided to be a necessity if her planof never telling of her discovery of Maggie's real paternity were to bea success. The major portion of her note dwelt upon a generality withwhich Larry already was acquainted: Joe's desire to keep clear of alltalk touching upon the deeds and the people of his past. And then ina careless-seeming last sentence the Duchess packed the carefullycalculated substance of her entire note:

"It may not be very important--but particularly avoid ever mentioningthe mere name of Jimmie Carlisle. They used to know each other, andtheir acquaintance is about the bitterest thing Joe Ellison has toremember. "

Of course he'd never mention Old Jimmie Carlisle, Larry said to himselfas he destroyed the note--never guessing, in making this naturalresponse to what seemed a most natural request, that he had become anunconscious partner in the plan of the warm-hearted, scheming Duchess. 

There was one detail of Joe Ellison's behavior which aroused Larry'smild curiosity. Directly beneath one of Joe's gardens, hardly a hundredyards away, was a bit of beach and a pavilion which were used in commonby the families from the surrounding estates. The girls and youngerwomen were just home from schools and colleges, and at high tide werealways on the beach. At this period, whenever he was at Cedar Crest, Larry saw Joe, his work apparently forgotten, gazing fixedly downupon the young figures splashing about the water in their brightbathing-suits or lounging about the pavilion in their smart summerfrocks. 

This interest made Larry wonder, though to be sure not very seriously. For he had never a guess of how deep Joe's interest was. He did notknow, could not know, that that tall, fixed figure, with its oneabsorbing idea, was thinking of his daughter. He could not know that JoeEllison, emotionally elated and with a hungry, self-denying affectionthat reached out toward them all, was seeing his daughter as just sucha girl as one of these--simple, wholesome, well-brought-up. He couldnot know that Joe, in a way, perceived his daughter in every nice youngwoman he saw. 

Toward evening of the seventh day of her visit, Miss Sherwood returned. Larry was on the piazza when the car bearing her swept into thewhite-graveled curve of the drive. The car was a handsome, powerfulroadster. Larry had started out to be of such assistance as he could, when the figure at the wheel, a man, sprang from the car and helpedMiss Sherwood alight. Larry saw that the man was Hunt--such a differentHunt!--and he had begun a quick retreat when Hunt's voice called afterhim:

"You there--wait a minute! I want a little chin-chin with you. "

Larry halted. He could not help overhearing the few words that passedbetween Hunt and Miss Sherwood. 

"Thank you ever so much, " she said in her even voice. "Then you'recoming?"

"I promised, didn't I?"

"Then good-bye. "

"Good-bye. "

They shook hands friendly enough, but rather formally, and Miss Sherwoodturned to the house. Hunt called to Larry:

"Come here, son. "

Larry crossed to the big painter who was standing beside thepower-bulged hood of his low-swung car. 

"Happened to drop in where she was--brought her home--aunt followingin that hearse with its five-foot cushions she always rides in, "Hunt explained. And then: "Well, I suppose you've got to give me theonce-over. Hurry up, and get it done with. "

Larry obeyed. Hunt's wild hair had been smartly barbered, he had on aswagger dust-coat, and beneath it flannels of the smartest cut. Further, he bore himself as if smart clothes and smart cars had always been itemsof his equipment. 

"Well, young fellow, spill it, " he commanded. "What do I look like?"

"Like Solomon in all his glory. No, more like the he-dressmaker of theQueen of Sheba. "

"I'm going to run you up every telephone post we come to for thatinsult! Hop in, son, and we'll take a little voyage around the earth ineighty seconds. "

Larry got in. Once out of the drive the car leaped away as though intentupon keeping to Hunt's time-table. But after a mile or two Hunt quietedthe roaring monster to a conversational pace. 

"Get one of the invitations to my show?" he asked. 

"Yes. Several days ago. That dealer certainly got it up in great shape. "

"You must have hypnotized Graham. That old paint pirate is giving theengine all the gas she'll stand--and believe me, he's sure getting upa lot of speed. " Hunt grinned. "That private pre-exhibition show yousuggested is proving the best publicity idea Graham ever had in hismusty old shop. Everywhere I go, people are talking about the darnedthing. Every man, woman and child, also unmarried females of both sexes, who got invitations are coming--and those who didn't get 'em are tryingto bribe the traffic cop at Forty-Second Street to let 'em in. "

Hunt paused for a chuckle. "And I'm having the time of my young lifewith the people who always thought I couldn't paint, and who are nowtrying to sidle up to me on the suspicion that possibly after all I canpaint. What's got that bunch buffaloed is the fact that Graham has letit leak out that I'm likely to make bales of money from my painting. Theidea of any one making money out of painting, that's too much for theirheads. Oh, this is the life, Larry!"

Larry started to congratulate him, but was instantly interrupted with:

"I admit I'm a painter, and always will admit it. But this present thingis all your doing. We'll try to square things sometime. But I didn't askyou to come along to hear verbostical acrobatics about myself. I askedyou to learn if you'd worked out your plan yet regarding Maggie?"

"Yes. " And Larry proceeded to give the details of his design. 

"Regular psychological stuff!" exclaimed Hunt. And then: "Say, you'resome stage-manager! Or rather same playwright! Playwrights that knowtell me it's one of their most difficult tricks--to get all theirleading characters on the stage at the same time. And here you've gotit all fixed to bring on Miss Sherwood, Dick, Maggie, yourself, andthe all-important me--for don't forget I shall be slipping out to CedarCrest occasionally. "

"As for myself, " remarked Larry, "I shall remain very much behind thescenes. Maggie'll never see me. "

"Well, here's hoping you're good enough playwright to manage yourcharacters so they won't run away from you and mix up an ending younever dreamed of!"

The car paused again in the drive and Larry got out. 

"I say, Larry, " Hunt whispered eagerly, "who's that tall, white-hairedman working over there among the roses?"

"Joe Ellison. He's that man I told you about my getting to know in SingSing. Remember?"

"Oh, yes! The crook who was having his baby brought up to be a realperson. Say, he's a sure-enough character! Lordy, but I'd love to paintthat face!... So-long, son. "

The car swung around the drive and roared away. Larry mounted to thepiazza. Dick was waiting for him, and excitedly drew him down to onecorner that crimson ramblers had woven into a nook for confidences. 

"Captain, old scout, " he said in a low, happy voice, "I've just toldsis. Put the whole proposition up to her, just as you told me. Shetook it like a regular fellow. Your whole idea was one hundred per centright. Sis is inside now getting off that invitation to Miss Cameron, asking her to come out day after to-morrow. "

Larry involuntarily caught the veranda railing. "I hope it worksout--for the best, " he said. 

"Oh, it will--no doubt of it!" cried the exultant Dick. "And, Captain, if it does, it'll be all your doing!"

CHAPTER XXIII

When Miss Sherwood's invitation reached Maggie, Barney and Old Jimmiewere with her. The pair had growled a lot, though not directly atMaggie, at the seeming lack of progress Maggie had made during the pastweek. Barney was a firm enough believer in his rogue's creed of firstgetting your fish securely hooked; but, on the other hand, there was thedanger, if the hooked fish be allowed to remain too long in the water, that it would disastrously shake itself free of the barb and swim away. That was what Barney was afraid had been happening with Dick Sherwood. Therefore he was thinking of returning to his abandoned scheme ofselling stock to Dick. He might get Dick's money in that way, though ofcourse not so much money, and of course not so safely. 

And another item which for some time had not been pleasing Barney wasthat Larry Brainard had not yet been finally taken care of, either bythe police or by that unofficial force to which he had given orders. So he had good reason for permitting himself the relaxation of scowlingwhen he was not on public exhibition. 

But when Maggie, after reading the invitation, tossed it, together witha note from Dick, across to Barney without comment, the color of hisentire world changed for that favorite son of Broadway. The surlygloom of the end of a profitless enterprise became magically an auroraborealis of superior hopes:--no, something infinitely more substantialthan any heaven-painting flare of iridescent colors. 

"Maggie, it's the real thing! At last!" he cried. 

"What is it?" asked Old Jimmie. 

Barney gave him the letter. Jimmie read it through, then handed it back, slowly shaking his head. 

"I don't see nothing to get excited about, " said the ever-doubtful, ever-hesitant Jimmie. "It's only an invitation. "

"Aw, hell!" ejaculated the exasperated Barney in disgust. "If some onehanded you a government bond all you could see would be a cigar coupon!That invitation, together with this note from Dick Sherwood saying he'llcall and take Maggie out, means that the fish is all ready to be landed. Try to come back to life, Jimmie. If you knew anything at all aboutbig-league society, you'd know that sending invitations to meet thefamily--that's the way these swells do things when they're all set to dobusiness. We're all ready for the killing--the big clean-up!"

He turned to Maggie. "Great stuff, Maggie. I knew you could put it over. Of course you're going?"

"Of course, " replied Maggie with a composure which was wholly of hermanner. 

A sudden doubt came out of this glory to becloud Barney's master mind. "I don't know, " he said slowly. "It's one proposition to make oneof these men swells believe that a woman is the real thing. And it'sanother proposition to put it over on one of these women swells. They'vegot eyes for every little detail, and they know the difference betweenthe genuine article and an imitation. I've heard a lot about this MissSherwood; they say she's one of the cleverest of the swells. Think youcan walk into her house and put it over on her, Maggie?"

"Of course--why not?" answered Maggie, again with that composure whichwas prompted by her pride's desire to make Barney, and every one else, believe her equal to any situation. 

Barney's animation returned. "All right. If you think you can swing it, you can swing it, and the job's the same as finished and we're made!"

Left to herself, and the imposing propriety and magnificent stupidityof Miss Grierson, Maggie made no attempt to keep up her appearance ofconfidence. All her thoughts were upon this opportunity whichinsisted upon looking to her like a menace. She tried to whip herself-confidence, of which she was so proud, into a condition of constantpregnancy. But the plain fact was that Maggie, the misguided child of astolen birthright, whose soaring spirit was striving so hard to live upto the traditions and conventions of cynicism, whose young ambition itwas to outshine and surpass all possible competitors in this world inwhich she had been placed, who in her pride believed she knew so much oflife--the plain fact was that Maggie was in a state bordering on funk. 

This invitation from Miss Sherwood was an ordeal she had never countedon. She had watched the fine ladies at the millinery shop and whileselling cigarettes at the Ritzmore, when she had been modeling hermanners, and had believed herself just as fine a lady as they. But thathad been in the abstract. Now she was face to face with a situation thatwas painfully concrete--a real test: she had to place herself into closecontrast with, and under the close observation of, a real lady, and inthat lady's own home. And in all her life she had not once been in afine home! In fine hotels, yes--but fine hotels were the commonrefuge of butcher, baker, floor-walker, thief, swell, and each hadapproximately the same attention; and all she now felt she had reallylearned were a few such matters as the use of table silver and fingerbowls. 

It came to her that Barney, in his moment of doubt, had spoken moresoundly than he had imagined when he had said that it was easier to foola man about a woman than it was to fool a woman. How tragically truethat was! While trying to learn to be a lady by working in smart shops, she had learned that the occasional man who had ventured in afterwoman's gear was hopelessly ignorant and bought whatever was skillfullythrust upon him, but that it was impossible to slip an inferior orunsuitable or out-dated article over on the woman who really knew. 

And Miss Sherwood was the kind of woman who really knew! Who kneweverything. Could she possibly, possibly pass herself off on MissSherwood as the genuine article?... 

Could Larry have foreseen the very real misery--for any doubt of herown qualities, any fear of her ability to carry herself well in anysituation, are among the most acute of a proud woman's miseries--whichfor some twenty-four hours was brought upon Maggie by the well-meantintrigue of which he was pulling the hidden strings, he might, becauseof his love for Maggie, have discarded his design even while he wascreating it, and have sought a measure pregnant with less distress. Butperhaps it was just as well that Larry did not know. Perhaps, even, itwas just as well that he did not know what his grandmother knew. 

Maggie's pride would not let her evade the risk; and her instinctfor self-preservation dictated that she should reduce the risk to itsminimum. So she wrote her acceptance--Miss Grierson attended to thephrasing of her note--but expressed her regret that she would be able tocome only for the tea-hour. Drinking tea must be much the same, reasonedMaggie, whether it be drunk in a smart hotel or in a smart country home. 

Maggie's native shrewdness suggested her simplest summer gown as likelyto have committed the fewest errors, and the invaluable stupidity ofMiss Grierson aided her toward correctness if not originality. WhenDick came he was delighted with her appearance. On the way out hewas ebulliently excited in his talk. Maggie averaged a fair degree ofsensibility in her responses, though only her ears heard him. She wasfar more excited than he, and every moment her excitement mounted, forevery moment she was speeding nearer the greatest ordeal of her life. 

When at length they curved through the lawns of satin smoothness andDick slowed down the car before the long white house, splendid in itssimplicity, Maggie's excitement had added unto it a palpitant, chillingawe. And unto this was added consternation when, as they mounted thesteps, Miss Sherwood smilingly crossed the piazza and welcomed herwithout waiting for an introduction. Maggie mumbled some reply; shelater could not remember what it was. Indeed she never had met such awoman: so finished, so gracious, so unaffected, with a sparkle of humorin her brown eyes; and the rich plainness of her white linen frockmade Maggie conscious that her own supposed simplicity was cheap andostentatious. If Miss Sherwood had received her with hostility, doubt, or even chilled civility, the situation would have been easier; thearoused Maggie would then have made use of her own great endowment ofhauteur and self-esteem. But to be received with this frank cordiality, on a basis of a equality with this finished woman--that left Maggie forthe moment without arms. She had, in her high moments, believed herselfan adventuress whose poise and plans nothing could unbalance. Now shefound herself suddenly just a young girl of eighteen who didn't knowwhat to do. 

Had Maggie but known it that sudden unconscious confusion, which seemedto betray her, was really more effective for her purpose than wouldhave been the best of conscious acting. It established her at once as anunstagey ingenue--simple, unspoiled, unacquainted with the formulas andformalities of the world. 

Miss Sherwood, in her easy possession of the situation, banished Dickwith "Run away for a while, Dick, and give us two women a chance to getacquainted. " She had caught Maggie's embarrassment, and led her toa corner of the veranda which looked down upon the gardens and theglistering Sound. She spoke of the impersonal beauties spread beforetheir vision, until she judged that Maggie's first flutter had abated;then she led the way to wicker chairs beside a table where obviously teawas to be spread. 

Miss Sherwood accepted Maggie for exactly what she seemed to be; andpresently she was saying in a low voice, with her smiling, unoffendingdirectness:

"Excuse the liberty of an older woman, Miss Cameron--but I don't wonderthat Dick likes you. You see, he's told me. "

If Maggie had been at loss for her cue before, she had it now. It wasunpretentiousness. 

"But, Miss Sherwood--I'm so crude, " she faltered, acting her best. "OutWest I never had any chances to learn. Not any chances like your Easterngirls. "

"That's no difference, my dear. You are a nice, simple girl--that's whatcounts!"

"Thank you, " said Maggie. 

"So few of our rich girls of the East know what it is to be simple, "continued Miss Sherwood. "Too many are all affectation, and pose, andforwardness. At twenty they know all there is to be known, they areblasees--cynical--ready for divorce before they are ready for marriage. By contrast you are so wholesome, so refreshing. "

"Thank you, " Maggie again murmured. 

And as the two women sat there, sprung from the extremes of life, butfor the moment on the level of equals, and as the older talked on, theregrew up in Maggie two violently contradictory emotions. One was triumph. She had won out here, just as she had said she would win out; and wonout with what Barney had declared to be the most difficult person to getthe better of, a finished woman of the world. Indeed, that was triumph!

The other emotion she did not understand so well. And just thenshe could not analyze it. It was an unexpected dismay--a vague butpermeating sickness--a dazed sense that she was being carried byunfamiliar forces toward she knew not what. 

She held fast to her sense of triumph. That was the more apprehendableand positive; triumph was what she had set forth to win. This sense oftriumph was at its highest, and she was resting in its elating security, when a car stopped before the house and a large man got out and startedup the steps. From the first moment there was something familiar toMaggie in his carriage, but not till Miss Sherwood, who had risen andcrossed toward him, greeted him as "Mr. Hunt, " did Maggie recognize thewell-dressed visitor as the shabby, boisterous painter whom she had lastseen down at the Duchess's. 

Panic seized upon her. Miss Sherwood was leading him toward where shesat and his first clear sight of her would mean the end. There wasno possible escape; she could only await her fate. And when she wasdenounced as a fraud, and her glittering victory was gone, she couldonly take herself away with as much of the defiance of admitted defeatas she could assume--and that wouldn't be much. 

She gazed up at Hunt, whitely, awaiting extermination. Miss Sherwood'svoice came to her from an infinite distance, introducing them. Huntbowed, with a formally polite smile, and said formally, "I'm very gladto meet you, Miss Cameron. "

Not till he and Miss Sherwood were seated and chatting did Maggierealize the fullness of the astounding fact that he had not recognizedher. This was far more upsetting to her than would have been recognitionand exposure; she had been all braced for that, but not for what hadactually happened. She was certain he must have known her; nothing hadreally changed about her except her dress, and only a few weeks hadpassed since he had been seeing her daily down at the Duchess's, and since she had been his model, and he had studied every line andexpression of her face with those sharp painter's eyes of his. 

And so as the two chatted, she putting in a stumbling phrase when theyturned to her, Maggie Carlisle, Maggie Cameron, Maggie Ellison, thatgallant and all-confident adventuress who till the present had neveradmitted herself seriously disturbed by a problem, sat limply in herchair, a very young girl, indeed, and wondered how this thing couldpossibly be. 

CHAPTER XXIV

Presently Miss Sherwood said something about tea, excused herself, anddisappeared within the house. Maggie saw that Hunt watched Miss Sherwoodtill she was safely within doors; then she was aware that he was gazingsteadily at her; then she saw him execute a slow, solemn wink. 

Maggie almost sprang from her chair. 

"Shall we take a little stroll, Miss Cameron?" Hunt asked. "I think itwill be some time before Miss Sherwood will want us for tea. "

"Yes--thank you, " Maggie stammered. 

Hunt led her down a walk of white gravel to where a circle of Hiawatharoses were trained into a graceful mosque, now daintily glorious withits solid covering of yellow-hearted red blooms. Within this retreat wasa rustic bench, and on this Hunt seated her and took a place beside her. He looked her over with the cool, direct, studious eyes which remindedher of his gaze when he had been painting her. 

"Well, Maggie, " he finally commented, "you certainly look the part youpicked out for yourself, and you seem to be putting it over. Always hadan idea you could handle something big if you went after it. How d'youlike the life, being a swell lady crook?"

She had hardly heard his banter. She needed to ask him no questionsabout his presence here; his ease of bearing had conveyed to herunconsciously from the first instant that her previous half-contemptuousestimate of him had been altogether wrong and that he was now in hisnatural element. Her first question went straight to the cause of heramazement. 

"Didn't you recognize me when you first saw me with Miss Sherwood?"

"Yes. "

"Weren't you surprised?"

"Nope, " he answered with deliberate monosyllabioness. 

"Why not?"

"I'd been wised up that I'd be likely to meet you--and here. "

"Here! By whom?"

"By advice of counsel I must decline to answer. "

"Why didn't you tell Miss Sherwood who I am and show me up?"

"Because I'd been requested not to tell. "

"Requested by whom?"

"Maggie, " he drawled, "you seem to be making a go of this lady crookbusiness--but I think you might have been even more of a shining lightas a criminal cross-examiner. However, I refuse to be cross-examinedfurther. By the way, " he drawled on, "how goes it with those dear souls, Barney and Old Jimmie?"

She ignored his question. 

"Please! Who asked you not to tell?"

There was a sudden glint of good-humored malice in his eyes. "Mind if Ismoke?"

"No. "

He drew out a silver cigarette case and opened it. "Empty!" heexclaimed. "Excuse me while I get something from the house to smoke. I'll be right back. "

Without waiting for her permission he stepped out of the arbor and sheheard his footsteps crunching up the gravel path. Maggie waited hisreturn in pulsing suspense. Her situation had been developing beyondanything she had ever dreamed of; she was aquiver as to what mighthappen next. So absorbed was she in her chaos of feeling and thoughtsthat she did not even hear the humble symphony of the hundreds of beesdrawing their treasure from the golden hearts of the roses; and didnot see, across the path a score of yards away, the tall figure of JoeEllison among the rosebushes, pruning-shears in hand, with which hehad been cutting out dead blossoms, gazing at her with that hungry, admiring, speculative look with which he had regarded the young womenupon the beach. 

Presently she heard Hunt's footsteps coming down the path. Then shedetected a second pair. Dick accompanying him, she thought. And thenHunt appeared before her, and was saying in his big voice: "MissCameron, permit me to present my friend, Mr. Brandon. " And then he addedin a lowered voice, grinning with the impish delight of an overgrown boywho is playing a trick: "Thought I'd better go through the motions ofintroducing you people, so it would look as if you'd just met for thefirst time. " And with that he was gone. 

Maggie had risen galvanically. For the moment she could only stare. Thenshe got out his name. 

"Larry!" she whispered. "You here?"

"Yes. "

Astounded as she was, she had caught instantly the total lack ofamazement on Larry's part. 

"You're--you're not surprised to see me?"

"No, " he said evenly. "I knew you were here. And before that I knew youwere coming. "

That was almost too much for Maggie. Hunt had known and Larry had known;both were people belonging to her old life, both the last peopleshe expected to meet in such circumstances. She could only stare athim--entirely taken aback by this meeting. 

And indeed it was a strangely different meeting from the last time shehad seen him, at the Grantham; strangely different from those earliermeetings down at the Duchess's when both had been grubs as yetunmetamorphosized. Now standing in the arbor they looked a pair ofweekend guests, in keeping with the place. For, as Maggie had noted, Larry in his well-cut flannels was as greatly transformed as Hunt. 

It was Larry who ended the silence. "Shall we sit down?"

She mechanically sank to the bench, still staring at him. 

"What are you doing here?" she managed to breathe. 

"I belong here. "

"Belong here?"

"I work here, " he explained. "I'm called 'Mr. Brandon, ' but MissSherwood knows exactly who I am and what I've been. "

"How long have you been here?"

"Since that night when Barney and Old Jimmie took you away to begin yournew career--the same night that I ran away from those gunmen who thoughtI was a squealer, and from Casey and Gavegan. "

"And all the while that Barney and my father and the police have thoughtyou hiding some place in the West, you've been with the Sherwoods?"

"Yes. And I've got to remain in hiding until something happens that willclear me. If the police or Barney and his friends learn where I am--youcan guess what will happen. "

She nodded. 

"Hunt got me here, " he went on to explain. "I'm assisting in trying toget the Sherwood business affairs in better shape. I might as well tellyou, Maggie, " he added quietly, "that Dick Sherwood is my very goodfriend. "

"Dick Sherwood!" she breathed. 

"And I might as well tell you, " he went on, "that since that night atthe Grantham when I heard his voice, I've known that Dick is the suckeryou and Barney and Old Jimmie are trying to trim. "

She half rose, and her voice sounded sharply: "Then you've got me caughtin a trap! You've told them about me?"

"No. "

"Why not?"

"Not so loud, or we may attract attention, " he warned her. "I haven'ttold because you had your chance to give me away to Barney that night atthe Grantham. And you didn't give me away. "

She sank slowly back to the bench. "Is that your only reason?"

"No, " he answered truthfully. "Exposing you would merely mean that you'dfeel harder toward me--and harder toward every one else. I don't wantthat. "

She pondered this a moment. "Then--you're not going to tell?"

He shook his head. "I don't expect to. I want you to be free to decidewhat you're going to do--though I hope you'll decide not to go throughwith this thing you're doing. "

She made no response. Larry had spoken with control until now, but hisnext words burst from him. 

"Don't you see what a situation it's put me in, Maggie--trying to playsquare with my friends, the Sherwoods, and trying to play square withyou?"

Again she did not answer. 

"Maggie, you're too good for what you're doing--it's all a terriblemistake!" he cried passionately. Then he remembered himself, and spokewith more composure. "Oh, I know there's not much use in talking to younow--while you feel as you do about yourself--and while you feel as youdo about me. But you know I love you, and want to marry you--when--" Hehalted. 

"When?" she prompted, almost involuntarily. 

"When you see things differently--and when I can go around the world afree man, not a fugitive from Barney and his gunmen and the police. "

Again Maggie was silent for a moment. It was as if she were trying topress out of her mind what he had said about loving her. Truly this was, indeed, different from their previous meetings. Before, there had almostinvariably been a defiant attitude, a dispute, a quarrel. Now she had nodesire to quarrel. 

Finally she said with an effort to be that self-controlled person whichshe had established as her model:

"You seem to have your chance here to put over what you boasted to meabout. You remember making good in a straight way. "

"Yes. And I shall make good--if only they will let me alone. " He pausedan instant. "But I have no illusions about the present, " he went onquietly. "I'm in quiet water for a time; I've got a period of safety;and I'm using this chance to put in some hard work. But presently thepolice and Barney and the others will learn where I am. Then I'll haveall that fight over again--only the next time it'll be harder. "

She was startled into a show of interest. "You think that's really goingto happen?"

"It's bound to. There's no escaping it. If for no other reason, I myselfwon't be able to stand being penned up indefinitely. Something willhappen, I don't know what, which will pull me out into the openworld--and then for me the deluge!"

He made this prediction grimly. He was not a fatalist, but it had beenborne in upon him recently that this thing was inescapable. As for him, when that time came, he was going to put up the best fight that was inhim. 

He caught the strained look which had come into Maggie's face, and itprompted him suddenly to lean toward her and say:

"Maggie, do you still think I'm a stool and a squealer?"

"I--"

She broke off. She had a surging impulse to go on and say something toLarry. A great deal. She was not conscious of what that great deal was. She was conscious only of the impulse. There was too great a turmoilwithin her, begotten by the strain of her visit on Miss Sherwood andthese unexpected meetings, for any motive, impulse, or decision toemerge to even a brief supremacy. And so, during this period when herbrain would not operate, she let herself be swept on by the momentum ofthe forces which had previously determined her direction--her pride, herself-confidence, her ambition, the alliance of fortune between her andBarney and Old Jimmie. 

They were sitting in this silence when footsteps again sounded on thegravel, and a shadow blotted the arbor floor. 

"Excuse me, Larry, " said a man's voice. 

"Sure. What is it, Joe?"

Before her Maggie saw the tall, thin man in overalls, his removedbroad-brimmed hat revealing his white hair, whom she had noticeda little earlier working among the flowers. He held a bunch of thechoicest pickings from the abundant rose gardens, their stems bound inmaple leaves as temporary protection against their thorns. He was gazingat Maggie, respectful, hungry admiration in his somber eyes. 

"I thought perhaps the young lady might care for these. " He held out theroses to her. And then quickly, to forestall refusal: "I cut out morethan we can use for the house. And I'd like to have you have them. "

"Thank you, " and Maggie took the flowers. 

For an instant their eyes held. In every outward circumstance the eventwas a commonplace--this meeting of father and daughter, not knowing eachother. It was hardly more than a commonplace to Maggie: just a tall, white-haired gardener respectfully offering her roses. And it was hardlymore to Joe Ellison: just a tribute evoked by his hungry interest inevery well-seeming girl of the approximate age of his daughter. 

At the moment's end Joe Ellison had bowed and started back for hisflower beds. "Who is that man?" asked Maggie, gazing after him. "I neversaw such eyes. "

"We used to be pals in Sing Sing, " Larry replied. He went on to givebriefly some of the details of Joe Ellison's story, never dreaming howhe and Maggie were entangled in that story, nor how they were to beinvolved in its untanglement. Perhaps they were fortunate in thisignorance. Within the boundaries of what they did know life already heldenough of problems and complications. 

Larry had just finished his condensed history when Dick Sherwoodappeared and ordered them to the veranda for tea. There were justthe five of them, Miss Sherwood, Maggie, Hunt, Dick, and Larry. MissSherwood was as gracious as before, and she seemingly took Maggie'sstrained manner and occasional confusions as further proof of hergenuineness. Dick beamed at the impression she was making upon hissister. 

As for Maggie, she was living through the climax of that afternoon'sstrain. And she dared not show it. She forced herself to do her bestacting, sipping her tea with a steady hand. And what made her situationharder was that two of the party, Larry and Hunt, were treating her withthe charmed deference they might accord a charming stranger, when a wordfrom either of them might destroy the fragile edifice of her deception. 

At last it was over, and all was ready for her to start back to townwith Dick. When Miss Sherwood kissed her and warmly begged her to comeagain soon, the very last of her control seemed to be slipping fromher--but she held on. Larry and Hunt she managed to say goodbye to inthe manner of her new acquaintanceship. 

"Isn't she simply splendid!" exclaimed Miss Sherwood when Dick hadstepped into the car and the two had started away. 

Larry pretended not to have heard. He felt precariously guilty towardthis woman who had befriended him. The next instant he had forgottenMiss Sherwood and his pulsing thoughts were all on Maggie in thatspeeding car. She had been profoundly shaken by that afternoon'sexperience, this much he knew. But what was going to be the real effectupon her of his carefully thought-out design? Was it going to be such asto save her and Dick?--and eventually win her for himself?

In the presence of Miss Sherwood Larry tried to behave as if nothinghad happened more than the pleasant interruption of an informal tea: butbeneath that calm all his senses were waiting breathless, so to speak, for news of what had happened within Maggie, and what might be happeningto her. 

CHAPTER XXV

When Maggie sped away from Cedar Crest in the low seat of the roadsterbeside the happy Dick, she felt herself more of a criminal than at anytime in her life, and a criminal that miraculously was making her escapeout of an inescapable set of circumstances. 

Beyond her relief at this escape she did not know these first fewminutes what she thought or felt. Too much had happened, and what hadhappened had all turned out so differently from what she had expected, for her to set in orderly array this chaos of reactions within herselfand read the meaning of that afternoon's visit. She managed, with agreat effort, to keep under control the outer extremities of her senses, and thus respond with the correct "yes" or "no" or "indeed" when someresponse from her was required by Dick's happy conversation. 

Near Roslyn they swung off the turnpike into an unfrequented, shadyroad. Dick steered to one side beneath a locust-tree and silenced themotor. 

"Why are you stopping?" she asked in sudden alarm. 

"So we can talk without a piece of impertinent machinery roaringinterruptions at us, " replied Dick with forced lightness. And then ina voice he could not make light: "I want to talk to you about--about mysister. Isn't she splendid?"

"She is!" There was no wavering of her thoughts as Maggie emphaticallysaid this. 

"I'm mighty glad you like her. She certainly liked you. She's all thefamily I've got, and since you two hit it off so well together I hope--Ihope, Maggie--"

And then Dick plunged into it, stammeringly, but earnestly. He toldher how much he loved her, in old phrases that his boyish ardor madevibrantly new. He loved her! And if she would marry him, her influencewould make him take the brace all his friends had urged upon him. She'dmake him a man! And she could see how pleased it would make his sister. And he would do his best to make Maggie happy--his very best!

The young super-adventuress--she herself had mentally used the word"adventuress" in thinking of herself, as being more genteel and mentallyaristocratic than the cruder words by which Barney and Old Jimmie andtheir kind designated a woman accomplice--this young super-adventuress, who had schemed all this so adroitly, and worked toward it with the bestof her brain and her conscious charm, was seized with new panic as shelistened to the eager torrent of his imploring words, as she gazed intothe quivering earnestness of his frank, blue-eyed face. She wishedshe could get out of the machine and run away or sink through thefloor-boards of the car. For she really liked Dick. 

"I'm--I'm not so good as you think, " she whispered. And then someunsuspected force within her impelled her to say: "Dick, if you knew thetruth--"

He caught her shoulders. "I know all the truth about you I want to know!You're wonderful, and I love you! Will you marry me? Answer that. That'sall I want to know!"

He had checked the confession that impulsively had surged toward herlips. Silent, her eyes wide, her breath coming sharply, she sat gazingat him.... And then from out the portion of her brain where were storedher purposes, and the momentum of her pride and determination, thereflashed the realization that she had won! The thing that Barney and OldJimmie had prepared and she had so skillfully worked toward, was at lastachieved! She had only to say "yes, " and either of those two plans whichBarney had outlined could at once be put in operation--and there couldbe no doubt of the swift success of either. Dick's eager, trusting facewas guarantee that there would come no obstruction from him. 

She felt that in some strange way she had been caught in a trap. Yes, what they had worked for, they had won! And yet, in this moment ofwinning, as elements of her vast dizziness, Maggie felt sick andashamed--felt a frenzied desire to run away from the whole affair. ForMaggie, cynical, all-confident, and eighteen, was proving really a verypoor adventuress. 

"Please, Maggie"--his imploring voice broke in upon her--"won't youanswer me? You like me, don't you?--you'll marry me, won't you?"

"I like you, Dick, " she choked out--and it was some slight comfort toher to be telling this much of the truth--"but--but I can't marry you. "

"Maggie!" It was a cry of surprised pain, and the pain in his voiceshot acutely into her. "From the way you acted toward me--I thought--Ihoped--" He sharply halted the accusation which had risen to his lips. "I'm not going to take that answer as final, Maggie, " he said doggedly. "I'm going to give you more time to think it over--more time for me totry. Then I'll ask you again. "

That which prompted Maggie's response was a mixture of impulses: thedesire, and this offered opportunity, to escape; and a faint reassertionof the momentum of her purpose. For with one such as Maggie, the setpurposes may be seemingly overwhelmed, but death comes hard. 

"All right, " she breathed rapidly. "Only please get me back as quicklyas you can. I'm to have dinner with my--my cousin, and I'll be verylate. "

Dick drove her into the city in almost unbroken silence and left her atthe great doors of the Grantham, abustle with a dozen lackeys in purplelivery. She stood a moment and watched him drive away. He really was anice boy--Dick. 

As she shot up the elevator, she thought of a hitherto forgotten elementof that afternoon's bewildering situation. Barney Palmer! And Barneywas, she knew, now up in her sitting-room, impatiently waiting for herreport of what he had good reason to believe would prove a successfulexperience. If she told the truth--that Dick had proposed, just as theyhad planned for him to do--and she had refused him--why, Barney--!

She seemed caught on every side!

Maggie got into her suite by way of her bedroom. She wanted time togather her wits for meeting Barney. When Miss Grierson told her thather cousin was still waiting to take her to dinner, she requested hercompanion to inform Barney that she would be in as soon as she haddressed. She wasted all the time she legitimately could in changing intoa dinner-gown, and when at length she stepped into her sitting-room shewas to Barney's eye the same cool Maggie as always. 

Barney rose as she entered. He was in smart dinner jacket; these daysBarney was wearing the smartest of everything that money could secure. There was a shadow of impatience on his face, but it was instantlydissipated by Maggie's self-composed, direct-eyed beauty. 

"How'd you come out with Miss Sherwood?" he whispered eagerly. 

"Well enough for her to kiss me good-bye, and beg me to come again. "

"I've got to hand it to you, Maggie! You're sure some swellactress--you've sure got class!" His dark eyes gleamed on her with halfa dozen pleasures: admiration of what she was in herself--admirationof what she had just achieved--anticipation of results, manyresults--anticipation of what she was later to mean to him in a personalway. "If you can put it over on a swell like Miss Sherwood, you can putit over on any one!" He exulted. "As soon as we clean up this job inhand, we'll move on to one big thing after another!"

And then out came the question Maggie had been bracing herself for: "Howabout Dick Sherwood? Did he finally come across with that proposal?"

"No, " Maggie answered steadily. 

"No? Why not?" exclaimed Barney sharply. "I thought that was all thatwas holding him back--waiting for his sister to look you over and giveyou her O. K. ?"

Maggie had decided that her air of cool, indifferent certainty was thebest manner to use in this situation with Barney. So she shrugged herwhite shoulders. 

"How can I tell what makes a man do something, and what makes him not doit?"

"But did he seem any less interested in you than before?" Barneypursued. 

"No, " replied Maggie. 

"Then maybe he's just waiting to get up his nerve. He'll ask you, allright; nothing there for us to worry about. Come on, let's have dinner. I'm starved. "

On the roof of the Grantham they were excellently served; for Barneyknew how to order a dinner, and he knew the art, which is an alchemisticmixture of suave diplomacy and the insinuated power and purpose ofmurder, of handling head-waiters and their sub-autocrats. Having noother business in hand, Barney devoted himself to that business whichran like a core through all his businesses--paying court to Maggie. Andwhen Barney wished to be a courtier, there were few of his class whocould give a better superficial interpretation of the role; and in thisparticular instance he was at the advantage of being in earnest. Heforced the most expensive tidbits announced by the dinner card uponMaggie; he gallantly and very gracefully put on and removed, as requiredby circumstances, the green cobweb of a scarf Maggie had brought tothe roof as protection against the elements; and when he took thedancing-floor with her, he swung her about and hopped up and downand stepped in and out with all the skill of a master of the modernperversion of dancing. Barney was really good enough to have been aprofessional dancer had his desires not led him toward what seemed tohim a more exciting and more profitable career. 

Maggie, not to rouse Barney's suspicions, played her role as well as hedid his own. And most of the other diners, a fraction of the changingtwo or three hundred thousand people from the South and West who chooseNew York as the best of all summer resorts, gazed upon this handsomecouple with their intricate steps which were timed with such effortlessand enviable accuracy, and excitedly believed that they were beholdingtwo distinguished specimens of what their home papers persisted incalling New York's Four Hundred. 

Maggie got back to her room with the feeling that she had staved offBarney and her numerous other dilemmas for the immediate present. Herchief thought in the many events of the day had been only to escape herdangers and difficulties for the moment; all the time she had known thather real thinking, her real decisions, were for a later time when shewas not so driven by the press of unexpected circumstances. That lessstressful time was now beginning. 

What was she to do next? What were to be her final decisions? And what, in all this strange ferment, was likely to germinate as possible forcesagainst her?

She mulled these things over for several days, during which Dick came tosee her twice, and twice proposed, and was twice put off. She had quietnow, and was most of the time alone, but that clarity which she hadexpected, that quickness and surety of purpose which she had alwaysbelieved to be unfailingly hers, refused to come. 

She tried to have it otherwise, but the outstanding figure in hermeditations was Larry. Larry, who had not exposed her at the Sherwoods', and whose influence had caused Hunt also not to expose her--Larry, whowithout deception was on a familiar footing at the Sherwoods' where shehad been received only through trickery--Larry, a fugitive in dangerfrom so many enemies, perhaps after all undeserved enemies--Larry, who looked to be making good on his boast to achieve success throughhonesty--Larry, who had again told her that he loved her. She liked DickSherwood--she really did. But Larry--that was something different. 

And thus she thought on, drawn this way and that, and unable to reach adecision. But with most people, when in a state of acute mental turmoil, that which has been most definite in the past, instinct, habit of mind, purpose, tradition, becomes at least temporarily the dominant factorthrough the mere circumstance that it has existed powerfully before, through its comparative stability, through its semi-permanence. And sowith Maggie. She had for that one afternoon almost been won over againstherself by the workings of Larry's secret diplomacy. Then had comethe natural reaction. And now in her turmoil, in so far as she had anydecision, it was instinctively to go right ahead in the direction inwhich she had been going. 

But on the sixth day of her uncertainty, just after Dick had called onher and she had provisionally accepted an invitation to Cedar Crest forthe following afternoon, a danger which she had half seen from thestart burst upon her without a moment's warning. It came into hersitting-room, just before her dinner hour, in the dual form of Barneyand Old Jimmie. The faces of both were lowering. 

"Get rid of that boob chaperon of yours!" gritted Barney. "We're goingto have some real talk!"

Maggie stepped to the connecting door, sent Miss Grierson on aninconsequential errand, and returned. 

"You're looking as pleasant as if you were sitting for a new photograph, Barney. What gives you that sweet expression?"

"You'll cut out your comic-supplement stuff in just one second, " Barneywarned her. "We both saw young Sherwood awhile ago as he was leaving theGrantham, and he told us everything!"

Persiflage did indeed fail Maggie. "Everything?" she exclaimed. "What'severything?"

"He told us about proposing to you almost a week ago, and about yourrefusing him. And you lied to us--kept us sitting round, wasting ourtime--and all the while you've been double-crossing us!"

Those visitors from South and West, especially the women, who a fewnights before on the roof had regarded Barney as the perfect courtier, would not have so esteemed him if they had seen him at the presentmoment. He seized Maggie's wrists, and all the evil of his violentnature glared from his small bright eyes. 

"Damn you!" he cried. "Jimmie, she's yours, and a father's got a rightto do anything he likes to his own daughter. Give it to her proper ifshe don't come across with the truth!"

Jimmie stepped closer to her and bared his yellow teeth. "I haven'tgiven you a basting since you were fifteen--but I'll paste you one rightin the mouth if you don't talk straight talk!"

"You hear that!" Barney gritted at her. He believed there was justice inhis wrath--as indeed there was, of a sort. "Think what Jimmie and I'veput into this, in time and hard coin! We've given you your chance, we'vemade you! And then, after hard work and waiting and our spending somuch, and everything comes out exactly as we figured, you go and throwus down--not just yourself, but us and our rights! Now you talk straightstuff! Tell us, why did you refuse Sherwood when he proposed? And whydid you tell me that lie about his not proposing?"

Maggie realized she was in a desperate plight, with these two inflamedgazes upon her. Never had she felt so little of a daughter's liking forOld Jimmie as now when she looked into his lean, harsh, yellow-fangedface. And she had no illusions about Barney. He might love her, as sheknew he did; but that would not be a check upon his ruthlessness if hethought himself balked or betrayed. 

Just then her telephone began to ring. She started to move toward it, but Barney's grip checked her short. 

"You're going to answer me--not any damned telephone! Let it ring!"

The bell rang for a minute or two before it stilled its shrill clamor. Its ringing was in a way a brief respite to Maggie, for it gave heradditional time to consider what should be her course. She realizedthat she dared not let Barney believe at this moment that she had turnedagainst him. Again she fell back upon her cool, self-confident manner. 

"You want to know why? The answer is simple enough. I thought I mighttry out an improvement of our plan--something that might suit mebetter. "

"What's that?" Barney harshly demanded. 

"Since Miss Sherwood fell for me so easy, it struck me that she'd bepretty sure to fall for me if I told her the whole truth about myself. That is, everything except our scheme to play Dick for a sucker. "

"What're you driving at?"

"Don't you see? If she forgave me being what I am, and I rather thinkshe would, and with Dick liking me as he does--why, it struck me as thebest thing for yours truly to marry Dick for keeps. "

"What?" Though Barney's voice was low, it had the effect of a startledand savage roar. "And chuck us over-board?"

"Not at all. If I married Dick for keeps, I intended to pay you a lumpsum, or else a regular amount each year. "

"No, you don't!" Barney cried in the same muffled roar. 

"Perhaps not--I haven't decided, " Maggie said evenly. "I've merely beentelling you, as you requested me, why I did as I did. I refused Dick, and lied to you, so that I might have more time to think over what Ireally wanted to do. "

Instinctively she had counted on rousing Barney's jealousy in order tothrow him off the track of her real thoughts. She succeeded. 

"I can tell you what you're going to do!" Barney flung at her withfierce mastery. "You're not going to put over a sure-enough marriagewith any Dick Sherwood! When there's that kind of a marriage, I'm goingto be the man! And you're going to go right straight ahead with our oldplan! Dick'll propose again if you give him half a chance. And when hedoes, you say 'yes'! Understand? That's what you're going to do!"

There was no safety in openly defying Barney. And as a matter of factwhat he had ordered was what, in the shifting currents of her thoughts, the steady momentum of her old ambitions and purposes had been pushingher toward. So she said, in her even voice:

"You waste such a lot of your good energy, Barney, by exploding whenthere's nothing to blow up. That's exactly what I'd decided to do. MissSherwood has asked me out to Cedar Crest to-morrow afternoon, and I'mgoing. "

Barney let go the hold he had kept upon her wrists, and the dark lookslowly lifted from his face. "Why didn't you tell a fellow this atfirst?" he half grumbled. Then with a grim enthusiasm: "And when youcome back, you're going to tell us it's all settled!"

"Of course--if he asks me. And now suppose you two go away. You've givenme a headache, and I want to rest. "

"We'll go, " said Barney. "But there may be some more points about thisthat we may want to talk over a little later to-night. So better get allthe rest you can. "

But when they had gone and left her to the silence of her pretentiousand characterless suite, Maggie did not rest. She had made up her mind;she was going to do as she had said. But there was still that sameturmoil within her. 

Again she thought of Larry. But she would not admit to herself that herreal motive for suddenly deciding to go to Cedar Crest on the morrow wasthe chance of seeing him. 

CHAPTER XXVI

During all these days Larry waited for news of the result of theexperiment in psychology which meant so much to his life. He had notexpected to hear directly from Maggie; but he had counted upon learningat once from Dick, if not by words, then either from eloquent dejectionwhich would proclaim Dick's refusal (and Larry's success) or from anebullient joy which would proclaim that Maggie had accepted him. ButDick's sober but not unhappy behavior announced neither of these twoto Larry; and the matter was too personal, altogether too delicate, topermit Larry to ask Dick the result, however subtly he might ask it. 

So Larry could only wait--and wonder. The truth did not occur to Larry;he did not see that there might be another alternative to the twopossible reactions he had calculated upon. He did not bear in mind thatMaggie's youthful obstinacy, her belief in herself and her ways, weretoo solid a structure to yield at once to one moral shock, howeverwisely planned and however strong. He did not at this time hold in mindthat any real change in so decided a character as Maggie, if changethere was to be, would be preceded and accompanied by a turbulent periodin which she would hardly know who she was, or where she was, or whatshe was going to do--and that at the end of such a period there might beno change at all. 

Inasmuch as just then Maggie was his major interest, it seemed to Larryin his safe seclusion that he was merely marking time, and marking timewith feet that were frantically impatient. He felt he could not standmuch longer his own inactivity and his ignorance of what Maggie wasdoing and what was happening to her. He could not remain in thissanctuary pulling strings, and very long and fragile strings, andstrings which might be the mistaken ones, for any much greater period. He felt that he simply had to walk out of this splendid safety, backinto the dangers from which he had fled, where he might at least havethe possible advantage of being in the very midst of Maggie's affairsand fight for her more openly and have a more direct influence upon her. 

He knew that, sooner or later, he was going to throw caution asideand appear suddenly among his enemies, unless something of a definitecharacter developed. But for these slow, irritating days he held himselfin check with difficulty, hoping that things might come to him, that hewould not have to go forth to them. 

He had brought Hunt's portrait of Maggie to Cedar Crest in the bottom ofhis trunk, and kept it locked in his chiffonier. During these days, more frequently than before, he would take out the portrait and inthe security of his locked room would gaze long at that keen-visionedportrayal of her many characters. No doubt of it: there was a possiblesplendid woman there! And no doubt of it: he loved that woman utterly!

During these days of his ignorance, while Maggie was struggling in thedarkness of her unexplored being, Larry drove himself grimly at thebusiness to which under happier circumstances he would have gone underthe irresistible suasion of pure joy. One afternoon he presented toMiss Sherwood an outline for his growing plan for the development ofthe Sherwood properties on the basis of good homes at fair rentals. Hediscovered that, in spite of her generous giving, she had much the sameattitude toward Charity as his own: that the only sound Charity, exceptfor those temporarily or permanently handicapped or disabled, was thegiving of honest values for honest returns--and that was not Charity atall. 

The project of reforming the shiftless character of the Sherwoodproperties, and of relieving even in a small degree New York's housingcongestion, appealed at once to her imagination and her sensibleidealism. 

"A splendid plan!" she exclaimed, regarding Larry with those wise, humorous eyes of hers, which were now very serious and penetrating. "Youhave been working much harder than I had thought. And if you will pardonmy saying it, you have more of the soundly humane vision which bigbusiness enterprise should have than I had thought. "

"Thank you!" said Larry. 

"That's a splendid dream, " she continued; "but it will take hard work totranslate that dream into a reality. We shall need architects, builders, a heavy initial expense, time--and a more modern and alert management. "

"Yes, Miss Sherwood. "

She did not speak for a moment. Her penetrating eyes, which had beenfixed on him in close thought, were yet more penetrating. Finally shesaid:

"That's a big thing, a useful thing. The present agents wish to berelieved of our affairs as soon as I can make arrangements--and I'dlike nothing better than for Dick to drop what he's doing and get intosomething constructive and useful like this. But Dick cannot do italone; he's too unsettled, and too inexperienced to cope with some ofthe sharper business practices. "

She paused again, still regarding him with those keen eyes, which seemedto be weighing him. Finally she said, almost abruptly:

"Will you take charge of this with Dick? He likes you and respectsyour judgment; I'm sure you'd help steady him down. Of course you lackpractical experience, but you can take in a practical man who willsupply this element. Practical experience is one of the commonestarticles on the market; vision and initiative are among the rarest--andyou have them. What do you say?"

Larry could not say anything at once. The suddenness of her offer, thelargeness of his opportunity, bewildered him for the moment. And hisbewilderment was added to by his swift realization of quite anotherelement involved in her frank proposition. He was now engaged in theenterprise of foisting a bogus article, Maggie, upon this woman who wasoffering him her complete confidence--an enterprise of most questionableethics and very dubious issue. If he accepted her offer, and the resultof this enterprise were disaster, what would Miss Sherwood then think ofhim?

He took refuge in evasion. "I'm not going to try to tell you how muchI appreciate your proposition, Miss Sherwood. But do you mind if I holdback my answer for the present and think it over? Anyhow, to do allthat is required I must be able to work in the open--and I can't dothat until I get free of my entanglements with the police and my oldacquaintances. "

Thus it was agreed upon. Miss Sherwood turned to another subject. Thepre-public show of Hunt's pictures had opened the previous day. 

"When you were in the city yesterday, did you get in to see Mr. Hunt'sexhibition?"

"No, " he answered. "Although I wanted to. But you know I've already seenall of Mr. Hunt's pictures that Mr. Graham has in his gallery. How wasthe opening?"

"Crowded with guests. And since they had been told that the pictureswere unusual and good, of course the people were enthusiastic. "

"What kind of prices was Mr. Graham quoting?"

"He wasn't quoting any. He told me he wasn't going to sell a picture, or even mention a price, until the public exhibition. He's veryenthusiastic. He thinks Mr. Hunt is already made--and in a big way. "

And then she added, her level gaze very steady on Larry:

"Of course Mr. Hunt is really a great painter. But he needed a jolt tomake him go out and really paint his own kind of stuff. And he neededsome one like you to put him across in a business way. "

When she left, she left Larry thinking: thinking of her saying thatHunt "needed a jolt to make him go out and really paint his own kindof stuff. " Hidden behind that remark somewhere could there be theexplanation for the break between these two? Larry began to see aglimmer of light. It was entirely possible that Miss Sherwood, in sofinished and adroit a manner that Hunt had not discerned her purpose, had herself given him this jolt or at least contributed to its force. Itmight all have been diplomacy on her part, applied shrewdly to theman she understood and loved. Yes, that might be the explanation. Yes, perhaps she had been doing in a less trying way just what he was seekingto do under more stressful circumstances with Maggie: to arouse him tohis best by indirectly working at definite psychological reactions. 

That afternoon Hunt appeared at Cedar Crest, and while there dropped inon Larry. The big painter, in his full-blooded, boyish fashion, fairlygasconaded over the success of his exhibit. Larry smiled at the other'sexuberant enthusiasm. Hunt was one man who could boast without everbeing offensively egotistical, for Hunt, added to his other gifts, hadthe divine gift of being able to laugh at himself. 

Larry saw here an opportunity to forward that other ambition of his:the bringing of Hunt and Miss Sherwood together. And at this instantit flashed upon him that Miss Sherwood's seemingly casual remarks aboutHunt had not been casual at all. Perhaps they had been carefully thoughtout and spoken with a definite purpose. Perhaps Miss Sherwood had beenvery subtly appointing him her ambassador. She was clever enough forthat. 

"Stop declaiming those self-written press notices of your unapproachablesuperiority, " Larry interrupted. "If you use your breath up like thatyou'll drown on dry land. Besides, I just heard something better thanthis mere articulated air of yours. Better because from a person in hersenses. "

"Heard it from whom?"

"Miss Sherwood. "

"Miss Sherwood! What did she say?"

"That you were a really great painter. "

"Huh!" snorted Hunt. "Why shouldn't she say that? I've proved it!"

"Hunt, " said Larry evenly, "you are the greatest painter I ever met, but you also have the distinction of being the greatest of all damnedfools. "

"What's that, young fellow?"

"You love Miss Sherwood, don't you? At least you've the same as told methat in words, and you've told me that in loud-voiced actions every timeyou've seen her. "

"Well--what if I do?"

"If you had the clearness of vision that is in the glassy eye of a coldboiled lobster you would see that she feels the same way about you. "

"See here, Larry"--all the boisterous quality had gone from Hunt'svoice, and it was low-pitched and a bit unsteady--"I don't mind yourjoshing me about myself or my painting, but don't fool with me aboutanything that's really important. "

"I'm not fooling you. I'm sure Miss Sherwood feels that way. "

"How do you know?"

"I've got a pair of eyes that don't belong to a cold boiled lobster. Andwhen I see a thing, I know I see it. "

"You're all wrong, Larry. If you'd heard what she said to me less than ayear ago--"

"You make me tired!" interrupted Larry. "You two were made for eachother. She's waiting for you to step up and talk man's talk to her--andinstead you sulk in your tent and mumble about something you think shemight have thought or said a year ago! You're too sensitive; you're tooproud; you've got too few brains. It's a million dollars to one that inyour handsome, well-bred way you've fallen out with her over somethingthat probably never existed and certainly doesn't exist now. Forget itall, and walk right up and ask her!"

"Larry, if I thought there was a chance that you are right--"

"A single question will prove whether I'm right!"

Hunt did not speak for a moment. "I guess I've never seen my part of itall in the way you put it, Larry. " He stood up, his whole being subduedyet tense. "I'm going to slide back into town and think it all over. "

Larry followed him an hour later, bent on routine business of theSherwood estate. Toward seven o'clock he was studying the presentdecrepitude and future possibilities of a row of Sherwood apartmenthouses on the West Side, when, as he came out of one building andstarted into another, a firm hand fell upon his shoulder and a voiceremarked:

"So, Larry, you're in New York?"

Larry whirled about. For the moment he felt all the life go out of him. Beside him stood Detective Casey, whom he had last seen on the nightof his wild flight when Casey had feigned a knockout in order to aidLarry's escape from Gavegan. Any other man affiliated with his enemiesLarry would have struck down and tried to break away from. But notCasey. 

"Hello, Casey. Well, I suppose you're going to invite me to go alongwith you?"

"Where were you going?"

"Into this house. "

"Then I'll invite myself to go along with you. "

He quickly pushed Larry before him into the hallway, which was emptysince all the tenants were at their dinner. Larry remembered the scenedown in Deputy Police Commissioner Barlow's office, when the Chief ofDetectives had demanded that he become a stool-pigeon working underGavegan and Casey, and the grilling and the threats, more thanfulfilled, which had followed. 

"Going to give me a little private quiz first, Casey, " he asked, "andthen call in Gavegan and lead me down to Barlow?"

"Not unless Gavegan or some one else saw and recognized you, whichI know they didn't since I was watching for that very thing. And notunless you yourself feel hungry for a visit to Headquarters. "

"If I feel hungry, it's an appetite I'm willing to make wait. "

"You know I don't want to pinch you. My part in this has been a dirtyjob that was just pushed my way. You know that I know you've been framedand double-crossed, and that I won't run you in unless I can't get outof it. "

"Thanks, Casey. You're too white to have to run with people like Barlowand Gavegan. But if it wasn't to pinch me, why did you stop me out therein the street?"

"Been hoping I might some day run into you on the quiet. There are somethings I've learned--never mind how--that I wanted to slip you for yourown good. "

"Go to it, Casey. "

"First, I've got a hunch that it was Barney Palmer who tipped off thepolice about Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt, and then spread it amongall the crooks that you were the stool and squealer. "

"Yes, I'd guessed that much. "

"Second, I've got a hunch that it really was from Barney Palmer thatBarlow got his idea of making you become a stool-pigeon. Barney is asmooth one all right, and he figured what would happen. He knew youwould refuse, and he knew Barlow would uncork hell beneath you. Barneycertainly called every turn. "

"What--what--" stammered Larry. "Why, then Barney must be--" He paused, utterly astounded by the newness of the possibility that had just risenin his mind. 

"You've got it, Larry, " Casey went on. "Barney is a police stool. Hasbeen one for years. Works directly for Barlow. We're not supposed toknow anything about it. He's turned up a lot of big ones. That's whyit's safe for Barney to pull off anything he likes. "

"Barney a police stool!" Larry repeated in the stupor of his amazement. 

"Guess that's all the news I wanted to hand you, Larry, so I'll be on myway. Here's wishing you luck--and for God's sake, don't let yourself bepinched by us. So-long. " And with that Casey slipped out of the hallway. 

For a moment Larry stood moveless where Casey had left him. Then fiercepurpose, and a cautious recklessness, surged up and took mastery of him. It had required what Casey had told him to end his irksome waiting andwavering. No longer could he remain in his hiding-place, safe himself, trying to save Maggie by slow, indirect endeavor. The time had now comefor very different methods. The time had come to step forth into theopen, taking, of course, no unnecessary risk, and to have it out face toface with his enemies, who were also Maggie's real enemies, though shecounted them her friends--to save Maggie against her own will, if hecould save her in no other way. 

And having so decided, Larry walked quickly out of the hallway into thestreet. 

CHAPTER XXVII

On the sidewalk Larry glanced swiftly around him. Half a block down thestreet on the front of a drug-store was a blue telephone flag. A minutelater he was inside a telephone booth in the drug-store, asking firstfor the Hotel Grantham, and then asking the Grantham operator to beconnected with Miss Maggie Cameron. 

There was a long wait. While he listened for Maggie's voice he blazedwith terrible fury against Barney Paler. For Maggie to be connected witha straight crook, that idea had been bad enough. But for her to be underthe influence of the worst crook of all, a stool, a cunning traitor tohis own friends--that was more than could possibly be stood! In his ragein Maggie's behalf he forgot for the moment the many evils Barney haddone to himself. He thought of wild, incoherent, vaguely tremendousplans. First he would get Maggie away from Barney and OldJimmie--somehow. Then he would square accounts with those two--again byan undefined somehow. 

Presently the tired, impersonal voice of the Grantham operator remarkedagainst his ear-drum: "Miss Cameron don't answer. "

"Have her paged, please, " he requested. 

Larry, of course, could not know that his telephone call was the veryone which had rung in Maggie's room while Barney and Old Jimmiewere with her, and which Barney had harshly forbidden her to answer. Therefore he could not know that any attempt to get Maggie by telephonejust then was futile. 

When he came out of the booth, the impersonal voice having informedhim that Miss Cameron was not in, it was with the intention of callingMaggie up between eight and nine when she probably would have returnedfrom dinner where he judged her now to be. He knew that Dick Sherwoodhad no engagement with her, for Dick was to be out at Cedar Crest thatevening, so he judged it almost certain Maggie would be at home andalone later on. 

Having nothing else to do for an hour and a half, he thought of a notehe had received from the Duchess in that morning's mail asking him tocome down to see her when he was next in town. Thirty minutes later hewas in the familiar room behind the pawnshop. The Duchess asked himif he had eaten, and on his reply that he had not and did not careto, instead of proceeding to the business of her letter she mumbledsomething and went into the pawnshop. 

She left Larry for the very simple reason that now that she had himhere she was uncertain what she should say, and how far she should go. Unknown to either, one thread of the drama of Larry and Maggie was beingspun in the brain and heart of the Duchess; and being spun with painto her, and in very great doubt. True, she had definitely decided, forLarry's welfare, that the facts about Maggie's parentage should never beknown from her--and since the only other person who could tell the truthwas Jimmie Carlisle, and his interests were all apparently in favor ofsilence, then it followed that the truth would never be known from anyone. But having so decided, and decided definitely and finally, theDuchess had proceeded to wonder if she had decided wisely. 

Day and night this had been the main subject of her thought. Could shebe wrong in her estimate of Maggie's character, and what she might turnout to be? Could she be wrong in her belief that, given enough time, Larry would outgrow his infatuation for Maggie? And since she was insuch doubt about these two points, had she any right, and was it for thebest, to suppress a fact that might so gravely influence both matters?She did not know. What she wanted was whatever was best for Larry--andso in her doubt she had determined to talk again to Larry, hoping thatthe interview might in some way replace her uncertainty with stabilityof purpose. 

Presently she returned to the inner room, and in her direct wayand using the fewest possible words, which had created for her herreputation of a woman who never spoke and who was packed with strangesecrets, she asked Larry what he had done concerning Maggie. He toldher of the plan he had evolved, of Maggie's visit to Cedar Crest, ofhis ignorance of Maggie's reactions. To all this his grandmother maderesponse neither by word nor by change of expression. He then went on totell her of what he had just learned from Casey of Barney's maneuveringhis misfortunes. 

The old head nodded. "Yes, Barney's just that sort, " she said in herflat monotone. 

And then she came to the purpose of her sending for him. "How do youfeel about Maggie now?"

"The same as before. "

"You love her?"

"Yes--and always will, " he said firmly. 

She was silent once more. Then, "What are you going to do next?"

"Break things up between her and Barney and her father. Get her awayfrom them. "

She asked no further questions. Larry was as settled as a man couldbe. But was Maggie worth while?--that was the great question stillunanswered. 

"Just what did you want me for, grandmother?" he asked her finally. 

"Something which I thought might have developed, but which hasn't. "

And so she let him go away without telling him. And wishing to shapethings for the best for him, she was troubled by the same doubts asbefore. 

His visit with his grandmother had had no meaning to Larry, since hehad no guess of the struggle going on within that ancient, inscrutablefigure. The visit had for him merely served to fill in a nervous, useless hour. His rage against Barney had all the while possessed himtoo thoroughly for him to give more than the mere surface of his mindto what had passed between his grandmother and himself. And when he hadleft her, his rage at Barney's treachery and his impetuous desire tosnatch Maggie away from her present influences, so stormed within himthat his usually cautious judgment was blown away and recklessness sweptlike a gale into control of him. 

When he called up the Grantham a second time, at nine o'clock, Maggie'svoice came to him:

"Hello. Who this, please?"

"Mr. Brandon. "

He heard a stilted "Oh!" at the other end of the line "I'm coming rightup to see you, " he said. 

"I--I don't think you--"

"I'll be there in then minutes, " Larry interrupted the startled voiceand hung up. 

He counted that Maggie, after his sparing her at Cedar Crest, wouldreceive him and treat him at least no worse than an enemy with whomthere was a half hour's truce. Sure enough, when he rang the bell of hersuite, Maggie herself admitted him to her sitting-room. She was taut andpale, her look neither friendly nor unfriendly. 

"Don't you know the risk you're running, " she whispered when the doorwas closed--"coming here like this, in the open?"

"The time has come for risks, Maggie, " he announced. 

"But you were safe enough where you were. Why take such risks?"

"For your sake. "

"My sake?"

"To take you away from these people you're tied up with. Take you awaynow. "

At an earlier time this would have been a fuse to a detonation ofdefiance from her. But now she said nothing at all, and that wassomething. 

"Since I've come out into the open, everything's going to be in theopen. Listen, Maggie!" The impulse had suddenly come upon him, sincehis plan to awaken Maggie by her psychological reactions had apparentlyfailed, to tell her everything. "Listen, Maggie! I'm going to lay allmy cards on the table, and show you every card I've played. You wereinvited to come out to Cedar Crest because I schemed to have you come. And the reason I schemed to have you invited was, I reasoned that beingreceived in such a frank, generous, unsuspecting way, by a woman likeMiss Sherwood, would make you sick of what you were doing and you woulddrop it of your own accord. But it seems I reasoned wrong. "

"So--you were behind that!" she breathed. 

"I was. Though I couldn't have done it if Dick Sherwood hadn't beenhonestly infatuated with you. But now I'm through with working undercover, through with indirect methods. From now on every play's in theopen, and it's straight to the point with everything. So get ready. I'mgoing to take you away from Barney and Old Jimmie. "

The mention of these two names had a swift and magical effect upon her. But instead of arousing belligerency, they aroused an almost franticagitation. 

"You must leave at once, Larry. Barney and my father were here beforedinner, and they've just telephoned they were coming back!"

"Coming back! That's the best argument you could make for my staying!"

"But, Larry--they both have keys, and Barney always carries a gun!"

"I stay here, unless you leave with me. Listen to some more, Maggie. Ilaid all the cards on the table. Do you know the kind of people you'retied up with? I'll not say anything about your father, for I guess youknow all there is to know. But Barney Palmer! He's the lowest kind ofcrook that breathes. There's been a lot of talk about squealers andpolice stools. Well, the big squealer, the big stool, is Barney Palmer!"

"I don't believe it!" she cried involuntarily. 

"It's true! I've got it straight. Barney wanted to smash me, because I'dmade up my mind to quit the old game and because he wanted to get meout of his way with you. So he framed it up so that I appeared to be asquealer, and started the gangmen after me. And he put Barlow up to theidea of forcing me to be a stool, and then framing me when I refused. It was Barney who fixed things so I had to go to jail, or be shot up, or run away. It was Barney Palmer who squealed on Red Hannigan and JackRosenfeldt, and who's been squealing on his other pals. And that's thesort you're stringing along with!"

She gazed at him in appalled half conviction. He remained silent to lethis truth sink in. 

They were standing so, face to face, when a key grated in the outer doorof the little hallway as on the occasion of Larry's first visit here. And as on that occasion, Maggie sprang swiftly forward and shot home thebolt of the inner door. Then she turned and caught Larry's arm. 

"It's Barney--I told you he was coming!" she whispered. "Oh, why didn'tyou go before? Come on!"

She tried to drag him toward her bedroom door, through which she hadonce helped him escape. But this time he was not to be moved. 

"I stay right here, " he said to her. 

There was the sound of a futile effort to turn the lock of the innerdoor; then Barney's voice called out: "What's the matter, Maggie? Openthe door. "

Maggie, still clutching Larry's resisting arm, stood gasping inwide-eyed consternation. 

"Open the door for them, Maggie, " Larry whispered. 

"I'll not do it!" she whispered back. 

"Open it, or I will, " he ordered. 

Their gazes held a moment longer while Barney rattled at the lock. Thenslowly, falteringly, her amazed eyes over her shoulder upon him, Maggiecrossed and unlocked the door. Barney entered, Old Jimmie just bend him. 

"I say, Maggie, what was the big idea in keeping us--" he was beginningin a grumbling tone, when he saw Larry just beyond her. His complaintbroke off in mid-breath; he stopped short and his dark face twitchedwith his surprise. 

"Larry Brainard!" he finally exclaimed. Old Jimmie, suddenly tense, blinked and said nothing. 

"Hello, Barney; hello, Jimmie, " Larry greeted his former allies, puttingon an air of geniality. "Been a long time since we three met. Don'tstand there in the door. Come right in. "

Barney was keen enough to see, though Larry's attitude was careless andhis tone light, that his eyes were bright and hard. Barney moved forwarda couple of paces, alert for anything, and Old Jimmie followed. Maggie looked on at the three men, her girlish figure taut and hardlybreathing. 

"Didn't know you were in New York, " said Barney. 

"Well, here I am all right, " returned Larry with his menacingcheerfulness. 

By now Barney had recovered from his first surprise. He felt it time toassert his supremacy. 

"How do you come to be here with Maggie?" he demanded abruptly. 

"Happened to catch sight of her on the street to-day. Trailed her hereto the Grantham, and to-night I just dropped in. "

Barney's tone grew more authoritative, more ugly. "We told you long agowe were through with you. So why did you come here?"

"That's easy answered, Barney. The last time we were all together, you'dcome to take Maggie away. This is that same scene reproduced--only thistime I've come to take Maggie away. "

"What's that?" snapped Barney. 

Larry's voice threw off its assumed geniality, and became drivinglyhard. "And to get Maggie to come, I've been telling her the kind of abird you are, Barney Palmer! Oh, I've got the straight dope on you! I'vebeen telling her how you framed me, and were able to frame me becauseyou are Chief Barlow's stool. "

Barney went as near white as it was possible for him to become, and hismouth sagged. "What--what--" he stammered. 

"I've been telling her that you are the one who really squealed on RedHannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt. "

"You're a damned liar!" Barney burst out, and instantly from beneathhis left arm he whipped an automatic which he thrust against Larry'sstomach. "Take that back, damn you, or I'll blow you straight to hell!"

"Barney!--Larry!" interjected Maggie in sickened fright. 

"This is nothing to worry over, Maggie, " Larry said. He looked back atBarney. "Oh, I knew you would flash a gun on me at some stage of thegame. But you're not going to shoot. "

"You'll see, if you don't take that back!"

Larry realized that his hot blood had driven him into an enterprise ofdaring, in which only bluff and the playing of his highest cards couldhelp him through. 

"You don't think I was such a fool as to walk into this place withouttaking precautions, " he said contemptuously. "You won't shoot, Barney, because since I knew I might meet you and you'd pull a gun, I had myselfsearched by two friends just before I came up here. They'll testify Iwas not armed. They know you, and know you so well that they'll be ableto identify the thing in your hand as your gun. So no matter what Maggieand Jimmie may testify, the verdict will be cold-blooded murder andthe electric chair will be your finish. And that's why I know you won'tshoot. So you might as well put the gun away. "

Barney neither spoke nor moved. 

"I've called your bluff, Barney, " Larry said sharply. "Put that gunaway, or I'll take it from you!"

Barney's glare wavered. The pistol sank from its position. With alightning-swift motion Larry wrenched it from Barney's hand. 

"Guess I'd better have it, after all, " he said, slipping it into apocket. "Keep you out of temptation. "

And then in a subdued voice that was steely with menace: "I'm too busyto attend to you now, Barney--but, by God, I'm going to square thingswith you for the dirt you've done me, and I'm going to show you up fora stool and a squealer!" He wheeled on Old Jimmie. "And the only reasonI'll be easy with you, Jimmie Carlisle, is because you are Maggie'sfather--though you're the rottenest thing as a father God ever letbreathe!"

Old Jimmie shrank slightly before Larry's glower, and his little eyesgleamed with the fear of a rat that is cornered. But he said nothing. 

Larry turned his back upon the two men. "We're through with this bunch, Maggie. Put on a hat and a wrap, and let's go. We can send for yourthings. "

"No you don't, Maggie, " snarled Barney, before Maggie could speak. 

Old Jimmie made his first positive motion since entering the room. Heshifted quickly to Maggie's side and seized her arm. 

"You're my daughter, and you stay with me!" he ordered. "I broughtyou up, and you do exactly what I tell you to! You're not going withLarry--he's lying about Barney. You stay with me!"

"Come on, let's go, Maggie, " repeated Larry. 

"You stay with me!" repeated Jimmie. 

Thus ordered and appealed to, Maggie was areel with contradictingthoughts and impulses while the three men awaited her action. In factshe had no clear thought at all. She never knew later what determinedher course at this bewildered moment: perhaps it was partly acontinuance of her doubt of Larry, perhaps partly once more sheermomentum, perhaps her instinctive feeling that her place was with theman she believed to be her father. 

"Yes, I'll stay with you, " she said to Old Jimmie. 

"That's the signal for you to be on your way, Larry Brainard!" Barneysnapped at him triumphantly. 

Larry realized, all of a sudden, that his coming here was no more thana splendid gesture to which his anger had excited him. Indeed there wasnothing for him but to be on his way. 

"I've told you the truth, Maggie; and you'll be sorry that you have notleft--if not sorry soon, then sorry a little later. "

He turned to Barney with a last shot; he could not leave the gloatingBarney Palmer his unalloyed triumph. "I told you I had the straight dopeon you, Barney. Here's some more of it. I know exactly what your gameis, and I know exactly who your sucker is. We'll see if you put itover--you squealer! Good-night, all. "

With that Larry walked out. Old Jimmie regarded his partner withsuspicion. 

"How about that, Barney--you being a stool and a squealer?" he demanded. 

"I tell you it's all a lie--a damned lie!" cried Barney with feverishemphasis. 

"I hope it is!" breathed Old Jimmie. 

This was a subject Barney wanted to get away from. "Maggie, " hedemanded, "is what Larry Brainard said about how he came here thetruth?--his seeing you on the street and then following you here?"

"How do I know where he first saw me?"

"But is to-night the first time you've seen him?"

"It is. "

"Sure you haven't been seeing him?" demanded Barney's quick jealousy. 

"I have not. "

"Did he tell you where he came from?--where he hangs out?"

"No. "

Old Jimmie interrupted this cross-examination. 

"You're wasting good time asking these questions. Barney, do you realizethe cold fact that it's not a good thing for you, nor for us, for LarryBrainard to be back in New York, floating around as he pleases?"

"I should say not!" Barney saw he was facing a sudden crisis, and in theneed for quick action he spoke without thought of Maggie. "We've got tolook after him at once!"

"Tell the bunch he's back, and let them take care of him?" suggested OldJimmie. 

Barney considered rapidly. If Larry knew of his arrangement with thepolice, then perhaps his secret was beginning to leak through to others. He decided that for the present it would be wiser to keep from these oldfriends and allies. 

"Not the bunch--the police!" he said inspiredly. "They're after him, anyhow, and are sore. All we've got to do is slip them word--they'll dothe rest!" And then with the sharper emphasis of an immediate plan: "Wedon't want to lose a minute. I know where Gavegan hangs out at this timeof night. Come on!"

With a bare "Good-night" to Maggie the two men hurried forth on theirpressing mission. Left to herself, Maggie sank into a chair and wildlyconsidered the many elements of this new situation. Presently twothoughts emerged to dominance: Whether Larry was right or wrong, he hadrisked coming out of his safety for her sake--perhaps had risked all hehad won for her sake. And now the police were to be set after him, withthat Gavegan heading the pack. 

Perhaps the further thinking Maggie did did not result in cool, maturewisdom--for her thoughts were the operations of a panicky mind. Somehowshe had to get warning to Larry of this imminent police hunt! Withoutdoubt Larry would return to Cedar Crest sometime that night. Word shouldbe sent to him there. A letter was too uncertain in such a crisis. Of course she had an invitation to go to Cedar Crest the followingafternoon, and she might warn him then--but that might be too late. She dared not telephone or telegraph--for that might somehow directdangerous attention to the exact spot where Larry was hidden. Also shehad an instinct, operating unconsciously long before she had any thoughtof what she was eventually to do, not to let Barney or Old Jimmie findout, or even guess, that she had warned Larry--not yet. 

There seemed nothing that she herself could do. Then she thought of theDuchess. That was the way out! The Duchess would know some way in whichto get Larry word. 

Five minutes later, in her plainest suit and hat, Maggie in a taxicabwas rolling down toward the Duchess's--from where, only a few monthsback, she had started forth upon her great career. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

Old Jimmie did not like meeting the police any oftener than a meetingwas forced upon him, and so he slipped away and allowed Barney Palmerto undertake alone the business of settling Larry. Barney found Gaveganexactly where he had counted: lingering over his late dinner in the cafeof a famous Broadway restaurant--a favorite with some of the detectivesand higher officials of the Police Department--in which cafe, in happierdays now deeply mourned, Gavegan had had all the exhilaration he wantedto drink at the standing invitation of the proprietor, and where evenyet on occasion a bit of the old exhilaration was brought to Gavegan'stable in a cup or served him in a room above to which he had hadwhispered instructions to retire. The proprietor had in the old daysliked to stand well with the police; and though his bar was now devotedto legal drinks--or at least obliging Federal officers reported it tobe--he still liked to stand well with the police. 

Gavegan was at a table with a minor producer of musical shows, towhom Barney had been of occasional service in securing the predominantessential of such music--namely, shapely young women. Barney noddedto Gavegan, chatted for a few minutes with his musical-comedy friend, during which he gave Gavegan a signal, then crossed to the once-crowdedbar, now sunk to isolation and the lowly estate of soft drinks, andordered a ginger ale. Not until then did he notice Barlow, chief of theDetective Bureau, at a corner table. Barney gave no sign of recognition, and Barlow, after a casual glance at him, returned to his food. 

Barney, in solitude at one end of the bar, slowly sipped with a sort ofindignation against his kickless purchase. Presently Gavegan was besidehim, having most convincing ill-luck in his attempts to light his cigarfrom a box of splintering safety matches which stood at that end of thebar. 

"Well, what is it?" Gavegan whispered out of that corner of his mouthwhich was not occupied by his cigar. He did not look at Barney. 

"Any clue to Larry Brainard yet?" Barney whispered also out of a cornerof his mouth, glass at his lips. Like-wise he seemed not to notice theman beside him. 

"Naw! Still out West somewhere. Them Chicago bums couldn't catch a crookif he walked along State Street with a sign-board on him!"

"Saw Larry Brainard to-night. "

Gavegan had difficulty in maintaining his attitude of non-awareness ofhis bar-mate. 

"Where?"

"Right here in New York. "

"What! Where'd you see him?"

"Coming out of the Grantham. "

"When?"

"Fifteen minutes ago. "

"Know where he went to?--where he hangs out?--know anything else?"

"That's everything. Thought I'd better slip it to you as quick as Icould. "

"This time that bird'll not get away!" growled Gavegan, still in awhisper. "Twenty-four hours and he'll be in the cooler!"

Finally Gavegan managed to get a flame from one of those irritatinglysplintery Swedish matches made in Japan. Cigar alight he walked over toBarlow's table. He conversed with his Chief a moment or two, then wentout. After a minute Barney saw Chief Barlow crossing toward the bar. Barney seemed not to notice this movement. Barlow likewise paused besidehim to light a cigar; and from the side of the Chief's mouth thereissued: "Room 613. "

Barlow passed on. Presently Barney finished the dreary drudgery ofdrink and sauntered out. Five minutes later, having exercised the propercaution, he was in Room 613, and the door was locked. 

"What's this dope you just handed Gavegan about Larry Brainard?"demanded Barlow. 

Barney gave his information, again, but this time more fully. Of coursehe omitted all mention of Maggie and the enterprise which Larry hadsought to interrupt; it was part of the tacit understanding betweenthese two that Barlow should have no knowledge of Barney's professionaldoings, unless such knowledge should be forced upon him by events orpeople too strong to be ignored. 

"Did Brainard drop any clue that might give us a lead as to where he'shiding out?"

Barney remembered something Larry had said half an hour before, which hehad considered mere boasting. "He said he knew I had some game on, andhe said he knew who the sucker was I was planning to trim. "

"Did he say who the sucker was?"

"No. "

"If Larry Brainard really did know, then who would he be having inmind?"

Barney hesitated; but he perceived that this was a question which hadto be answered. "Young Dick Sherwood, of the swell Sherwood family--youknow. "

Barlow did not pursue the subject. According to his arrangement withBarney, the latter's private activities were none of his business. 

"I'll get busy with the drag-net; we'll land Brainard this time, " saidBarlow. And then with a grim look at Barney: "But Larry Brainard's notwhat I got you up here to talk about, Palmer. I wanted to talk about twowords to you--and say 'em to you right between your eyes. "

"Go ahead, Chief. "

"First, you ain't been worth a damn to me for several months. You'vegiven me no value received for me keeping my men off of you. You haven'tturned up a single thing. "

"Come, now, Chief--you're forgetting about Red Hannigan and JackRosenfeldt. "

"Chicken feed! They're out on bail, and when their cases come up, they'll beat them! Besides, you didn't give me that tip to help me; yougave it to me so that you could fix things to put Larry Brainard in badwith all his old friends. You did that to help yourself. Shut up! Don'ttry to deny it. I know!"

Barney did not attempt denial. Barlow went on:

"And the second thing I want to tell you, and tell you hard, is this:You gotta turn in some business! The easy way you've been going makesit look like you've forgot I've got hold of you where the hair's long. Young man, you'd better remember that I've got you cold for that Gregorystock business--you and Old Jimmie Carlisle. Got all the papers in asafety-deposit vault, and got three witnesses doing stretches in SingSing. Keep on telling yourself all that! and keep on telling yourselfthat, if you don't come across, some day soon I'll suddenly discoverthat you're the guilty party in that Gregory affair, and I'll bring downthose witnesses I've got cached in Sing Sing. "

Barney moved uneasily in his chair. He knew the bargain he had made, anddid not like to dwell upon the conditions under which he was a licensedadventurer. 

"No need to rag me like this, Chief, " he protested. "Sure I remember allyou've said. And you're not going to have cause to be sore much longer. There'll be plenty doing. "

"See that there is! And see that you don't pull any raw work. And seethat you don't let your foot slip. For if you do, you know what'llhappen to you. Now get out!"

Barney got out, again protesting that he would not be found failing. Hewas not greatly disturbed by what Barlow had said. Every so often therehad to be just such sessions, and every so often Barlow had to let offjust such steam. 

Barney's errand was done. The police of the city were on Larry's trailand his share in the matter was and would remain unknown. Thus far allwas well. He had no doubt of Larry's early capture, now that he wasback in New York, and now that the whole police force had been promptlywarned and were hotly after him, and now that all avenues of exit wouldinstantly be, in fact by this time were, under surveillance and closedagainst him--and now that every refuge of the criminal world was only atrap for him. No, there wasn't a doubt of Larry's early capture. Therecouldn't be. And once Larry was locked up, things would be much better. Barlow would see that Larry didn't talk undesirable things, or at leastthat such talk was not heard. It wasn't exactly pleasant or safe havingLarry at large, free to blurt out to the wrong persons those thingsabout Barney's being a stool and a squealer. 

Greatly comforted, though eager for news of the chase, Barney startedon his evening's routine of visiting the gayer restaurants. Business isbusiness, and a man suffers when he neglects it. True, this was a neatproposition which he had in hand; but that would soon be cleaned up, andBusinessman Barney desired to be all ready to move forward into furtherenterprises. 

In the meanwhile there had been a session between Maggie and theDuchess. At about the time Barney had whispered his unlipped news toGavegan, Maggie, breathless with her frantic haste though she had madethe journey in a taxicab, entered the familiar room behind the pawnshop. 

"Good-evening, Maggie. " The voice was casual, indifferent, thoughat that moment there was no person that the Duchess, pondering herproblems, more wished to see. "Sit down. What's the matter?"

"The police know Larry is in New York and are after him!"

"How do you know?"

Rapidly Maggie told of the happenings in her sitting-room, and of Barneyand Old Jimmie starting out to warn Gavegan. The Duchess heard everyword, but most of her faculties were concentrated upon a reexaminationof Maggie and upon those questions which had been troubling her allevening and for these many days. Was there good in Maggie? Was shejustified in longer suppressing the truth of Maggie's parentage?

"Why are you telling me all this?" the Duchess asked, when Maggie hadfinished her rapid recital. 

"Why! Isn't it plain? I want you to get warning to Larry that the policeare after him!"

"Why not do it yourself?"

"I'm going out where he is to-morrow, but that may be too late. "

Maggie gave her other reasons, such as they were. The old woman's eyesnever left Maggie's flushed face, and yet never showed any interest. 

"I thought you were tied up with Barney and Old Jimmie, " the Duchesscommented. "Why are you going against them in this, and trying to helpLarry?"

"What's the difference why I'm doing it, " Maggie cried with feverishimpatience, "so long as I'm trying to help him out of this!"

"Don't you realize, " continued the calm old voice, "that Larry mustalready know, as a matter of course, that the police and all the oldcrowd are after him?"

"Perhaps he does, and perhaps he doesn't. All the same, he should knowfor certain! The big point is, will you get Larry word?"

A moment passed and the Duchess did not speak. In fact this time she hadnot heard Maggie, so intent was she in trying to look through Maggie'sdark, eager eyes to the very core of Maggie's being. 

"Will you get Larry word?" Maggie repeated impatiently. 

The Duchess came out of her study. There was a sudden thrill within her, but it did not show in her voice. 

"Yes. "

"At once?"

"As soon as telling him will do any good. And now you better hurry backto your hotel, if you don't want Barney and Old Jimmie to suspect whatyou've been up to. Though why you still want to hang on to that pair, knowing what they are, is more than I can guess. "

She stood up. "Wait a minute, " she said as Maggie started for the door. Maggie turned back, and for another moment the Duchess silently peereddeep into Maggie's eyes. Then she said shortly, almost sharply: "At yourage I was twice as pretty as you are--and twice as clever--and I playedmuch the same game. Look what I got out of life!... Good-night. " Andabruptly the Duchess wheeled about and mounted the stairway. 

Twenty minutes later Maggie was back at the Grantham, her absenceunobserved. Though palpitant over Larry's fate, she had the satisfactionof having achieved with Larry's grandmother what she had set forth toachieve. She did not know, could not know, that what she had accepted asher achievement was inconsequential compared to what had actually beenachieved by her spontaneous appearance before the troubled Duchess. 

CHAPTER XXIX

As the Duchess had gazed into Maggie's excited, imploring eyes, it hadbeen borne in upon her carefully judging and painfully hesitant mindthat there was better than a fifty per cent chance that Larry was rightin his estimate of Maggie; that Maggie's inclination toward criminaladventure, her supreme self-confidence, all her bravado, were butthe superficial though strong tendencies developed by her unfortunateenvironment; that within that cynical, worldly shell there were thevital and plastic makings of a real woman. 

And so the long-troubled Duchess, who to her acquaintances had alwaysseemed as unemotional as the dust-coated, moth-eaten parrot which stoodin mummified aloofness upon her safe, had made a momentous decision thathad sent through her old veins the thrilling sap of a great crisis, agreat suspense. She had tried to guide destiny. She was now throughwith such endeavor. She had no right, because of her love for Larry, towithhold longer the facts of Maggie's parentage. She was now going totell the truth, and let events work out as they would. 

But the events--what were they going to be?

For a moment the Duchess had been impelled to tell the truth straightout to Maggie. But she had caught herself in time. This whole affair wasLarry's affair, and the truth belonged to him to be used as he saw fit. So when she had told Maggie that she would get word to Larry, it wasthis truth which she had had in mind, and only in a very minor way thenews which Maggie had brought. 

This was, of course, such a truth as could be safely communicated onlyby word of mouth. The Duchess realized that Larry no longer dared cometo her, and that therefore she must manage somehow to get to him. Andget to him without betraying his whereabouts. 

There was little chance that the police would search her place orgreatly bother her. To the police mind, now that Larry was aware he wasknown to be in New York, the pawnshop would obviously be the last placein which he would seek refuge or through which he would have dealings. Nevertheless, the Duchess deemed it wise to lose no moment and toneglect no possible caution. Therefore, while Barney was still withChief Barlow and before the general order regarding Larry had more thanreached the various police stations, the Duchess, in cape, hat, andveil, was out of her house. A block up the street lived the owner oftwo or three taxicabs, concerning whom the Duchess, who was almostomniscient in her own world, knew much that the said owner ardentlydesired should be known no further. A few sentences with this gentleman, and fifteen minutes later, huddled back in the darkened corner of ataxicab, she rolled over the Queensboro Bridge out upon Long Island onher mission of releasing a fact whose effect she could not foresee. 

An hour and a half after that Larry was leading her to a bench inthe scented darkness of the Sherwoods' lawn. She had telephoned "Mr. Brandon" from a drug-store booth in Flushing, and Larry had been waitingfor her near the entrance to Cedar Crest. 

"What brought you out here like this, grandmother?" Larry whispered inamazement as he sat down beside her. 

"To tell you that the police are after you, " she whispered back. 

"I knew that already. "

"Yes, I knew that you would. "

"But how did you find out?"

"Maggie told me. "

"Maggie!"

"She came down to see me, told me what had just happened at her place, told me about Barney hurrying away to slip the news to that Gavegan, andbegged me to warn you at once. She was terribly nervous and wrought up. "

"Maggie did that!" he breathed. His heart leaped at her unexpectedconcern for him. "Maggie did that!" And then: "There wasn't any need;she should have known that I would know. "

"It was rather foolish in a way--but Maggie was too excited to use coolreason. "

His grandmother did not speak for a moment. "Her losing her head andcoming shows that she cares for you, Larry. "

He could make no response. This was indeed the clearest evidence Maggiehad yet given that possibly she might care. 

"Maggie may have lost her head in her excitement, " he managed to say;"but, grandmother, there was no reason for you to lose your head so faras to come away out here to tell me about the police. "

"I didn't come away out here to tell you about the police, " she replied. "I came to tell you something else. "

"Yes?"

"You're sure you really care for Maggie?"

"I told you that when I was down to see you this evening. "

Though the Duchess had decided, the desire to protect Larry remainedtenaciously in her and made it hard for her jealous love to take arisk. "You're sure she might turn out all right--that is, under betterinfluences?"

"I'm sure, grandmother. " He recalled how a few hours earlier at theGrantham the demand of Old Jimmie that she remain with him had seemedthe force that had controlled her decision. "There would be no doubt ofit if it were not for Old Jimmie, and the people he's kept her among, and the ideas he's been feeding her since she was a baby. I don't thinkshe has any love for her father; but they say blood is mighty thick andI guess with her it's just the usual instinct of a child to stand withher father and do what he says. Yes, if she were not held back and helddown by having Old Jimmie for a father, I'm sure she'd be all right. "

The Duchess felt that the moment had now arrived for her to unlooseher secret. But despite her fixed purpose to tell, her words had to beforced out, and were halting, bald. 

"Jimmie Carlisle--is not her father. "

"What's that?" exclaimed Larry. 

"Not so loud. I said Jimmie Carlisle is not her father. "

"Grandmother!"

"Her father is Joe Ellison. "

"Grandmother!" He caught her hands. "Why--why--" But for a moment hisutter dumbfoundment paralyzed his speech. "You're--you're sure of that?"he finally got out. 

"Yes. " She went on and told of how her suspicion had been aroused, of her interview with Joe Ellison which had transmuted suspicion intocertainty, of her theory of the motives which had actuated JimmieCarlisle in so perverting the directions of the man who had held Jimmieas his most trusted friend. 

Larry was fairly stunned by this recital of what had been done. And hewas further stunned as he realized the fullness of what now seemed to bethe circumstances. 

"God, think of it!" he breathed. "Maggie trying to be a greatadventuress because she was brought up that way, because she thinks herfather wants her to be that--and having never a guess of the truth! AndJoe Ellison believing that his daughter is a nice, simple girl, happilyignorant of the life he tried to shield her from--and having nevera guess of the truth! What a situation! And if they should ever findout--"

He broke off, appalled by the power and magnitude of what he vaguelysaw. Presently he said in a numbed, awed voice:

"They should know the truth. But how are they to find out?"

"I'm leaving all that to you, Larry. Maggie and Joe Ellison are youraffair. It's up to you to decide what you think best to do. "

Larry was silent for several moments. "You've known this for some time, grandmother?"

"For several weeks. "

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I was afraid it might somehow bring you closer to Maggie, and I didn'twant that, " she answered honestly. "Now I think a little better ofMaggie. And you've proved to me I can trust a great deal more to yourjudgment. Yes, I guess that's the chief reason I've come out here totell you this: you've proved to me I've got to respect your judgment. And so whatever you may do--about Maggie or anything else--will be allright with me. "

She did not wait for a response, but stood up. Her voice which had beenshot through with emotion these last few minutes was now that flat, mechanical monotone to which the habitants of her little street wereaccustomed. 

"I must be getting back to the city. Good-night. "

He started to accompany her to her car, but she forbade him, saying thatit would not help matters to have him seen and possibly recognized bythe taxicab driver; and so she went out of the grounds alone. Withinanother hour and a half she was set down unobserved in a dim side streetin Brooklyn. Thence she made her way on foot to the Subway and rodehome. If the police had noticed her absence and should question her, shecould refuse to answer, or say that she had been visiting late with afriend in Brooklyn. 

Larry sat long out in the night after his grandmother had left him. Whatshould he do with this amazing information placed at his disposal? TellJoe Ellison? Or tell Maggie? Or tell both? Or himself try to meet JimmieCarlisle and pay that traitor to Joe Ellison and that malformer ofMaggie the coin he had earned?

But for hours the situation itself was still too bewildering in itsmany phases for Larry to give concentrated thought to what should beits attempted solution. Not until dawn was beginning to awaken dully, aswith a protracted yawn, out of the shadowy Sound, was he able really tohold his mind with clearness upon the problem of what use he shouldmake of these facts of which he had been appointed guardian. He decidedagainst telling Joe Ellison--at least he would not tell him yet. Herecalled the rumors of Joe Ellison's repressed volcano of a temper; ifJoe Ellison should learn how he had been defrauded, all the man's vitalforces would be instantly transformed into destructive, vengeful ragethat would spare no one and count no cost. The result would doubtlessbe tragedy, with no one greatly served, and with Joe very likely back inprison. If he himself should go out to give Old Jimmie his deserts, his action would be just good powder wasted--it likewise would serve noconstructive purpose. Larry realized that it is only human nature for awronged man to wish for and attempt revenge; but that in the economy oflife revenge has no value, serves no purpose; that it usually only makesa bad situation worse. 

A tremendous wrong had been done here, a wrong which showed a malignant, cunning, patient mind. But as Larry finally saw the matter, the pointfor first consideration was not the valueless satisfaction of making theguilty man suffer, but was to try to restore to the victims some part ofthose precious things of which they had been unconsciously robbed. 

And then Larry had what seemed to him an inspiration: his inspirationbeing only a sane thought, and what the Duchess, though she hadnot pointed the way to him, had thought he would do. Maggie wasthe important person in this situation!--Maggie whose life was justbeginning, and whose nature he still believed to be plastic! Not JoeEllison or Old Jimmie Carlisle, who had almost lived out their lives andwhose natures were now settled into what they would be until the end. By playing upon the finer elements in Maggie's character he had all butsucceeded in rousing to dominance that best nature which existed withinher. He would privately tell Maggie the truth, and tell only her andleave the using of that knowledge to her alone. The shock of thatknowledge, the effect of its revelations upon her, together with theresponsibility of what she should do with this information, might bejust the final forces necessary to make Maggie break away from all thatshe had been and swing over to all that he believed she might be. 

Yes, that was the thing to do! And he would do it within the next twelvehours; for Dick had told him that Maggie was coming out again to CedarCrest on the afternoon of the day which was now rousing from its sleep. That is, he would do it if the police or the allies of his one-timefriends did not locate him before Maggie came. But of that he had noserious fear; he knew he had made a clean get-away from the Grantham, and that the shrewd Duchess had left no scent by which those bloodhoundsof the Police Department could trail her. 

Larry did not even try to sleep; he knew it would be of no avail. Backin his own room he sat going over the situation, and his decision. Hetingled with the sense of the tremendous power which had been deliveredinto his hands. Yes, tremendous! But what were going to be Maggie'sreactions the moment he told her?--just what would be her course aftershe knew the truth?

CHAPTER XXX

Larry undressed, had a bath, shaved, dressed again, and started towork. But that day the most Larry did was abstractedly going throughthe motions of work. He was completely filled with the situation and itsmany questions, and with the suspense of waiting for Maggie to come andof how he was going to manage to see her privately. 

The meeting, however, proved no difficulty; for Maggie, who arrived atfour, had come primarily on Larry's account and she herself maneuveredthe encounter. While they were on the piazza, Dick having gone into thehouse for a fresh supply of cigarettes, and Miss Sherwood being in ananimated discussion with Hunt, Maggie said:

"Miss Sherwood, I've never had a real look down at the Sound from theedge of your bluff. Do you mind if Mr. Brandon shows me?"

"Not at all. Tea won't be served for half an hour, so take your time. Have Mr. Brandon show you the view from just the other side of that oldrose-bench; that's the best view. "

They walked away chatting mechanically until they were in a garden seatbehind the rose-bench. The rose-bench was a rather sorry affair, forit had been set out in this exposed place by a former gardener who hadforgotten that the direct winds from the Sound are malgracious toroses. However, it screened the two, and was far enough removed so thatordinary tones would not carry to the house. 

"Did your grandmother get you word about the police?" Maggie asked withsuppressed excitement as soon as they were seated. 

"Yes. She came out here about midnight. "

"Then why, while you still had time, didn't you get farther away fromNew York than this?"

"If I'm to be caught, I'm to be caught; in the meantime, this is as safea place as any other for me. Besides, I wanted to have at least one moretalk with you--after something new grandmother told me about you. "

"Something new about me?" echoed Maggie, startled by his grave tone. "What?"

"About your father, " he said, watching closely for the effect upon herof his revelations. 

"What about my father? What's he been doing that I don't know about?"

"You do not know a single thing that your father has done. "

"What!"

"Because you do not know who your father is. "

"What!" she gasped. 

"Listen, Maggie. What I'm going to tell you may seem unbelievable, butyou've got to believe it, because it's the truth. I can see that youhave proofs if you want proofs. But you can accept what I tell you asabsolute facts. You are by birth a very different person from what youbelieve yourself. Your father is not Jimmie Carlisle. And your mother--"

"Larry!" She tensely gripped his arm. 

"Your mother was of a good family. I imagine something like MissSherwood's kind--though not so rich and not having such social standing. She died when you were born. She never knew what your father's businessactually was; he passed for a country gentleman. He was about thesmoothest and biggest crook of his time, and a straight crook if thereis such a thing. "

"Larry!" she breathed. 

"He kept this gentleman-farmer side of his life and his marriageentirely hidden from his crook acquaintances; that is, from all exceptone whom he trusted as his most loyal friend. Before you were old enoughto remember, he was tripped up and sent away on a twenty-year sentence. "

"And he's--he's still in prison?" whispered Maggie. 

Larry did not heed the interruption. "He had developed the highest kindof ambition for you. He wanted you to grow up a fine simple woman likeyour mother--something like Miss Sherwood. He did not want you everto know the sort of life he had known; and he did not want you to behandicapped by the knowledge that you had a crook for a father. He stillhad intact your mother's fortune, a small one, but an honest one. Sohe put you and the money in the hands of his trusted friend, with theinstructions that you were to be brought up as the girls of the nicestfamilies are brought up, and believing yourself an orphan. "

"That friend of his, Larry?" she whispered tensely. 

"Jimmie Carlisle. "

"O--oh!"

"I don't know what Jimmie Carlisle's motives were for what he has done. Perhaps to get your money, perhaps some grudge against your father, which he was afraid to show while your father was free, for yourfather was always his master. But Old Jimmie has brought you up exactlycontrary to the orders he received. If revenge was Old Jimmie's motive, his cunning, cowardly brain could not have conceived a more diabolicalrevenge, one that would hurt your father more. Till a few years ago, when word was sent to your father that Old Jimmie was dead, Jimmieregularly wrote your father about the success of his plan, about howsplendidly you were developing and getting on with the best people. Andyour father--I knew him in prison--now believes you have grown up intoexactly the kind of young woman he planned. "

"Larry!" she choked in a numbed voice. "Larry!"

"Your father is now as happy as it is possible for him to be, for he haslived for years and still lives in the belief that his great dream, theonly big thing left for him to do, has come to pass: that somewhere outin the world is his daughter, grown into a nice, simple, wholesome youngwoman, with a clean, wholesome life before her. And though she is theone thing in all the world to him, he never intends to see her again forfear that his seeing her might somehow result in an accident that woulddestroy her happy ignorance. Maggie, can you conceive the tremendousmeaning to your father of what he believes he has created? And can youconceive the tremendous difference between the dream he lives upon, andthe reality?"

She was white, staring, wilted. For once all the defiance, self-confidence, bravado, melted out of her, and she was just anappalled and frightened young girl. 

After a moment she managed to repeat the question Larry had ignored: "Ismy real father--still in prison?"

"You'd like to see your real father?" he asked her. 

"I think--I'd like to have a glimpse of him, " she breathed. 

Larry, just before this, had noted Joe Ellison in his blue overalls andwide straw hat cleaning out a bank of young dahlias a distance up thebluff. He now took Maggie's arm and guided her in that direction. 

"See that man there working among the dahlias?--the man who once broughtyou a bunch of roses? Joe Ellison is his name. He's the man I've beentalking about--your father. "

He felt her quivering under his hand for a moment, and heard her breathcome in swift, spasmodic pants. He was wondering what was the effectupon her of this climax of his revelation, when she whispered:

"Do you suppose--I can speak--to my father?"

"Of course. He likes all young women. And I told you that he and I wereclose friends. "

"Then--come on. " She arose, clinging to him, and drew him after her. Halfway to Joe she breathed: "You please say something first. Anything. "

He recognized this as the appeal of one whose faculties were reeling. There had never been any attempt here at Cedar Crest to conceal JoeEllison's past, and in Larry's case there had been only such concealmentas might help his evasion of his dangers. And so Larry remarked as JoeEllison took his wide hat off his white hair and stood bareheaded beforethem:

"Joe, Miss Cameron knows who I really am, and about my having been inSing Sing; and I've just told her about our having been friends there. Also I told her about your having a daughter. It interested her and sheasked me if she couldn't talk to you, so I brought her over. "

Larry stood aside and tensely watched this meeting between father anddaughter. Joe bowed slightly, and with a dignified grace that overallsand over fifteen years of prison could not take from one who duringhis early and middle manhood had been known as the perfection of thefinished gentleman. His gray eyes warmed with appreciation of the youngfigure before him, just as Larry had seen them grow bright watching theyoung figures disporting in the Sound. 

"It is very gracious for a young woman like you, Miss Cameron, " he saidin a voice of grave courtesy, "to be interested enough in an old manlike me to want to talk with him. "

Maggie made the supreme effort of her life to keep herself in hand. "I wanted to talk to you because of something Mr. Brainard told meabout--about your having a daughter. "

Larry felt that this was too sacred a scene for him to intrude upon. "Would you mind excusing me, " he said; "there are some calculations I'vegot to rush out"--and he returned to the bench on which they had beensitting and pretended to busy himself over a pocket notebook. 

While Larry had been speaking and moving away, Maggie had swiftlybeen appraising her father. His gray eyes were direct as against thefurtiveness of Jimmie's; his mouth had a firm kindliness as against thewrinkled cunning of Jimmie's; his bearing was erect, self-possessed, as against Jimmie's bent, shuffling carriage. Maggie felt no swift-borndaughter love for this stranger who was her father. The turmoil of herdiscovery filled her too completely to admit a full-grown affection; butshe thrilled with the sense of the vast difference between her supposedfather and this her real father. 

In the meantime her father had spoken. Joe would have been more reservedwith men or with older women; but with this girl, so much the sort ofgirl he had long dreamed about, his reserve vanished without resistance, and in its place was a desire to talk to this beautiful creature whocame out of the world which the big white house represented. 

"I have a daughter, yes, " he said. "But Larry--Mr. Brainard perhaps Ishould say--has likely told you all there is to tell. "

"I'd like to hear it from you, please--if you don't mind. "

"There's really not much to tell, " he said. "You know what I was andwhat happened. When I went to prison my daughter was too young toremember me--less than two years old. I didn't want her ever to be drawninto the sort of life that had been mine, or be the sort of woman that agirl becomes who gets into that life. And I didn't want her ever to havethe stigma, and the handicap, of her knowing and the world knowing thather father was a convict. You can't understand it fully, Miss Cameron, but perhaps you can understand a little how disgraced you would feel, what a handicap it would be, if your father were a convict. I had a goodfriend I could trust. So I turned my daughter over to him, to bebrought up with no knowledge of my existence, and with every reasonableadvantage that a nice girl should have. I guess that's all, MissCameron. "

"This friend--what was his name?"

"Carlisle--Jimmie Carlisle. But his name could never have meant anythingto you. Besides, he's dead now. "

Maggie forced herself on. "Your plan--it turned out all right? Andyou--you are happy?"

"Yes. " In the sympathetic atmosphere which this young girl's presencecreated for him, Joe's emotions flowed into words more freely than everbefore in the company of a human being. Though he was answering her, what he was really doing was rather just letting his heart use itslong-silent voice, speak its exultant dream and belief. 

"Somewhere out in the world--I don't know where, and I don't want toknow--my daughter has now grown into a wholesome, splendid young woman!"he said in a vibrant voice. Brooding in solitude so long upon hiscareful plan that he believed could not fail, had made the keen JoeEllison less suspicious concerning it than he otherwise would havebeen--perhaps had made him a bit daffy on this one subject. "I havesaved my daughter from all the grime she might have known, and whichmight have soiled her, and even pulled her down if I hadn't thoughtout in good time my plan to protect her. And of course I am happy!" heexulted. "I have done the best thing that it was possible for me todo, the thing which I wanted most to do! Instead of what she might havebeen, I have as a daughter just such a nice girl as you are--just aboutyour own age--though, of course, she hasn't your money, your socialposition, and naturally not quite the advantages you have had. Of courseI'm happy!"

"You're--you're sure she's all that?"

Again his words were as much a statement aloud to himself of hisconstant dream as they were a direct answer to Maggie. "Of course! Therewas enough money--the plan was in the hands of a friend who knew howto handle such a thing--she's never known anything but the very bestsurroundings--and until she was fourteen I had regular reports on howwonderfully she was progressing. You see my friend had had her legallyadopted by a splendid family, so there's no doubt about everything beingfor the best. "

"And you"--Maggie drove herself on--"don't you ever want to see her?"

"Of course I do. But at the very beginning I fixed things so I couldnot; so that I would not even know where she is. Removed temptation frommyself, you see. Don't you see the possible results if I should try tosee her? Something might happen that would bring out the truth, and thatwould ruin her happiness, her career. Don't you see?"

His gray eyes, bright with his great dream, were fixed intently uponMaggie; and yet she felt that they were gazing far beyond her at someother girl... At his girl. 

"I--I--" she gulped and swayed and would have fallen if he had not beenquick to catch her arm. 

"You are sick, Miss?" he asked anxiously. 

"I--I have been, " she stammered, trying to regain control of herfaculties. "It's--it's that--and my not eating--and standing in thishot sun. Thank you very much for what you've told me. I'd--I'd better begetting back. "

"I'll help you. " And very gently, with a firm hand under one arm, heescorted her to the bench where Larry sat scribbling nothings. He thenraised his hat and returned to his dahlias. 

"Well?" queried Larry when they were alone. 

"I can't stand it to stay here and talk to these people, " she repliedin an agonized whisper. "I must get away from here quick, so that I canthink. "

"May I come with you?"

"No, Larry--I must be alone. Please, Larry, please get into the house, and manage to fake a telephone message for me, calling me back to NewYork at once. "

"All right. " And Larry hurried away. She sat, pale, breathing rapidly, her whole being clenched, staring fixedly out at the Sound. Five minuteslater Larry was back. 

"It's all arranged, Maggie. I've told the people; they're sorry you'vegot to go. And Dick is getting his car ready. "

She turned her eyes upon him. He had never seen in them such a look. They were feverish, with a dazed, affrighted horror. She clutched hisarm. 

"You must promise never to tell my father about me!"

"I won't. Unless I have to. "

"But you must not! Never!" she cried desperately. "He thinks I'm--Oh, don't you understand? If he were to learn what I really am, it wouldkill him. He must keep his dream. For his sake he must never find out, he must keep on thinking of me just the same. Now, you understand?"

Larry slowly nodded. 

Her next words were dully vibrant with stricken awe. "And it means thatI can never have him for my father! Never! And I think--I'd--I'd likehim for a father! Don't you see?"

Again Larry nodded. In this entirely new phase of her, a white-faced, stricken, shivering girl, Larry felt a poignant sympathy for her thelike of which had never tingled through him in her conquering moods. Indeed Maggie's situation was opening out into great human problems suchas neither he nor any one else had ever foreseen!

"There comes Dick, " she whispered. "I must do my best to hold myselftogether. Good-bye, Larry. "

A minute later, Larry just behind her, she was crossing the lawn onDick's arm, explaining her weakness and pallor by the sudden dizzinesswhich had come upon her in consequence of not eating and of being in thehot sun. 

CHAPTER XXXI

Larry was far more deeply moved this time when Maggie drove awaywith Dick than on that former occasion when he had tried to play withadroitness upon her psychological reactions. Now he knew that her veryworld was shaken; that her soul was stunned and reeling; that she wasfighting with all her strength for a brief outward composure. 

He had loved her for months, but he had never so loved her as in thishour when all her artificial defenses had been battered down and she hadbeen just a bewildered, agonized girl, with just the emotions andfirst thoughts that any other normal girl would have had under the samecircumstances. His great desire had been to be with her, to comfort her, help her; but he realized that she had been correct in her instinct tobe by herself for a while, to try to comprehend it all, to try to thinkher way out. 

When Maggie was out of sight he excused himself from having tea, leftHunt and Miss Sherwood upon the veranda, and sought his study. Butthough he had neglected his work the whole day, he now gave it noattention. He sat at his desk and thought of Maggie: tried to thinkof what she was going to do. Her situation was so complicated with bigelements which she would have to handle that he could not foretell justwhat her course would be. It was a terrific situation for a young woman, who was after all just a very young girl, to face alone. But there wasnothing for him but to wait for news from her. And she had not said eventhat she would ever let him hear. 

While he considered these matters he had risen and paced the room. Oncehe had paused at a French window which opened upon a side veranda, andhad seen below him a few yards away Joe Ellison, whose interest in hisflowers had established his workday from sunrise to sunset. Joe Ellisonhad been pulling tiny weeds that were daring to attempt to get a startin a rose-garden. Larry's mind had halted a moment upon Joe. Here atleast was a contented man: one who, no matter what happened, wouldremain in ignorance of possibly great events which would intimatelyconcern him. Then Larry had left the window and had returned to histhoughts of Maggie. 

But Larry's thoughts were not to remain exclusively with Maggie forlong. Shortly after six Judkins entered and announced that a man was atthe door with a message. The man had refused to come in, saying he wasonly a messenger and was in a hurry; and had refused to give Judkinsthe message, saying that it was verbal. Thinking that some word had comefrom his grandmother, or possibly even from Maggie, Larry went out uponthe veranda. Waiting for him was a nondescript man he did not know. 

"Mr. Brandon, sir?" asked the man. 

"Yes. You have a message for me?"

Before the man could reply, there came a shout from the shrubbery beyondthe drive:

"Grab him, Smith! He's the man!"

Instantly Smith's steely arms were about Larry, pinning his elbows tohis sides, and a man broke from the shrubbery and hurried toward thehouse. Instinctively Larry started to struggle, but he ceased as herecognized the man coming up the steps. It was Gavegan. Larry realizedthat he had been shrewdly trapped, that resistance would serve no end, and the next moment handcuffs were upon his wrists. 

"Well, Brainard, " gloated Gavegan, "we've landed you at last!"

"So it seems, Gavegan. "

"You thought you was damned clever, but I guess you know now you ain'tone, two, three!"

"Oh, I knew how clever you are, Gavegan, " Larry responded dryly, "andthat you'd get me sooner or later if I hung around. "

As a matter of fact Larry's capture, which was as unspectacular as hisescape had been strenuous, was the consequence of no cleverness atall. Larry had said to Barney Palmer the night before that he knew whoBarney's sucker was; and Barney had passed this information along toChief Barlow. "Follow every clue; luck may be with you and one of theclues may turn up what you want":--this is in substance an unwrittenrule of routine procedure which effects those magnificent policesolutions which are presented as more mysterious than the originalmystery--for it is well for the public to believe that its policeofficers are unfailingly more clever than its criminals. Barlow haddone some routine thinking: if Larry Brainard knew Dick Sherwood wasthe sucker, then watching Dick Sherwood might possibly reveal thewhereabouts of Larry Brainard. Barlow had passed this tip along toGavegan. Gavegan had grumbled to himself that it was only a thousand toone shot; but luck had been with him, and his long shot had won. 

Miss Sherwood, Hunt behind her, had been drawn by the sound of voicesaround to the side of the veranda where stood the four men. "What areyou doing?" she now sharply demanded of Gavegan. 

"Don't like to make any unpleasant scene, Miss Sherwood, but I've gottatell you that this so-called Brandon is a well-known crook. " Gaveganenjoyed few things more than astounding people with unpleasant facts. "His real name is Brainard; he's done time, and now he's wanted by theNew York police for a tough job he pulled. "

"I knew all that long ago, " said Miss Sherwood. 

"Eh--what?" stammered Gavegan. 

"Mr. Brainard told me all that the first time I saw him. "

"Hello, Gavegan, " said Hunt, stepping forward. 

"Well, I'll be--if you ain't that crazy--" Again the ability to expresshimself coherently and with restraint failed Gavegan. "If you ain't thatpainter that lived down at the Duchess's!"

"Right, Gavegan--as a detective always should be. And Larry Brainard wasthen, and is now, my friend. "

Miss Sherwood again spoke up sharply. "Mr. Gavegan--if that is yourname--you will please take those foolish things off Mr. Brainard'swrists. "

Gavegan had been cheated out of creating a sensation. That discomfitureperhaps made him even more dogged than he was by nature. 

"Sorry, Miss, but he's charged with having committed a crime and is afugitive from justice, and I can't. "

"I'll be his security. Take them off. "

"Sorry to refuse you again, Miss. But he's a dangerous man--got awayonce before. My orders is to take no risks that'll give him anotherchance for a get-away. "

Miss Sherwood turned to Larry. "I'll go into town with you, and so willMr. Hunt. I'll see that you get bail and a good lawyer. "

"Thank you, Miss Sherwood, " Larry said. "Gavegan, I guess we're ready tostart. "

"Not just yet, Brainard. Sorry, Miss Sherwood, but we've got a searchwarrant for your place. We just want to have a look at the room Brainardused. No telling what kind of crooked stuff he's been up to. And to makethe search warrant O. K. I had it issued in this county and brought alonga county officer to serve it. Show it to the lady, Smith. "

"I have no desire to see it, Mr. Gavegan. I have more interest inwatching you while you go through my things. " And giving Gavegan a lookwhich made an unaccustomed flush run up that officer's thick neck andredden his square face, she led the way into Larry's study. "This isthe room where Mr. Brainard works, " she said. "Through that door is hisbedroom. Everything here except his clothing is my property. I shallhold you rigidly responsible for any disorder you may create or anydamage you may do. Now you may go ahead. "

"Let's have all your keys, Brainard, " Gavegan choked out. 

Larry handed them over. With Miss Sherwood, Hunt, and Larry lookingsilently on, the two men began their examination. They began with thepapers on Larry's desk and in its drawers; and in all his life Gaveganhad not been so considerate in a search as he now was with MissSherwood's blue eyes coldly upon him. They unlocked cabinets, scrutinized their contents, shook out books, examined the backs ofpictures, took up rugs; then passed into Larry's bedroom. Miss Sherwoodmade no move to follow the officers into that more intimate apartment, and the other two watchers remained with her. 

A minute passed. Then Gavegan reentered, a puzzled, half-triumphant lookon his red face, holding out a square of paint-covered canvas. 

"Found this thing in Brainard's chiffonier. What the he--I mean what'sit doing out here?"

There was not an instant's doubt as to what the thing was. Larrystarted, and Hunt started, and Miss Sherwood started. But it was MissSherwood who first spoke. 

"Why, it's a portrait of Miss Cameron, in costume! And painted by Mr. Hunt!" In amazement she turned first upon Larry and upon Hunt. "When didyou ever paint her portrait, when you did not meet Miss Cameron tillyou met her here? And, Mr. Brainard, how do you come to possess MissCameron's portrait?"

It was Gavegan who spoke up promptly, and not either of the two suddenlydiscomfited men. And Gavegan instantly sensed in the situation a chanceto get even for the humiliation his self-esteem had just suffered. 

"Miss Cameron nothing! Her real name is Maggie Carlisle, and she usedto live at a dump of a pawnshop down on the East Side run by Brainard'sgrandmother. Brainard knew her there, and so did Mr. Hunt. "

"But--but--" gasped Miss Sherwood--"she's been coming out here as MaggieCameron!"

"I tell you your Maggie Cameron is Maggie Carlisle!" said Gavegangloatingly. "I've known her for years. Her father is Old JimmieCarlisle, a notorious crook. And she's mixed up right now with herfather and some others in a crooked game. And Brainard here used to besweet on her, and probably still is, and if he's been letting her comehere, without telling you who she is--well, I guess you know the answer. Didn't I tell you, Miss, that give me a chance and I'd turn up somethingagainst this guy Brainard!"

Miss Sherwood's face was white, but set with grim accusation that wasonly waiting to pronounce swift judgment. "Mr. Hunt, is it true thatMiss Cameron is this Maggie Carlisle the officer mentions, and that youknew it all the while?"

"Yes--" began the painter. 

"Don't blame him, Miss Sherwood, " Larry interrupted. "He didn't tell youbecause I begged him not to as a favor to me. Blame me for everything. "

Her judgment upon Hunt was pronounced with cold finality, her eyesstraight into Hunt's: "Whatever may have been Mr. Hunt's motives, Iunalterably hold him to blame. "

She turned upon Larry. The face which he had only seen in gracious moodswas as inflexibly stern as a prosecuting attorney's. 

"We're going to go right to the bottom of this, Mr. Brainard. Youtoo have known all along that this Miss Cameron was really the MaggieCarlisle this officer speaks of?"

"Yes. "

"And you have known all along that she was the daughter of thisnotorious criminal, Old Jimmie Carlisle?"

The impulse surged up in Larry to tell the newly learned truth aboutMaggie. But he remembered Maggie's injunction that the truth must neverbe known. He checked his revelation just in time. 

"Yes. "

"And is it true that Maggie Carlisle is herself what is known as acrook?--or has had crooked inclinations or plans?"

"It's like this, Miss Sherwood--"

"A direct answer, please!"

"Yes. "

"And is it true, as this officer has suggested, that you were in lovewith her yourself?"

"Yes. "

"You are aware of my brother's infatuation for her? That he has askedher to marry him?"

"Yes. "

Her voice now sounded more terrible to Larry. "I took you in to give youa chance. And your repayment has been that, knowing all these things, you have kept silent and let me and my brother be imposed upon by aswindling operation. And who knows, since you admit that you lovethe girl, that you have not been a partner in the conspiracy from thefirst!"

"That's exactly the idea, Miss!" put in Gavegan. 

Larry had foreseen many possible wrong turns which his plan might take, but he was appalled by the utter unexpectedness of the actual disaster. And yet he recognized that the evidence justified Miss Sherwood'sjudgment of him. It all made him seem an ingrate and a swindler. 

For the moment Larry was so overwhelmed that he made no attempt tospeak. And since for once Gavegan was content merely to gloat over histriumph, there was stiff silence in the room until Miss Sherwood saidin the cold voice of a judge after a jury has brought in a verdict ofguilty:

"Of course, if you think there is anything you may say for yourself, Mr. Brainard, you now have the chance to say it. "

"I have much to say, but I can't blame you if you refuse to believemost of it, " Larry said desperately, fighting for what seemed his lastchance. "I loved Maggie Carlisle. I believed she had splendid qualities. Only she was dominated by the twisted ideas Old Jimmie Carlisle hadplanted in her. I wanted to eradicate those twisted ideas, and makeher good qualities her ruling ones. But she didn't believe in me. She thought me a soft-head, a police stool, a squealer. Then I had todisappear; you know all about that. Not till I had been with you forseveral weeks did I learn that she was being used in a swindling schemeagainst Dick. 

"I did think of telling you or Dick. But my greatest interest was toawaken that better person I believed to be in her; and I knew that thecertain result of my exposing her to you would be for me to lose thelast bit of influence I had with her, and for her to pass right on toanother enterprise of similar character. So the idea came to me that ifI didn't expose her, but caused her to be received with every courtesyby her intended victims, the effect upon her would be that she wouldfeel a revulsion for what she was doing and she would come to her bestsenses. I told this to Mr. Hunt; that's why he agreed not to give heraway. And another point, though frankly this was not so important to me:it seemed to me that a good hard jolt might be just what was needed tomake Dick take life more seriously, and I saw in this affair a chancefor Dick to get just the jolt he needed. 

"That's all, Miss Sherwood. Except that I have seen signs which make mebelieve that what I figured would happen to Maggie Carlisle have begunto happen to her. "

"Bunk!" snorted Gavegan. 

"I know that part of what he says is true, " put in Hunt. 

Miss Sherwood ignored Hunt and his remark. The look of controlled wrathwhich she held upon Larry did not change. Larry recognized that hisstatement had sounded most implausible. Miss Sherwood in her indignationconsidered only that her kindness had been betrayed, her hospitalityoutraged, and that those she had accepted as friends had sought totrick her family in the worst way she could conceive; and she spokeaccordingly. 

"If that is the best Mr. Brainard has to say for himself, Mr. Gavegan, you may take him with you, and without any interference from me. I askonly that you take him out of the house at once. "

With that she moved from the room, not looking again at either Huntor Larry. For a brief space there was silence, while Gavegan let histriumph feed gloatingly upon the sight of his prisoner. 

This brief silence was broken by a low, strange sound, like a humancry quickly repressed, that seemed to come from just outside the Frenchwindows. 

"What was that?" Larry asked quickly. 

"I didn't hear anything, " said Gavegan whose senses had been thoroughlyconcentrated upon his triumph. 

"I did, " said Hunt. "On the veranda. "

"We'll see. Watch him--" to the county officer; and Gavegan followedHunt to the French windows and looked out. "No one on the veranda, andno one in sight, " he reported. "You fellows must have been dreaming. "

He returned and faced Larry. "I guess you'll admit, Brainard, that I'vegot you for keeps this time. "

"Then suppose we be starting for Headquarters. " Larry responded. 

Hunt moved to Larry's side. "I'll just trail along after you, Larry. Anyhow, this doesn't seem to be any place for me. "

A few minutes afterwards Larry was in a car beside Gavegan, speedingaway from Cedar Crest toward the city. Larry's thoughts were thegloomiest he had entertained since he had come out of Sing Sing monthsbefore with his great dream. All that he had counted on had gone wrong. He was in the hands of the police, and he knew how hard the police wouldbe. He had incurred the hostility of Miss Sherwood and had lost what hadseemed a substantial opportunity to start his career as an honest man. The only item of his great plan in which he did not seem to have failedcompletely was Maggie. And he did not know what Maggie was going to do. 

CHAPTER XXXII

When Maggie drove away with Dick from Cedar Crest--this was an hourbefore Gavegan descended out of the blue upon Larry and two hours beforehe rode triumphantly away with his captive--she was the most dazed anddisillusioned young creature who had ever set out confidently to conquerthe world. Courage, confidence, quickness of wit, all the qualities onwhich she had prided herself, were now entirely gone, and she was justa white, limp figure that wanted to run away: a weak figure in whichswirled thoughts almost too spasmodically powerful for so weakened avessel not to be shattered under their wild strain: thoughts of heramazingly discovered real father--of how she was the very contradictionof her father's dream--of Larry--of the cunning Jimmie Carlisle whomtill this day she had believed her father--of Barney Palmer. 

So agitated was she with these gyrating thoughts that she was notconscious that Dick had stopped the car on the green roadside untilhe had taken her hand and had begun to speak. The happy, garrulous, unobservant Dick had not noticed anything out of the way with her morethan a pallor which she had explained away as being due to nothing morethan a bit of temporary dizziness. And so for the second time Dick nowpoured out his love to her and asked her to marry him. 

"Don't, Dick--please!" she interrupted him. "I can't marry you! Never!"

"What!" cried the astounded Dick. "Maggie--why not?"

"I can't. That's final. And don't make me talk to you now, Dick--please!I cannot!"

His face, so fresh and happy the moment before, became gray and linedwith pain. But he silently swung the car back into the road. 

She forgot him utterly in what was happening within her. As they rodeon, she forced herself to think of what she should do. She saw herselfas the victim of much, and as guilty of much. And then inspiration cameupon her, or perhaps it was merely a high frenzy of desperation, and shesaw that the responsibility for the whole situation was upon her alone;she saw it as her duty, the role assigned her, to try to untangle alonethis tangled situation, to try to measure out justice to every one. 

First of all, as she had told Larry, her father's dream of her mustremain unbroken. Whatever she did, she must do nothing that mightpossibly be a sharp blow to the conception of his daughter which werethe roots and trunk and flowering branches of his present happiness.. .. And then came a real inspiration! She would, in time, make herself intothe girl he believed her--make his dream the truth! She would get rid ofOld Jimmie and Barney--would cut loose from everything pertaining to herformer life--would disappear and live for a year or two in the kind ofenvironment in which he believed he had placed her--and would reappearand claim him for her father! And for his own sake, he should never knowthe truth. Two years more and he should have the actuality, where he nowhad only the dream!

But before she was free to enter upon this plan, before she could vanishout of the knowledge of all who had known her, there was a great duty toLarry Brainard which she must discharge. He was hunted by the police, he was hunted by his former pals. And he was in his predicamentfundamentally because of her. Therefore, it was her foremost duty toclear Larry Brainard. 

Yes, she would do that first! Somehow!... 

She was considering this problem of how she was to clear Larry, whohad tried to awaken her, who had shielded her, who loved her, when Dickslowed his car down in front of the Grantham and helped her out. As hesaid a subdued good-bye and was stepping back into his car, an impulsesurged up into her--an impulse of this different Maggie whose birth wasbeing attended by such bewildering emotions and decisions. 

"Dick, won't you please come up for just a little while?"

Three minutes later they were in her sitting-room. Cap in hand Dickawaited her words in the misery of silence. Her look was drawn, butdirect. 

"Back in the road, Dick, you asked me why I couldn't marry you. I askedyou up here to tell you. "

"Yes?" he queried dully. 

"One reason is that, though I like you, I don't like you that way. Themore important reason to you is that I am a fraud. "

"A fraud!" he exclaimed incredulously. 

It had come to her, as she was leaving the car, that the place to starther new life was to start right, or quit right, with Dick. "A fraud, "she repeated--"an impostor. There is no Maggie Cameron. I am born of nogood family from the West. I have no money. I have always lived in NewYork--most of the time down on the East Side. I used to work in a FifthAvenue millinery shop. Till three months ago I sold cigarettes in one ofthe big hotels. "

"What of that!" cried Dick. 

"That is the nicest part of what I have to tell you, " she continuedrelentlessly. "My supposed relatives, Jimmie Carlisle and Barney Palmer, are no relatives at all, but are two clever confidence men. I have beenin with them, working on a scheme they have framed. Everything I haveseemed to be, everything I have done, even this expensive apartment, have all been parts of that scheme. The idea of that scheme was toswindle some rich man out of a lot of money--through my playing on hissusceptibilities. "

"Maggie!" he gasped. 

"More concretely, the idea was to trick some rich man into falling inlove with me, to get him to propose, then to have me confess that I wasalready married, but to a man who would give me a divorce if he werepaid enough. The rich man would then drive a bargain with my supposedhusband, pay over a lot of money--after which Barney, Old Jimmie, and Iwould disappear with our profits. "

"Maggie!" he repeated, stupefied with his incredulous amazement. But theunflinching gaze she held upon him convinced him she was speaking thetruth. "Then, if that was your game, why are you telling me now? Whydidn't you say 'yes' when I proposed a week ago? I would have fallen forthe game; you would have succeeded. "

Not till that moment did Maggie realize the full truth; not till thendid she realize the solid influence Larry Brainard had been in thebackground of her life all these months. 

"I didn't go through with it because of Larry Brainard. "

"Larry Brainard!" His astonishment increased. "You know Larry Brainard, then?"

"I've known him for several years. "

"And you've been coming out, and he's been pretending not to know you!Of course I knew what Larry Brainard has been. But is he in this, too?"

"No. He's exactly what you think him. From the start he's been trying tokeep me out of this. He was behind my coming to your house; he's told meso. His reason for getting me there was his belief that my being treatedby you and your sister as I was would make me ashamed of myself andmake me want to quit what I was doing. And I think--I think he wasright--partly. "

"And Larry--he's the reason you're telling me now?"

"I think so. But there are other reasons. " Making a clean breast ofthings though she was, she felt she dared not trust Dick with thesecret of her father. "I--I wanted to clear things up as far as I wasresponsible. That's one reason I'm telling you. There was the chanceyou might sometime find out that Larry had known me and suspect him; Iwanted you to know the truth of what he'd really done. And I wanted totell you the truth about myself, so you'd despise and forget me, insteadof perhaps carrying around romantic delusions about me after I'vegone. And there's another reason. I'd like to tell you--for you've beeneverything that's fine to me--if it won't offend you. "

"Go on, " he said huskily. 

"Barney Palmer picked you out as the victim--you didn't know you werebeing picked out--because he said that you were an easy mark. That youtook things for exactly what they pretended to be, and didn't carewhat you did with your money. That you never would settle down into aresponsible person. I'm telling you all this, Dick, because I don't wantyou to be what Barney said. "

Dick slumped into a chair, at last beaten down by this cumulativerevelation. He buried his face in his hands and his panting breath wasconvulsive with unuttered sobs. Maggie looked down upon the young boy, with pity, remorse, and an increasing recognition of the wide-spreadsuffering she had wrought. 

"To think that this has all been horrible make-believe!" he at lastgroaned. "That all the while I've been looked on as just a young foolwho would always remain a fool!"

Maggie, in her sense of guilt, was helpless to make any reply that wouldsoften his agony; and for a space neither spoke. 

Presently Dick stood suddenly up. His face was still marked bysuffering, but somehow it seemed to have grown older without losing itsyouth. There was a new blaze of determination in the direct look he heldon Maggie. 

"You say you have never loved me?" he demanded. 

She shook her head. "But I've told you that I've always liked you. "

"Larry Brainard's doing what he has kept on doing for you--that meansthat he loves you, doesn't it?" he pressed on. 

"He has told me so. "

"And you love him?"

"What difference does that make?--since I am going away as soon as I geteverything I'm wholly or partly responsible for cleared up. "

"If Larry Brainard has known you for a long while, then how about BarneyPalmer and Jimmie Carlisle?"

"They've known me as long, or longer. "

"Then you must have all known each other?"

"Yes. Years ago Larry worked with Barney and Jimmie Carlisle. "

"What was the attitude of those two toward Larry, when he was trying tobalk them by making you give up the plan?"

"They hated him. They are the cause--especially Barney--of all ofLarry's trouble with the police and with the old crowd he's quit. To tryto clear Larry, that's the most important thing I'm going to try to do. "

"And that's where you've got to let me help you!" Dick cried with suddenenergy. "Larry's been a mighty good friend to me--he's tried to head meright--and I owe him a lot. And I'd like a chance to show that BarneyPalmer I'm not going to keep on being the eternal fool he sized me up tobe!"

Maggie was startled by this swift transformation. "Why--why, Dick!" shebreathed. 

"What's your plan to clear Larry?"

"I hadn't got so far as to have a clear plan. I had only just realizedthat there had to be a plan. But since they have set the police onLarry, it came to me that the idea behind any plan would be for thepolice to really capture Barney and Jimmie Carlisle--get them out ofLarry's way. "

"That's it!" Dick Sherwood had a mind which, given an interestingstimulus, could work swiftly; and it worked swiftly now. "They wereplanning to trim me. Let's use that plan you outlined to me--use itto-night. You can tell them some story which will make immediate actionseem necessary and we'll all get together this evening. I'll play mypart all right--don't you worry about me! I'll come with a roll ofmoney that I'll dig up somewhere, and it'll be marked money. When it'spassed--bingo!--a couple of detectives that we'll have planted to watchthe proceedings will step right up and nab the two!"

She was taken aback by the very idea of him, the victim, afterher confession, throwing his lot in with her. "Why, Dick"--shestammered--"to think of you offering to do such a thing!"

"I owe that much to Larry Brainard, " he declared. "And--and I owe thatmuch to your desire to help set him straight. Well, what about my plan?"

Since he seemed eager to lend himself to it, it seemed to her altogetherwonderful, and she told him so. They discussed details for severalminutes, for there was much to be done and it had all to be done mostadroitly. It was agreed that he should come at ten o'clock, when thestage would all be set. 

As he was leaving to attend to his part of the play, a precautionaryidea flashed upon Maggie. 

"Better telephone me just before you come. Something may have happenedto change our plans. "

"All right--I'll telephone. Just keep your nerve. "

With that he hurried out. At about the time he left, Larry was leavingCedar Crest in handcuffs beside the burly and triumphant Gavegan, andbelieving that the power he had sought to exercise was now effectuallyat an end. He was out of it. In his despondency it was not granted himto see that the greatest thing which he could do was already done; thathe had set in motion all the machinery of what had taken place andwhat was about to take place; that all the figures in the action of thefurther drama of that night were to act as they were to do primarilybecause of promptings which came from him. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

Dick's departure left Maggie to think alone upon an intricate andpossibly dangerous interplay of characters in which she had cast herselffor the chief role, which might prove a sacrificial role for her. Shequickly perceived that Dick's plan, clever as it might be, would bringabout, in the dubious event of its success, only one of the severalhappenings which had to come to pass if she were to clear her slatebefore her disappearance. 

Dick's plan was good; but it would only get rid of Barney and OldJimmie. It would only rid Larry of such danger as they represented; itwould only be revenge upon them for the evil they had done. And, afterall, revenge helped a man forward but very little. There would stillremain, even in the event of the success of Dick's plan, the constantdanger to Larry from the police hunt, instigated by Chief Barlow'svindictive determination to send Larry back to prison for his refusal tobe a stool-pigeon; and the constant danger from his one-time friends whowere hunting him down with deadly hatred as a squealer. 

Somehow, if she were to set things right for Larry, she had to maneuverthat night's happenings in such a way as to eliminate forever Barlow'spersecutions, and eliminate forever the danger to Larry from hisfriends' and their hirelings' desire for vengeance upon a supposedtraitor. 

Maggie thought rapidly, elaborating on Dick's plan. But what Maggie didwas not so much the result of sober thought as of the inspiration of adesperate, hardly pressed young woman; but then, after all, what we callinspiration is only thought geared to an incredibly high speed. Firstof all, she got rid of that slow-witted, awesome supernumerary, MissGrierson, who might completely upset the delicate action of the stageby a dignified entrance at the wrong moment and with the wrong cue. Nextshe called up Chief Barlow at Police Headquarters. Fortunately for herBarlow was still in; for an acrimonious dispute, then in progress andtaking much space in the public prints, between him and the DistrictAttorney's office was keeping him late at his desk despite the mostautocratic and pleasant of all demands, those of his dinner hour. Tohim Maggie gave a false name, and told him that she had most importantinformation to communicate at once; to which he growled back that shecould give it if she came down at once. 

Next she called up Barney, who had been waiting near a telephone inexpectation of news of the result of her second visit to the home ofDick Sherwood. To Barney she said that she had the greatest possiblenews--news which would require immediate action--and that he should beat her suite at nine o'clock prepared to play his part at once in thebig proposition that had just developed, and that he should get word toOld Jimmie to follow him in a few minutes. 

Within fifteen minutes a taxicab had whirled her down to PoliceHeadquarters and she was in the office where three months earlier Larryhad been grilled after his refusal of the license to steal and cheat onthe condition that he become a police stool. Barlow, who was alone inthe room, looked up with a scowl from a secret report he had secured ofthe activities of detectives in the District Attorney's office. AlthoughMaggie was pretty and stylishly dressed, Barlow did not rise nor did heremove the big cigar he had been viciously gnawing. It is the traditionof the Police Department, the most thoroughly respected article of itsreligion, that a woman who is seen in Police Headquarters cannot by anypossibility be a lady. 

"Well, what's on your chest?" he grunted, not even asking her to beseated. 

It was suddenly Maggie's impulse--sprung perhaps out of unconsciousmemory of what Larry had suffered--to inflict upon herself the uttermosthumiliation. So she said:

"I've come here to offer myself as a stool-pigeon. "

"What's that?" Barlow exclaimed, startled. It was not often that a swelllady--who of course couldn't be a swell (he did not know who Maggiewas)--voluntarily walked into his office with such a proposition. 

"I can give you some real information about a big game that's beingworked up. In fact, I can arrange for you to be present when the game ispulled off, and you can make the arrests. "

"Who are the people?" he asked brusquely. 

Maggie knew it would be fatal to mention Barney or Old Jimmie, if thatstory about Barlow's protection contained any truth. Again inspiration, or incredibly swift thinking, came to her aid, and with sure touch shetwanged one of Barlow's rawest and most responsive nerves. 

"Larry Brainard is behind it all. He's been doing a lot of things on thequiet these last few months. Here is where you can get his whole crowd. "

"Larry Brainard!"

Maggie did not yet know what had befallen Larry, and Gavegan hadneglected to telephone his Chief of the arrest. Even had Gavegan doneso, the large and vague manner in which Maggie had stated the situationwould have stirred Barlow's curiosity. 

"All right. I'll put a couple of my good men on the case. Where shall Isend 'em?"

"A couple of your good men won't do. I want only one of your goodmen--and that man is yourself. "

"Me!" growled Barlow. "What kind of floor-walker d'you think I am? I'mtoo busy!"

"Too busy to take personal charge, and get personal credit, for one ofthe biggest cases that ever went through this office?"

Maggie had sought only to excite his vanity. But unknowingly she hadalso appealed to something else in him: his very deep concern in thehostile activities of the District Attorney's office. If this girl toldthe truth, then here might be his chance to display such devotionto duty as to turn up some such sensational case as would make thisinvestigation from the District Attorney's office seem to the publican unholy persecution and make the chagrined District Attorney, whowas very sensitive to public opinion, think it wiser to drop the wholematter. 

"How do I know you're not trying to string me?--or get me out of the wayof something bigger?--or hand me the double-cross?"

"I shall be there all the time, and if you don't like the way the thingdevelops you can arrest me. I suppose you've got some kind of law, witha stiff punishment attached, about conspiracy against an officer. "

"Well--give me all the dope, and tell me where I'm to come, " he yieldedungraciously. 

"I've told you all I am going to tell. All the important 'dope' you'llget first-hand by being present when the thing happens. The place tocome is the Hotel Grantham--room eleven-forty-two--at eight-thirtysharp. "

To this Barlow grudgingly agreed. He might have exulted inwardly, buthe would have shown no outer graciousness if a committee of citizens hadhanded him a reward of a million dollars and an engrossed testimonial tohis unprecedented services. Barlow did not know how to thank any one. 

Five minutes after she left Headquarters Maggie was in the back room ofthe Duchess's pawnshop, which her rapid planning had fixed upon as thenext station at which she should stop. She did not waste a moment incoming to the point with the Duchess. 

"Red Hannigan is really the most important of Larry's old friends whoare out to get him, isn't he?" she asked. 

"Yes--in a way. I mean among those who honestly think Larry has turnedstool and squealer. He trusted Larry more than any one else--and nowhe hates Larry more than any one else. Rather natural, since he was twomonths in the Tombs before he could get bail--because he thinks Larrysquealed on him. "

"How's he stand with his crowd?"

"No one higher. They'd all take his word for anything. "

"Can you find him at once?" Maggie pursued breathlessly. 

That was a trifling question to ask the Duchess; since all the news ofher shadowy world came to her ears in some swift obscure manner. 

"Yes. If it is necessary. "

"It's terribly necessary! If I can't get him, the whole thing may fail!"

"What thing?" demanded the Duchess. 

"It might all sound impossibly foolish!" cried the excited, desperateMaggie. "You might tell me so--and discourage me--and I simply must goahead! I feel rather like--like a juggler who's trying for the firsttime to keep a lot of new things going in the air all at once. But Ithink there's a chance that I may succeed! I'll tell you just one thing. It all has to do with Larry. I think I may help Larry. "

"I'll get Red Hannigan, " the Duchess said briefly. "What do you wantwith him?"

"Have him come to the Hotel Grantham--room eleven-forty-two--ateight-fifteen sharp!"

"He'll be there, " said the Duchess. 

There followed a swirling taxi-ride back to the Grantham, and a rapidchange into her most fetching evening gown (she had not even a thoughtof dinner) to play her bold part in the drama which she was excitedlywriting in her mind and for which she had just engaged her cast. She wason fire with terrible suspense: would the other actors play their partsas she intended they should?--would her complicated drama have theending she was hoping for?

Had she been in a more composed, matter-of-fact state of mind, this playwhich she was staging would have seemed the crudest, most impossiblemelodrama--a thing both too absurd and too dangerous for her to risk. But Maggie was just then living through one of the highest periods ofher life; she cared little what happened to her. And it is just suchmoods that transform and elevate what otherwise would be absurd to thenobly serious; that changes the impossible into the possible; just as anexalted mood or mind is, or was, the primary difference between Hamlet, or Macbeth, or Lear, and any of the forgotten Bowery melodramas of ageneration now gone. 

She had been dressed for perhaps ten nervous minutes when the bell rang. She admitted a slight, erect, well-dressed, middle-aged man with a lean, thin-lipped face and a cold, hard, conservative eye: a man of the typethat you see by the dozens in the better hotels of New York, and seeingthem you think, if you think of them at all, that here is the cannypresident of some fair-sized bank who will not let a client borrow adollar beyond his established credit, or that here is the shrewd butunobtrusive power behind some great industry of the Middle West. 

"I'm Hannigan, " he announced briefly. "I know you're Old JimmieCarlisle's girl. The Duchess told me you wanted me on something big. What's the idea?"

"You want to get Larry Brainard, don't you?--or whoever it was thatsquealed on you?"

There was a momentary gleam in the hard, gray eyes. "I do. "

"That's why you're here. In a little over an hour, if you stay quiet inthe background, you'll have what you want. "

"You've got a swell-looking lay-out here. What's going to be pulledoff?"

"It's not what I might tell you that's going to help you. It's what youhear and see. "

"All right, " said the thin-lipped man. "I'll pass the questions, sincethe Duchess told me to do as you said. She's square, even if she doeshave a grandson who's a stool. I suppose I'm to be out of sight duringwhatever happens?"

"Yes. "

In the room there were two spacious closets, as is not infrequent in thebetter class of modern hotels; and it had been these two closets whichhad been the practical starting-point of Maggie's development of DickSherwood's proposition. To one of these she led Hannigan. 

"You'll be out of sight here, and you'll get every word. "

He stepped inside, and she closed the door. Also she took the precautionof locking it. She wished Hannigan to hear, but she wished no suchcontretemps as Hannigan bursting forth and spoiling her play when it hadreached only the middle of its necessary action. 

Barlow came promptly at half-past eight. He brought news which for a fewmoments almost completely upset Maggie's delicately balanced structure. 

"I know who you are now, " he said brusquely. "And part of your game'scold before you start. "

"Why?--What part?"

"Just after you left Headquarters Officer Gavegan showed up. He had thisLarry Brainard in tow--had pinched him out on Long Island. "

This announcement staggered Maggie; for the moment made all herstrenuous planning seem to have lost its purpose. In her normalcondition she might either have given up or betrayed her real intent. But just now, in her super-excited state, in which she felt she wasfighting desperately for others, she was acting far above her ordinarycapacity; and she was making decisions so swift that they hardly seemedto proceed from conscious thought. So Barlow, vigilant watcher of facesthat he was, saw nothing unusual in her expression or manner. 

"What did you do with him?" she asked. 

"Left him with Gavegan--and with Casey, who had just come in. Trailingwith Brainard was a swell named Hunt, cussing mad. He was snortingaround about being pals with most of the magistrates, and swore he'dhave Brainard out on bail inside an hour. But what he does don't makeany difference to me. Your proposition seems to me dead cold, since I'vealready got Brainard, and got him right. I wouldn't have bothered tohave come here at all except for something you let drop about the palshe might have been working with these last few months. "

"That's exactly it, " she caught him up. "I never thought that you'dcatch Larry Brainard here. How could I, when, if you know me as you say, you also know that he and I are in different camps--are fighting eachother? What's going to happen here is something that will show you thepeople Larry Brainard's been mixed up with--that will turn up for youthe people you want. "

"But what's going to happen?" Barlow demanded. 

To this Maggie answered in much the same strain she had used withHannigan a few minutes earlier. "I told you down at Headquarters thateverything that's important you'll learn by being present when the thingactually happened. What I tell you doesn't count for much--it might notbe true. It's what you see and hear for yourself when things begin tohappen. You're to wait in here. " She led him to the second large closetand opened the door. 

"See here, " he demanded, "are you framing something on me?"

"How can I, in a big hotel like this? And even if I were to try, you'dcertainly make me pay for it later. Besides, you've got a gun. Pleasego in quick; I'm expecting the people here any minute. And don't make asound that might arouse their suspicions and queer everything. "

He entered, and she closed the door. So carefully that he did not hearit, she locked the door; no more than in Hannigan's case did she wantBarlow to come bungling into a scene before it had reached its climax. 

All was now ready for the curtain to rise. Quivering all through shewaited for Barney Palmer, whose entrance was to open her drama. Sheglanced at her wrist-watch which she had left upon the little lacqueredwriting-table. Ten minutes of nine. Ten more minutes to wait. She feltfar more of sickening suspense than ever did any young playwright onthe opening night of his first play. For she was more than merelyplaywright. In her desperate, overwrought determination Maggie hadassumed for herself the super-mortal role of dea ex machina. And inthose moments of tense waiting Maggie, who so feverishly loathed all shehad been, was not at all sure whether she was going to succeed in herpart of goddess from the machine. 

At five minutes to nine there was a ring. She gave a little jump at thesound. That was Barney. Though generally when Barney came he used thelatch-key which his assumed dear cousinship, and the argued possibilityof their being out and thus causing him to wait around in discomfort, Miss Grierson's sense of propriety had unbent far enough to permit himto possess. The truth was, of course, that Barney had desired the keyso that he might have most private conferences with Maggie, at any timenecessity demanded, without the stolidly conscientious Miss Griersonever knowing what had happened and being therefore unable to givedangerous testimony. 

Maggie crossed and opened the door. But instead of Barney Palmer, it wasLarry who stepped in. He quickly closed the door behind him. 

"Larry!" she cried startled. "Why--why, I thought the police had you!"

"They did. But Hunt was with me, and he got hold of a magistrate whowould have made Hunt a present of the Tombs and Police Headquarters ifhe had owned them. "

"Then you're out on bail?"

"Got out about ten minutes ago. Hunt didn't have any property he couldput up as security, so he 'phoned my grandmother. She walked in with anarmload of deeds. Why, she must own as much property in New York as theAstor Estate. "

"Larry, I'm so glad!" And then, remembering what, according to her plan, was due to begin to happen almost any moment, she exclaimed in dismay:"But, Larry, oh, why did you come here now!"

"I wanted to know--you understand--what you had decided to do afterlearning about your father. And I wanted to tell you that, after all mygreat boasts to you, I seem to have failed in every boast. Item one, thepolice have got me. Item two, since the police have got me, my old palswill also most likely get me. Item three, when I was arrested at CedarCrest Miss Sherwood learned that I had known you all along and believesI was part of a conspiracy to clean out the family; so she chuckedme--and I've lost what I believed my big chance to make good. So, yousee, Maggie, it looks as if you were right when you predicted that I wasgoing to fail in everything I said I was going to do. "

"Larry--Miss Sherwood believes that!" she breathed. And then sheremembered again, and caught his arm with sudden energy. "Larry, youmustn't stay here!"

"Why not?"

Her answer was almost identical with one she had given the previousevening. "Because Barney Palmer may be here the next minute!"

His response was in sense also identical. "Then I'll stay right here. There's no one I want to see as much as Barney Palmer. And this timeI'll have it out with him!"

Maggie was in consternation at this unexpected twist which was not inthe brain-manuscript of her play at all--which indeed threatened totake her play right out of her hands. "Please go, Larry!" she crieddesperately. "And please give me a chance! You'll spoil it all if youstay!"

"I'm going to stay right here, " was his grim response. 

She realized there was no changing him. She glimpsed a closet doorbehind him, and caught at the chance of saving at least a fragment ofher drama. 

"Stay, then but, Larry, please give me a chance to do what I want todo! Please!" By this time she had dragged him across the room andhad started to unlock the closet. "Just wait in here--and keep quiet!Please!"

He took the key from her fumbling hands, unlocked the door, and slippedthe key into his pocket. "All right--I'll give you your chance, " hepromised. 

He stepped through the door and closed it upon himself, entombinghimself in blackness. The next moment the glare of a pocket flash was inhis face, blinding him. 

"Larry Brainard!" gritted a low voice in the darkness. 

Larry could see nothing, but there was no mistaking that voice. "RedHannigan!" he exclaimed. 

"Yes--you damned squealer! And I'm going to finish you off right here!"

The light clicked out, and a pair of lean hands almost closed on Larry'swind-pipe. But Larry caught the wrists of the older man in a grip theother could not break. There was a brief struggle in the blackness ofthe closet, then the slighter man stood still with his wrists manacledby Larry's hands. 

"Evidently you haven't a gun on you, Red, or you, wouldn't have triedthis, " Larry commented. "Anyhow, you couldn't have got away with killingin a big hotel, whether you had strangled me or shot me. I don't blameyou for being sore at me, Red--only you've got me all wrong. But youand I are evidently here for the same purpose: to get next to somethingthat's going to happen out in the room. What do you say, Red?--let'ssuspend hostilities for the present. You've got me where you can followme, and you can get me any time. "

"You bet I'll get you!" declared Hannigan. And then after a few morewords an armistice was agreed upon between the two men in the closetand silently, tensely, they stood in the dark awaiting whatever was tohappen. 

Outside Maggie, that amateur playwright who had tried so desperately toprearrange events, that inexperienced goddess from the machine, stood ina panic of fear and suspense the like of which she had never known. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

But when Barney's latch-key slid into the door and Barney, in a smartdinner jacket, came in, Maggie was herself again. Indeed she was betterthan herself, for there rushed to her support that added power which shehad just been despairing of, which carries some people through an hourof crisis, and which may occasionally lift an actor above himself whenfortune gives him a difficult yet splendid part which is the greatchance of his career. 

And Maggie showed to the eye that she was better than her best, forBarney exclaimed the instant he was beside her: "Gee, Maggie, you looklike the Queen of Sheba, whoever that dame was! Any guy would fall foryou to-night--and fall so hard that he'd break, or go broke!"

But Barney was too eager to await any response. "What's behind thehurry-up call you sent in? Anything broken yet?"

"Something big! But sit down. There's a lot to tell. And I must tell itquick--before my"--she could not force herself to say "father"--"beforeOld Jimmie comes, and Dick. "

"Then Dick's coming?"

"Yes. Things have taken a twist so that everything breaks to-night. Butsit down, and I'll tell you everything. "

She had noted that the door behind which Larry stood, and to whichhe had captured the key, was open a bare half-inch. It looked no moresuspicious than any closet door that by accident had swung free of itslatch, but by deft maneuvering Maggie managed so that Barney sat at thetable with his back toward both closets. 

"Go to it, Maggie, " he urged. 

The plan which had swiftly developed from Dick Sherwood's idea requiredthat she should tell much that was the truth and much that was nottruth, and required that she should play with every faculty and everyattraction she possessed upon Barney's tremendous vanity and upon hisjealous admiration of her. She had to make him believe more in her as apal than ever before; she had to make him want her more as a woman thanever before. And at this moment she felt herself thrillingly equal tothis vampire role her over-stimulated sense of justice had commanded herto undertake. 

"Things have gone great, " she began, speaking concisely, yet trying notin this eager brevity to lose the convincing effect that she wouldbe the complete mistress of any enterprise to which she yielded herinterest. "Dick Sherwood proposed to me again, and this time I said`yes. ' I saw that he was ready for anything, so I took some things intomy hands. I had to, for I saw we had to act quick even at the risk oflosing a bit of the maximum figure we had counted on. You see I realizedthe danger to us in Larry Brainard suddenly showing up, and his knowing, as he told us he did, who the sucker is that we've been stringing along. Anything might happen, any minute, from Larry Brainard that would upseteverything. So I reasoned that we had to collect quick or run the riskof never getting a nickel. "

"Some bean you've got, Maggie, " he said admiringly. "Keep your foot onthe gas pedal. "

"What I did was only, the carrying-out of the plan you had decidedon--of course carrying it out quicker, and with a few little changesthat the urgent situation demanded. After he proposed I broke down, asper schedule, and confessed that I had deceived him to the extent that Iwas already married. Married to a man I didn't love, and who didn't loveme, but who was a tight-wad and who wouldn't let me go unless he saw alot of money in it for him. And I gave Dick all the rest of the story, just as we had doped it out. "

"Great work, Maggie! How did he take it?"

"Exactly as we figured he would. He was sorry for me; it didn't make anydifference at all in his feelings for me. He'd buy my husband off--givehim any price he wanted--and just so I wouldn't have to feel myselfbound to such a man a minute longer than necessary he'd make a bargainwith him at once and pay him part of the money right down. To-night, ifhe could get in touch with my husband. And so, Barney, since we had toact quick and there was no time to bring in another man that I couldpass off as my husband, I confessed to him that I was married to you. "

"To me!" exclaimed Barney. 

"And he's coming here in less than an hour, with real money in hispockets, to see if he can't fix a deal with you. "

"Me!" exclaimed the startled Barney again. His beady eyes glowed at herardently. "Gee, you know I wish I really was married to you, Maggie! IfI was, you bet money couldn't ever pry you loose from me!"

"Well, there's the whole lay-out, Barney. It's up to you to be mygrasping, bargaining, unloving husband for about an hour. "

"I hadn't thought of myself in that part, " he objected. "I'd figuredthat we'd bring in a new man to be the husband. It's pretty dangerousfor me, my stringing Dick along all this while and then suddenly toenter the act as your husband--and to take the money. "

"Dangerous!" There was sudden contempt in her voice and in her eyes. "So you're that kind of man, Barney--afraid! And afraid after mytelling Dick you were my husband, and his swallowing the thing withouta suspicion! Well, right this minute is when we call this deal off--andevery other deal!"

"Oh, don't be so quick with that temper of yours, Maggie! I merely saidit was dangerous. Of course I'll do it. "

And then Barney asked, with a cunning he tried to hide: "But why didyou ask me to have Old Jimmie show up here right after me? We don't needhim. "

"Just what's behind your saying that, Barney?" she demanded sharply. 

He squirmed a little, then spoke the truth. "You don't love your fatherany too much, and he doesn't love you any too much--I know that. Heneedn't really know how much we take off Sherwood; if he wasn't here, he'd have to take our word for what we got and we'd tell him we gotmighty little. Then the real money would be divided fifty-fifty betweenjust you and me. "

"I may not love my father, but he's in this on the same basis as youare, or I'm out of it, " she declared. "I thought you might suggestsomething like this; that's one reason I asked you to have him come. Another reason--and this is something I forgot to tell you awhileago--when I broke down and confessed everything to Dick Sherwood, I toldDick that Old Jimmie was really my guardian; and we both agreed thathe should be present as a witness to any agreement, and to protect myinterests. Still another reason is that since we had to work so fast, the thing to do was to split the money on the spot in three ways, andthen each of us shoot off in a different direction to-night before anybad luck had a chance to break. In fact, Barney, this present minute iswhen you and I say our good-byes. "

He forgot his scheme to defraud Old Jimmie in the far greater concernaroused by her last words. He leaned across the table and tried to takeher hand, an attempt she deftly thwarted. 

"But listen, Maggie, " he asked with husky eagerness, "you and I aregoing to have an understanding to join up with each other soon, aren'twe? You know what I mean--belong to each other. You know how I feelabout: you!"

This was the principal point Maggie had been maneuvering toward. Beforeher was the most difficult scene of the many which she had planned, onher successful management of which the success of everything seemed todepend. Within she was palpitant with the strain and suspense of itall; but on Barney she held cool, appraising eyes. In this splendidcomposure, her momentary withdrawal from him, she seemed to Barney morebeautiful, more desirable, more indispensable, than at any time since hehad discovered back at the Duchess's that Maggie was a find. 

"Of course I know exactly what you mean, Barney, " she responded withdeliberation, bewitchingly alluring in her air of superiority. "I'veknown for a long time you and I would have to have a real talk. Are youready for a straight talk now?"

"As straight as you can talk it!"

"I'll probably fall for some man and marry him. Every woman does. But ifI marry him, it'll be because I love him. But my marrying a man doesn'tmean I'm going to go into business with him. I'm not going to mix lovewith business--not unless the man is the right sort of man. Of course itwould be better if the man I marry and the man I take on as a businesspartner were the same man--but I'm not going to take any risks. Youunderstand me so far. "

"Surest thing you know. And every word you've said proves that your headisn't just something to look pretty with. Let me slip this over to youright at the start--I'm the right sort of man!"

"That's exactly what I want to find out, " she continued, with herdeliberation, with the air of sitting secure upon the highest level. "I know now what I can do. I've proved it. Now I'm going right aheadputting over big things. You once told me I had it in me to be the bestever--and I now know I can be. I know I've got to tie up with a man, and the man has got to be just as good in his way as I am in mine. Right there's where I'm in doubt about you. I said I was going to talkstraight--and I'm handing it to you straight. I don't know how good youare. "

"You mean you think I'm not big enough to work with you?"

"I mean exactly what I said. I said that I didn't really know how goodyou are, and that I wasn't going to tie up with any man except thebest in the business. You've hinted now and then at a lot of big thingsyou've put across and how strong you were in certain quarters where itpaid to be strong--but I really know mighty little about you, Barney. This present job hasn't required you to do anything special, and allthe really hard work I've done myself. Of course I know you are a gooddancer, and clever with the ladies, and know how to pick up a suckerand string him along. But that's everything I do know. And, there arehundreds of men who are good at these things. The man I tie up withhas got to be good at a lot of other things--and I've got to know he'sgood!"

"Good at what other things, Maggie?" he asked with suppressed eagerness. 

"He's got to be good at putting over all kinds of situations. I don'tcare how he does it. So clever at putting things over that no one everguesses he's the man who did it. And he's got to be able to give meprotection. You know what I mean. A woman in the game I'm going in foris absolutely through, as far as doing anything big is concerned, theminute she gets a police record. I've got to have a man who's ableto stand between me and the police. And I've got to know from pastperformances that the man can do these things. Just large words aboutwhat he can do, or hints about what he has done, don't count for anickel with me. This is plain, hard business I'm talking, Barney, and Idon't mean to hurt your feelings when I tell you that you don't measureup in any way to the man I need. "

It had been difficult for Barney to hold himself until she had finished. To start with, he had the vain man's constant itch to tell of hisexploits, his dislike for the anonymity of his cleverness unjustlyascribed to some other man. And then Maggie had played upon him evenmore skillfully than she imagined. 

"I'm exactly the man you need in every way!" he exploded. 

"Those are just words, " she said evenly. "I said I had to have somethingmore than mere words. "

"I'm ace-high with Chief Barlow!"

"You've got to be more explicit. "

Barney was now all excitement. "Don't you get what that means? I'venever been locked up once, and yet I've been pulling stuff all the time!And yet look how Larry Brainard, that the bunch thought was so clever, got hooked and was sent away. I guess you know the answer!"

"Again, Barney, I've got to ask you to be more explicit. "

"Then the answer is that all the while I've been working on anunderstanding with Barlow. I guess that's explicit!"

"You mean, " she said in her cool voice, "that you've been a stool-pigeonfor Barlow?"

"Sure!--though I don't like the word. That's the only safe way ofstaying steady in the game--an understanding with the police. All thereis to it is now and then to tip the police off about some dub of acrook: of course you've got to be smooth enough not to let anyone guessyour game. "

"That doesn't seem to me such a strong talking point in your favor, " shesaid thoughtfully. 

"But don't you get the idea? I'm so strong with Barlow that I can getaway with anything I want to. That means I can give you the protectionfrom the police you just spoke about. See?"

"Yes I see. " Again she spoke thoughtfully. "But I told you I had tobe shown. You must have done some pretty big things to have got such astanding with Barlow. For example?"

"I could write you a book!" He laughed in his excited pride. "You askfor an example. I could hardly hold myself in awhile ago when you saidyou'd practically swung the present deal alone, and that I'd done almostnothing. Why, Maggie, I did just one smooth little thing without whichthere couldn't have been any deal. "

"What?"

"You'll admit that nothing would have been safe with Larry Brainarddetermined to butt in on what you did?"

"Yes. "

"Well, I'm the little guy that fixed Larry Brainard so he wouldn't hurtanyone!"

"You did that?" For the first time Maggie showed what seemed to be alive interest. "How?"

"How? You'll say it was clever when you learn how. And you'll say thatI'm the man you want on that count of being able to put over a situationso that no one will ever guess I'm the man who did it. You'll admit thatputting Larry Brainard out of business, so he'd stay out, was certainlya stiff job--for though I don't like him, I admit that Larry is one wisebird. One thing I did was to suggest to Barlow that he force Larry tobecome a police stool. I knew Larry would refuse, and I figured outeverything else exactly as it has happened. I ask you, wasn't thatputting something clever over?"

"It certainly was clever!" admired Maggie. 

"Wait! That's only half. To finish Larry off so that he wouldn't have achance I had to finish him off not only with the cops, but also withhis pals. So I tipped off Barlow to the game Red Hannigan and JackRosenfeldt were pulling and--"

"Then Larry Brainard really didn't do that?"

"No; I did it! Listen--there's some more to it. I spread the word, sothat it seemed to be a leak from the Police Department, that it wasLarry who had squealed on Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt. Did his oldpals start out to get Larry? Well, now, did they! If I do say it myself, that was smooth work!"

"It was wonderful!" agreed Maggie. 

"And there's still more, Maggie! You remember that charge of stick-upand attempted murder of a Chicago guy that the police are trying to landLarry on? I put that over! I'm the party that was messed up in that. Iwas trying to put over a neat little job all on my own; but somethingwent wrong just as I thought I was cleaning out the sucker, and I had tobe rough with that Chicago guy in order to make a get-away from him. Ibeat it straight to Barlow, and said that right here was the chance tofasten something on Larry. Barlow took my tip. My foot may have slippedon the original job, but my bean certainly did act quick, and you've gotto admit I turned an apparent failure into something bigger than successwould have been. And that's certainly traveling!"

"It certainly is!"

"And now, Maggie "--Barney pressed her eagerly--"I've shown you I'm justthe sort you said a man had to be for you to tie up with him. I've shownyou I can guarantee you police protection. And I've shown you I'm ableto put over clever situations without any one ever guessing I'm theparty who put 'em over. I fit all your specifications! How about oursettling right now to join up some place--Toronto's the best bet--saythree days after we make our get-away after to-night's clean-up? Let'sbe quick about this, Maggie--before Old Jimmie comes in. He's due anyminute now!"

"Isn't that him at the door now?" breathed Maggie. 

Both waited intently for a moment. But though she pretended so, Maggie'sinterest was not upon the outer door. Her attention was fixed, as it hadbeen with sickening fear this last minute, upon that half-inch crackin the closet door behind Barney. Why had she, in her dismayed urgence, allowed Larry to possess himself of that closet key?--when her plan hadbeen to keep Hannigan as well as Barlow forcibly behind the scenesuntil she had acted out her play? She now hoped almost against hope thatHannigan would not burst forth and ruin what was yet to come. Since thatdoor unluckily had to be unlocked, her one chance was given her by thepresence of Larry. Perhaps Larry could perceive the larger things shewas striving for, and in some way restrain Hannigan. 

These thoughts were but an instant in passing through her brain. Barney's eyes came back from the outer door to her face. "That's not OldJimmie yet. "

"No, " her lips said. But her brain was saying, since the crack stillremained a half-inch crack, "Larry understands--he's holding back RedHannigan!"

Barney returned swiftly to his charge. "How about Toronto, Maggie--sayexactly seventy-two hours from now--the Royal Brunswick Hotel?"

Maggie realized she could no longer put him off if she were to keephim unsuspicious for the next hour. Besides, in her desperatedisillusionment concerning herself, she did not care what happened toher, or what people might think of her, if only she could keep this playgoing till its final moment. 

"Yes, " she said--"if we each feel the same way toward each other whenthis evening's ended. "

"Maggie!" he cried. "Maggie!" This time, when he exultantly caught ather hand, she dared not refuse it to him. And she felt an additionalloathing for Barney's caress because she knew that Larry was a witnessto it. 

Indeed, it was difficult for Larry, at the sight of Maggie's hand inBarney's too eager palms, to hold himself in check; and to do this inaddition to holding in check the slight, quivering Red Hannigan, whosecollar and whose right wrist he had been gripping these last threeminutes. For Larry, as Maggie had hoped, had dimly apprehended somethingof Maggie's plan, and he felt himself bound by the promise she hadextracted from him, to let her go through with whatever she had underway; though he had no conception of her plan's extent, and could, ofcourse, not know of the intention of her overwrought mind to give herplan its final touch in what amounted to her own self-destruction, andin her vanishing utterly out of the knowledge of all who knew her. 

Another minute passed; then Larry heard three peculiar rings of the bellof the outer door--an obvious signal. Maggie answered the summons, and Larry saw Old Jimmie enter. There followed a rapid and compactconference between the three, the substance of which was the telling ofOld Jimmie of the developments against Dick Sherwood which Maggie hada little earlier recited to Barney, together with instructions to OldJimmie concerning his new role as Maggie's guardian. It seemed to Larrythat he caught signs of uneasiness in Jimmie, but to all the older mannodded his head. 

Presently there was a loud ring. "That's Dick!" exclaimed Barney in awhisper. "And mighty eager, too--shows that by being ahead of the timeyou set! Let him in, Maggie. "

Maggie was startled by the ring, though she did not show it. She thoughtrapidly. She had definitely asked Dick to telephone before coming. Whyhadn't he telephoned? Perhaps something had happened to prevent it, orperhaps an idea had come to him by which their plan could be betteredwithout a telephone message. In either case, she and Dick might haveto improvise and deftly catch cues tossed to each other, as experiencedactors sometimes do without the audience ever knowing that a hiatus inthe play has been skillfully covered. 

Maggie stood up. "You both understand what you're to do?"

Both whispered "yes. " Larry watched Maggie start across the room, hiswhole figure quivering with suspense as to what was going to happen whenDick entered. He was quite sure there was more here than appeared uponthe surface, quite sure that Maggie did not intend that the businesswith Dick should work out as she had outlined. What could Maggiepossibly be up to? he asked himself in feverish wonderment, and couldfind no answer. For of course Larry had no knowledge of that mostimportant fact: that Maggie had actually made a confession to Dick--notthe fraudulent confession she had told Barney of--but an honest andcomplete confession, and that in consequence she and Dick were workingin cooperation. 

From his crack Larry could not quite see the outer door. But after sheopened the door he saw Maggie fall back with an inarticulate cry, herface suddenly blanched with astounded fright. And then Larry experiencedone of the greatest surprises of his life--a surprise so unnerving thathe almost loosed his hold upon Red Hannigan. For instead of Dick therewalked into the room the tall, white-haired figure of Joe Ellison, andJoe's lean, prison-blanched face was aquiver with a devastating purpose. How in the name of God had Joe come to be here?--and what did thatterrible look portend?

But Larry's surprise was but an unperturbing emotion compared to theeffect of her father's appearance, with his terrible face, upon Maggie. Life seemed suddenly to go out of her. She realized that the clever playwhich she had constructed so rapidly, and upon which she had counted toclear the tangle for which she was in part responsible, and to bringher back in time as the seeming fulfillment of the dream of a happy andundisillusioned father--she realized that her poor, brilliant playhad come to an instant end before it was fairly started, and that thecontrol of events had passed into other hands. 

CHAPTER XXXV

At the entrance of Joe Ellison instead of the expected Dick, Barney andOld Jimmie had sprung up from the table in amazement. Joe strode pastMaggie, hardly heeding his daughter, and faced the two men. 

"I guess you know me, Jimmie Carlisle!" said Joe with a terrifyingrestraint of tone. "The pal I trusted--the pal I turned everything overto--the pal who double-crossed me in every way!"

"Joe Ellison!" gasped Jimmie, suddenly as ghastly as a dead man. "I--Ididn't know you were out. "

"I'm out, all right. But I'll probably go in again for what I'm going todo to you! And you there"--turning on Barney--"you're got up enough likea professional dancer to be the Barney Palmer I've heard of!"

"What business is it of yours who I am?" Barney tried to bluster. "Perhaps you won't mind introducing yourself. "

"I'm the man who's going to settle with you and Old Jimmie Carlisle! Isthat introduction enough. If not, then I'm Joe Ellison, the father ofthis girl here you call Maggie Carlisle and Maggie Cameron, that you twohave made into a crook. "

"Your daughter!" exclaimed Barney in stupefaction. "Why, she's JimmieCarlisle's--"

"He's always passed her off as such; that much I've learned. Speakup, Jimmie Carlisle! Whose daughter is this girl you've turned into acrook?"

"Your daughter, Joe, " stammered Old Jimmie. "But about my making herinto a crook--you're--you're all wrong there. "

"So she's not a crook, and you didn't make her one?" demanded Joe withthe calm of unexploded dynamite whose fuse is sputtering. "I left youabout twelve or fifteen hundred a year to bring her up on--as a decent, respectable girl. That's twenty-five or thirty a week. If she's not acrook, how can she on twenty-five a week have all the swell clothesI've seen her in, and be living in a suite like this that costs fromtwenty-five to fifty a day? And if she isn't a crook, why is she mixedup with two such crooks as you? And if she isn't a crook, why is she ina game to trim young Dick Sherwood?"

The two men started and wilted at these driving questions. "But--but, Joe, " stammered Old Jimmie, "you've gone out of your head. She's not inany such game. She never even heard of any Dick Sherwood. "

"Cut out your lies, Jimmie Carlisle!" Joe ordered harshly. "We've gotsomething more to do here, the four of us, than to waste any time onlies. And just to prove to you that your lies will be wasted, I'll layall my cards face up on the table. Since I got out I've been working forthe Sherwoods. Larry Brainard was working there before me, and got memy job. I've seen this girl here--my daughter that you've made into acrook--out there twice. Dick Sherwood was supposed to be in love withher. At the end of this afternoon some officers came to the Sherwoods'and arrested Larry Brainard. I was working outside, overheard whatwas happening, and crept up on the porch. Officer Gavegan, who was incharge, found a painting among Larry Brainard's things. Miss Sherwoodsaid that it was a picture of Miss Maggie Cameron who had been visitingthere, and I could see that it was. Officer Gavegan said it was apicture of Maggie Carlisle, daughter of Jimmie Carlisle, and that shewas a crook. Larry Brainard, cornered, had to admit that Gavegan wasright. I guessed at once who Maggie Carlisle was, since she was just theage my girl would have been and since you never had any children. And that's how, Jimmie Carlisle, standing there outside the window, "concluded the terrible voice of Joe Ellison, "I learned for the firsttime that the baby I'd trusted with you to be brought up straight, andthat I believed was now happy somewhere as a nice, decent girl, you hadreally brought up as your own daughter and trained to be a crook!"

Old Jimmie shrank back from Joe's blazing eyes; his mouth openedspasmodically, but no words came therefrom. There was stupendous silencein the room. Within the closet, Larry now understood that low, strangesound he had heard on the Sherwoods' porch and which Gavegan and Hunthad investigated. It had been the suppressed cry of Joe Ellison whenhe had learned the truth--the difference between his dreams and thereality. He could not imagine what that moment had been to Joe: theswift, unbelievable knowledge that had seemed to be tearing his verybeing apart. 

Larry had an impulse to step out to Joe's side. But just as a littleearlier he had felt the scene had belonged to Maggie, he now felt thatthis situation, the greatest in Joe's life, belonged definitely to Joe, was almost sacredly Joe's own property. Also he felt that he was aboutto learn many things which had puzzled him. Therefore he held himselfback, at the same time keeping his hold upon Red Hannigan. 

During this moment of silence, while Larry was wondering what was goingto happen, his eyes also took in the figure of Maggie, all her powersof action and expression still paralyzed by appalling consternation. Heunderstood, at least to a degree, what she was going through. He knewthis much of her plan: that she had intended to cut loose in some wayfrom Barney and Old Jimmie, and that she had intended that her fathershould continue to cherish the dream that had been his happiness for solong. And now her father had come upon her in the company of Barney andOld Jimmie and in a situation whose every superficial circumstance wassuch as to make him believe the worst of her!

Joe turned on the smartly dressed Barney. "I'll take you first, youimitation swell, because I'm saving Jimmie Carlisle to the last!" wenton Joe's crunching voice. "I'm going to twist your damned neck for whatyou've helped do to my girl, but if you want to say anything first, sayit. "

Barney's response was a swift movement of his right hand toward hisleft armpit. But Barney Palmer, like almost all his kind, was a veryindifferent gunman; and he had no knowledge of the reputation formasterful quickness that had been Joe Ellison's twenty years earlier. Before his compact automatic was fairly out of its holster beneath hisarmpit, it was in Joe Ellison's hands. 

"I sized you up for that kind of rat and was watching you, " continuedJoe in his same awful grimness. "I'm not going to shoot you, unless youmake me. I'm going to twist that pretty neck of yours. But first, outwith anything you've got to say for yourself!"

"I haven't had anything to do with this business, " said Barney, tryingto affect a bold manner. 

"You lie! I know that in this game against Dick Sherwood, in which youused my girl, you were the real leader!"

"Well--even if I did use your girl, I only used her the way I foundher. "

"You lie again! I know how your kind work: cleverly putting crookedideas into girls' minds, and exciting their imagination, so they'll workwith you. Your case is closed. " He turned to his one-time friend. "Whathave you got to say for yourself, Jimmie Carlisle?"

Old Jimmie believed that his last hour was come. He showed somethingof the defiant, almost maniacal courage of a coward who realizes he canretreat no farther. 

"What I got to say, Joe Ellison, " he snarled in a sudden rage whichbared his yellow teeth, "is that I'm even with you at last!"

"Even with me? What for?"

"For the way you double-crossed me in nineteen-one in that Gordonbusiness. You never gave me a dime--said the thing had fallen down--yetI know there was a big haul!"

"I told you the truth. That Gordon thing was a fizzle. "

"There's where you're lying! It was a clean-up! And I knew you'd beencheating me out of my share in other deals!"

"You're absolutely wrong, Jimmie Carlisle. But if you thought that, whydidn't you have it out with me at the time?"

"Because I knew you would lie! You were a better talker than I was, andsince our outfit always sided with you, I knew I wouldn't have a chancethen. But I reasoned that if I kept quiet and kept on being your friend, I'd get my chance to get even if I waited awhile. I waited--and Icertainly got my chance!"

"Go on, Jimmie Carlisle!"

And Old Jimmie went on--a startlingly different Old Jimmie, his pent-upevil now loosed into quivering, malignant triumph; went on with thefeverish exultation of a twisted, perverted mind that has broodedlong over an imagined injustice, that has brooded greedily and long inprivate over his revenge, and at last has his chance to gloat in theopen. 

"When you were sent away, Joe Ellison, and turned over your daughter tome with those orders about seeing that she was brought up as a decentgirl, I began to see the big chance I'd been waiting for. I askedmyself, What is the dearest thing in the world to Joe Ellison? Theanswer was, this idea he'd got about his girl. I asked myself, What isthe biggest way I can get even with Joe Ellison? The answer was, to makeJoe Ellison believe all the time he's in stir that his girl is growingup the way he wants her to be and yet to bring her up the exact thing hedidn't want her to be. And that's exactly what I did!"

"You--did--such a thing?" breathed Joe Ellison, almost incredulous. 

"That's exactly what I did!" Old Jimmie went on, gloatingly. "It waseasy. No one knew you had a daughter, so I passed her off as my own babyby a marriage I'd not told any one about. I saw that she always livedamong crooks, looked at things the way crooks do, and grew up withno other thought than to be a crook. I never had an idea of using hermyself, till she began to look like such a good performer this lastyear; and then my idea, no matter what Barney Palmer may have planned, was to use her only in a couple of stunts. My main idea always was, whenyou came out with your grand idea of what your girl had grown up to be, for you suddenly to see your girl, and know her as your girl, and knowher to be a crook. That smash to you was the big thing to me--what I'dplanned for, and waited for. I didn't expect the blow-off to come likethis; I didn't expect to be caught in it when it did happen. But sinceit has happened, well--There's your daughter, Joe Ellison! Look at her!Look at what I've made her! I guess I'm even all right!"

"My God!" breathed Joe Ellison, staring at the lean face twisting withtriumphant malignancy. "I didn't think there could be such a man!"

He slowly turned upon Maggie. This was the first direct recognition hehad taken of her since his entrance. 

"I don't suppose you can guess what your being what you are has meantto me, " he began in a numbed tone which grew accusingly harsh as hecontinued. "But I'd think that a daughter of mine, with such a mother, would have had more instinctive sense than to have gone into such a gamewith such a pair of crooks!"

"It's true--I have been what you think me--I did go into this thingagainst Dick Sherwood, " Maggie responded in a voice that at first wasfaltering, then that stumbled rapidly on in her eagerness to pour outall the facts. "But--but Larry Brainard had kept after me--and finallyhe made me see how wrong I was headed. And then, this afternoon, beforeI spoke to you, Larry told me that you were my real father. WhenI learned the truth--how I had been cheated out of being somethingelse--how I was the exact opposite of what you had wanted me to be andbelieved me to be--I felt about it almost exactly as you feel about it. I--I made up my mind to clear up at once all the wrong I was responsiblefor--and then disappear in such a way that you'd never have your dreamof me spoiled. And so--and so this afternoon, after I left Cedar Crest, I confessed the whole truth to Dick Sherwood--about our plan to cheathim. And like the really splendid fellow he is, Dick Sherwood offered tohelp me set straight the things I wanted to set straight. Particularlyto clear Larry Brainard. And so my being here as you find me is partof a plan between Dick Sherwood and myself. It's really a frame-up. Aframe-up to catch Barney Palmer and Jimmie Carlisle. "

"A frame-up!" ejaculated these two in startled unison. 

"How a frame-up?" demanded her father, no bit of the accusing harshnessgone out of his voice. 

"Our plan against Dick Sherwood was to have him propose to me, then forme to confess that I was really married to a mean sort of man I didn'tlove--the idea being that Dick would be infatuated enough to pay a bigsum to a dummy husband, and the three of us would disappear as soon aswe got Dick's money. Dick offered to go through with the plan asBarney Palmer and Jimmie Carlisle had shaped it up--go through with itto-night--and then after money had passed, we'd have a criminal caseagainst them. By reminding him that Larry Brainard knew just what wewere up to, and might spoil everything if we didn't act at once, I gotBarney Palmer worked up to the point where he was going to pose as myhusband and take the money. Dick Sherwood was to come a little later, after he'd first telephoned me, with a big roll of marked money. "

There were stuttered exclamations from Barney and Old Jimmie, whichwere cut off by the dominant incisiveness of Joe Ellison's words to hisdaughter:

"I think you're lying to me! Besides, even if you're telling the truth, it's a pretty way you've taken to clear things up! Don't you see that byletting Dick Sherwood come here and play such a part, you'd be dead sureto involve him and his family in a dirty police story that the papersof the whole country would play up as a sensation? It's plain to any onethat that's no way a person who wanted to square things would use DickSherwood. And that's why I think you're lying!"

"I had thought of that--you're right, " said Maggie. "And so I wasn'tgoing to do it. He was going to telephone me--just about this time--andwhen he called up I was going to fake his message. I was going to tellBarney Palmer and Old Jimmie that Dick had just telephoned he wasn'tcoming, because one of the two had just sold him a tip for ten thousanddollars that this was a crooked game. I thought this would have starteda quarrel between the two; they are suspicious of each other, anyhow. Each would have accused the other, and in their quarrel they would havebeen likely to have let out a lot of truth that would have completelygiven each other away. "

"Not a bad plan at all, " commented Joe Ellison. He tried to peer deepinto his daughter for a moment, his inflamed face relaxing neither inits harshness nor its doubt of her. "But since you are the clever crookI actually know you to be from your work on Dick Sherwood, and sinceJimmie Carlisle says he has trained you to be a crook, I believe thateverything you've told me is just something you've cleverly invented onthe spur of the moment--just so many lies. "

"But--but--"

She broke off before the harsh, accusing doubt of his pale face. Fora fraction of a moment no one spoke. Then the telephone bell began toring. 

"Dick!" breathed Maggie, and started for the telephone. 

"Stay right where you are!" her father ordered. "I'll answer thattelephone myself, and see whether you're lying to me about DickSherwood!... No, we'll do this together. I'll hold the receiver and hearwhat he says. You'll do the talking and you'll answer just what I tellyou to, and you'll keep your hand tight over the mouthpiece while I'mgiving you your orders. You two"--to Barney and Old Jimmie, with asignificant movement of Barney's automatic--"you'd better behave whilethis telephone business is going on. "

The next moment Larry was hearing, or rather witnessing, the strangesttelephone conversation of his experience. Maggie was holding thetransmitter, and Joe had the receiver at his ears, grimly covering thetwo men with the automatic. Maggie obediently kept her palm tight overthe mouthpiece during Joe's brief whispered directions, and no one inthe room except Joe, not even Maggie, had the slightest idea of what wasreally passing over the wires. 

What Larry heard was no more than a dozen most commonplace words in theworld, transformed into the most absorbing words in the language. Joeordered Maggie to answer with "hello" in her usual tone, which she did, and Joe, after a startled expression at the first words that came overthe wire, listened with immobile face for four or five seconds. Then henodded imperatively to Maggie and she put her hand over the mouthpiece. 

"Ask him how much, and when he wanted it to be paid, " he ordered. 

"How much, and when does he want it to be paid?" repeated Maggie. 

Again Joe listened for several moments; and then ordered as before: "Say'Yes. '"

"Yes, " said Maggie. 

Another period of waiting, and Joe ordered: "Say, 'I've got a muchbetter plan that supersedes the old. '"

"I've got a much better plan that supersedes the old. "

There was yet another period of waiting, then Joe commanded: "Tell himhe really mustn't and say good-bye quick. "

"You really mustn't! Good-bye!"

The instant her "Good-bye" was out of her mouth Joe clicked the receiverupon its hook, and stood regarding the breathless Maggie. His pale, stern face was not quite so severe as before. Presently he spoke: "Iknow now that you really were sick of what you'd been trying to do--thatyou'd really broken away from these two--that you'd really confessed toDick, and are now all square with him. "

The word "Father!" struggled chokingly toward her lips. But she onlysaid:

"I'm glad--you know. "

"And you were shrewd in that guess you made of what one of these twowould do. " Joe crossed back to Barney and Old Jimmie. "You two musthave been almighty afraid, because of Larry Brainard, that your game wassuddenly collapsing, and each must have been trying to grab a piece forhimself before he ran away. "

"What you talking about?" gruffly demanded Barney. 

"Perhaps I'm talking about you. But more particularly about JimmieCarlisle. For just now Dick Sherwood said when he telephoned, that anhour or two ago Jimmie Carlisle had hunted him up, had hinted that hewas going to lose a lot of money unless he was properly advised, andoffered to give him certain valuable information for five thousandcash. "

Barney turned upon his partner. "You damned thief!" he snarled, tensedas if about to spring upon the other. 

Old Jimmie, turned greenishly pale, shrank away from Barney, his everyexpression proclaiming his guilt. Then Maggie again found her voice:

"And at about the same time Barney was trying to double-cross JimmieCarlisle, Barney proposed to me that, after we'd got Dick Sherwood'smoney, we'd tell Jimmie Carlisle we'd got very little, and divide thereal money fifty-fifty between just us two. "

"You damned thief!" snarled Old Jimmie back at his partner. 

The next moment Barney and Old Jimmie were upon each other, strikingwildly, clawing. But the moment after Joe Ellison, his repressed ragenow unloosed, and with the super-strength of his supreme fury, had tornthe two apart. 

"You don't do that to each other--that job belongs to me!" he cried. His right arm flung Barney backward so that Barney went staggering overhimself and sprawled upon the floor. Joe gripped Old Jimmie's collar, and his right hand painfully twisted Jimmie's arm. "And I finish you offfirst, Jimmie Carlisle, for what you've done to me and my girl! But forLarry Brainard you, Jimmie Carlisle, would have succeeded in your schemeto make my girl a crook! I'd like to give you a thousand years of agony, you damned rat--but that's beyond me!" His right hand shifted swiftlyfrom Old Jimmie's arm to his throat. "But I'm going to choke your rat'slife out of you!--your lying, sneaking devil's life out of you!"

Old Jimmie squirmed and twisted with those long fingers clampedmercilessly around his throat, his eyes rolling, and his mouth gapingwith voiceless cries. He was indeed being shaken as a rat might beshaken. 

"Don't!--Don't!" cried the frantic Maggie, and started to seize herfather to pull him away. But she was halted by her arm being caught byBarney. 

"Let Jimmie have it!" he said fiercely to her, and flung her to thefarthest corner of the room. And grimly exultant over what seemed to beOld Jimmie's doom, he started for the door to make his own escape. 

Up to the moment of Joe Ellison's eruption Larry had felt bound toremain a mere spectator where he was: long as the time had seemed tohim, it had in fact been less than half an hour. He had felt bound atfirst by his promise to Maggie to let her work out her plan; and boundlater by his sense that this situation belonged to Joe Ellison. But nowthis swift crisis dissolved all such obligations. He sprang from hiscloset to take his part in the drama that was so swiftly unfolding. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

Larry caught and whirled around Barney Palmer just as the hand of theescaping Barney was on the knob of the outer door. 

"No, you don't, Barney Palmer!" he cried. "You stay right here!"

Startled as Barney was by this appearance of his dearest enemy, hewasted no precious time on mere words. He swung a vicious blow at Larry, intended to remove this barrier to his freedom. But the experiencedLarry let it glance off his forearm, and with the need of aninstantaneous conclusion he sent a terrific right to Barney's chin. Barney staggered back, fell in a crumpled heap, and lay motionless. 

Sparing only the fraction of a second to see that Barney was momentarilyout of it, Larry sprang upon Joe Ellison and tried to break the deadlygrips Joe held upon Old Jimmie. 

"Stop, Joe--stop!" he cried peremptorily. "Your killing Jimmie Carlisleisn't going to help things!"

Without relaxing his holds, Joe turned upon this interferer. 

"Larry Brainard! How'd you come in here?"

"I've been here all the time. But, Joe--don't kill Jimmie Carlisle!"

"You keep out--this is my business!" Joe fiercely replied. "If you'vebeen here all the time, then you know what he's done to me, and whathe's done to my girl! You know he deserves to have his neck twistedoff--and I'm going to twist it off!"

Larry perceived that Joe's sense of tremendous injury had made him forthe moment a madman in his rage. Only the most powerful appeal had achance to bring him back to sanity. 

"Listen, Joe--listen!" he cried desperately, straining to hold back theother's furious strength from its destructive purpose. "After what'shappened, every one is bound to know that Maggie is your daughter!Understand that, Joe?--every one will know that Maggie is your daughter!It's not going to help you to be charged with murder. And think ofthis, Joe--what's it going to do to your daughter to have her father amurderer?"

"What's that?" Joe Ellison asked dazedly. 

Larry saw that his point had penetrated to the other's reason. So hedrove on, repeating what he had said. 

"Understand this, Joe?--every one will now know that Maggie is yourdaughter! You simply can't prevent their knowing that now! Remember howfor over fifteen years you've been trying to do the best you could forher! Do you now want to do the worst thing you can do? The worst thingyou can do for Maggie is to make her father a murderer!"

"I guess that's right Larry, " he said huskily. "Thanks. "

He pushed the half-strangled Jimmie Carlisle away from him. "You'll getyours in some other way!" he said grimly. 

Old Jimmie, staggering, caught the back of a chair for support. Hetenderly felt his throat and blinked at Larry and Joe and Maggie. Hedid not try to say anything. In the meantime Barney had recoveredconsciousness, had struggled up, and was standing near Old Jimmie. Their recognition that they were sharers of defeat had served to restoresomething of the sense of alliance between the two. 

"Well, anyhow, Larry Brainard, " snarled Barney, "you haven't hadanything to do with putting this across!"

It was Joe Ellison who replied. "Larry Brainard has had everything todo with putting this across. He's been beating you all the time from thevery beginning, though you may not have known it. And though he's seemedto be out of things for the last few hours, he's been the actual powerbehind everything that's happened up to this minute. So don't foolyourself--Larry Brainard has beaten you out at every point!"

A sense of triumph glowed within Larry at this. There had been a timewhen he had wanted the animal satisfaction which would have come fromhis giving violent physical punishment to these two--particularly toBarney. But he had no desire now for such empty vengeance. 

"Well, I guess you've got nothing on me, " Barney growled at them, "soI'll be moving along. Better come, too, Jimmie. "

While he spoke a figure had moved from Larry's closet with the silenceof a swift shadow. It's thin hand gripped Barney's shoulder. 

"I guess _I've_ got something on you!" it said. 

Barney whirled. "Red Hannigan!" he gasped. 

"Yes, Red Hannigan!--you stool--you squealer!" said Red Hannigan. "Iheard you brag about being Barlow's stool, and I heard everything elseyou bragged about to Joe Ellison's girl. I'd bump you off right now ifI had my gat with me and if I had any chance at a get-away. But I'llbe looking after you, and the gang will be looking after you, till youdie--the same as you set us after Larry Brainard! No matter what elsehappens to you, you'll always have that as something extra waiting foryou! And when the time comes, we'll get you!"

As silently as he had appeared from the closet, as silently he lethimself out of the room. The glowering features of Barney had faded toa pasty white while Hannigan had spoken, and now the hand which tried tobring a handkerchief to his lips shook so that he could hardly find hisface. For none knew so well as Barney Palmer how inescapable was thisthing which would be hanging over him until the end of his days. 

Before any one in the room could speak there came a loud pounding fromwithin the door of the closet Larry and Red Hannigan had not occupied. "Oh, I'd completely forgotten!" exclaimed Maggie--and indeed she hadforgotten all that was not immediately connected with the situationcreated by her father's unexpected entrance. She crossed and unlockedthe door, and Barlow stepped out. 

"Chief Barlow!" exclaimed the astonished Larry, and all the other mengazed at the Chief of Detectives with an equal surprise. 

"He is part of my frame-up, " Maggie explained at large. "I wanted boththe police and Larry's old friends to know the truth at first hand--andclear him before I went away. "

"Wasn't that Red Hannigan who just spoke?" were Barlow's first words. 

"Yes, " said Larry. 

Barney, and Old Jimmie as well, had perked up at the appearance ofBarlow, as though at aid which had come just in time. But Barlow turnedupon Barney a cold police eye. 

"I heard you brag that you were my stool. That's a lie. "

"Why--why--Chief--" Barney stammered. He had counted upon help here, where there had existed mutually advantageous relations for so long. 

"I heard you say you had my protection. That's another lie. You'vesquealed on a few people, but I've never given you a thing. "

Barney gasped at this. He knew, as every one in the room also knew, that Barlow was lying. But Barlow held all the cards. Rough and ruthlesspolice politician that he was, he made it his business always to holdthe highest cards. As sick of soul as a man can be, Barney realized thatBarlow was doing exactly what Barlow always did--was swinging to theside that had the most evidence and that would prove most advantageousto him. And Barney realized that he was suffering the appointed fateof all stool-pigeons who are found out by their fellow criminals to bestool-pigeons. Such informers are of no further use, and according tothe police code they must be given punishment so severe as to dissipateany unhealthy belief on the public's part that there could ever havebeen any alliance between the two. 

"I've used this young lady who seems to have been Jimmie Carlisle'sdaughter and now seems to be the daughter of this old-timer Joe Ellison, for a little private sleuthing on my own hook, " Barlow went on--for itwas the instinct of the man to claim the conception and leadershipof any idea in whose development he had a part. He spoke in a brusquetone--as why should he not, since he was addressing an audience helumped together as just so many crooks? "Through this little stunt Ipulled to-night, I've got on to your curves, Barney Palmer. And yours, too, Jimmie Carlisle. And I'm going to run the pair of you in. "

This was too much for Barney Palmer. Even though he knew that hisposition as a stool, who was known to be a stool, was without hopewhatever, he went utterly to pieces. 

"For God's sake, Chief, " he burst out frantically, "you're not going totreat me like that! You could get me out of this easy! Think of all I'vedone for you! For God's sake, Chief--for God's sake--"

"Shut up!" ordered Barlow, doubling a big fist. 

Chokingly Barney obeyed. Old Jimmie, coward though he was, and lackingentirely Barney's quality of a bravo, had accepted the situation withthe twitching calm of one to whom the worst has often happened. "Shutup, " repeated Barlow, "and get it fixed in your beans that I'm going torun you two in. "

"Run them in because of this Sherwood affair?" asked Larry. 

"Surest thing you know. I've got all the evidence I seed. "

"But--" Larry was beginning protestingly, when the doorbell rang again. Maggie opened the door, and there entered Miss Sherwood, with Hunt justbehind her, and Dick just behind him, and Casey and Gavegan followingthese three. All in the room were surprised at this invasion with thesole exception of Joe Ellison. 

"When Mr. Dick spoke over the 'phone about your coming, " he said to MissSherwood, "I asked you not to do it. "

Barlow was prompt to speak, and the sudden change in his voice wouldhave been amazing to those who do not know how the little great menof the Police Department, and other little great men, can alter theirtones. He had recognized Miss Sherwood at once, as would any one else atall acquainted with influential New York. 

"Miss Sherwood, I believe, " he said, essaying a slight bow. 

"Yes. Though I fear I have not the pleasure of knowing you. "

"Deputy Barlow, head of the Detective Bureau of the Police Department, "he informed her. "Entirely at your service. "

"Just what is going on here?" she queried. "I know a part of whathas happened"--she was addressing herself particularly to Maggie andLarry--"for Dick telephoned me about seven, and I came right into town. He told me everything he knew--which threw a different light on a lotof events--and Dick telephoned at about nine that I was coming over. Butsomething more seems to have happened. "

"Miss Sherwood, it's like--" began Barlow. 

"Just a second, Chief, " Larry interrupted. Larry knew what a sensationalstory this would be as it had developed--and he knew in advance just howit would be seized upon and played up by the newspapers. And Larry didnot want unpleasant publicity for his friends (three in that room weretrying to make a fresh start in life), nor for those who had been hisfriends. "Chief, do you want to make an arrest on a charge which willinvolve every person in this room in a sensational story? Of course Iknow most of us here don't weigh anything with you. But why drag MissSherwood, who is innocent in every way, into a criminal story that willserve to cheapen her and every decent person involved? Besides, it canonly be a conspiracy charge, and there's more than a probability thatyou can't prove your case. So why make an arrest that will drag in MissSherwood?"

Barlow had a mind which functioned with amazing rapidity on matterspertaining to his own interest. He realized on the instant how it mightcount for him in the future if he were in a position to ask a favor of aperson of Miss Sherwood's standing; and he spoke without hesitation:

"I don't know anything about this Sherwood matter. If anyone ever asksme, they'll not get a word. "

There was swift relief on the faces of Barney and Old Jimmie; to beinstantly dispelled by Chief Barlow's next statement which followed hislast with only a pause for breath:

"The main thing we want is to stick these two crooks away. " He turned onBarney and Old Jimmie. "I've just learned you two fellows are the birdsI want for that Gregory stock business. I've got you for fair on that. It'll hold you a hundred times tighter than any conspiracy charge. Casey, Gavegan--hustle these two crooks out of here. "

The next moment Casey and Gavegan had handcuffs on the prisoners andwere leading them out. 

"Good for you, Larry, " Casey whispered warmly as he went by with Barney. "I knew you were going to win out, though it might be an extra-inninggame!"

At the door Barlow paused. "I hope I've done everything all right, MissSherwood?"

"Yes--as far as I know, Mr. Barlow. "

Again Barlow started out, and again turned. "And you, Brainard, " hesaid, rather grudgingly, "I guess you needn't worry any about thatcharge against you. It'll be dropped. "

And with that Barlow followed his men and his prisoners out of the room. 

Then for a moment there was silence. As Larry saw and felt that moment, it was a moment so large that words would only make a faltering failurein trying to express it. He himself was suddenly free of all cloudsand all dangers. He had succeeded in what he had been trying to do withMaggie. A father and a daughter were meeting, with each knowing theirrelationship, for the first time. There was so much to be said, amongall of them, that could only be said as souls relaxed and got acquaintedwith each other. 

It was so strained, so stupendous a moment that it would quickly havebecome awkward and anti-climacteric but for the tact of Miss Sherwood. 

"Mr. Brainard, " she began, in her smiling, direct manner, with a touchof brisk commonplace in it which helped relieve the tension, "I wantto apologize to you for the way I treated you late this afternoon. As Isaid, I've just had a talk with Dick and he's told me everything--exceptsome things we may all have to tell each other later. I was entirelyin the wrong, and you were entirely in the right. And the way you'vehandled things seems to have given Dick just that shock which you saidhe needed to awaken him to be the man it's in him to be. I'm sure we allcongratulate you. "

She gave Larry no chance to respond. She knew the danger, in such anemotional crisis as this, of any let-up. So she went right on in herbrisk tone of ingratiating authority. 

"I guess we've all been through too much to talk. You are all comingright home with me. Mr. Brainard and Mr. Ellison live there, I'm theirboss, and they've got to come. And you've got to come, Miss Ellison, ifyou don't want to offend me. I won't take 'no. ' Besides, your place isnear your father. Wear what you have on; in a half a minute you can putenough in a bag to last until to-morrow. To-morrow we'll send in forthe rest of your things--whatever you want--and send a note to your MissGrierson, paying her off. You and your father will have my car, " sheconcluded, "Mr. Brainard and Dick will ride in Dick's car, and Mr. Huntwill take me. "

And as she ordered, so was it. 

For fifteen minutes--perhaps half an hour--after it rolled away fromthe Grantham Hotel there was absolute stillness in Miss Sherwood'slimousine, which she had assigned to Maggie and her father. Maggie wasnear emotional collapse from what she had been through; and now shewas sitting tight in one corner, away from the dark shadow in the othercorner that was her newly discovered father who had cared for her somuch that he had sought to erase from her mind all knowledge of hisexistence. She wanted to say something--do something; she was torn witha poignant hunger. But she was so filled with pulsing desires and fearsthat she was impotent to express any of the million things within her. 

And so they rode on, dark shadows, almost half the width of the deeplycushioned seat between them. Thus they had ridden along Jackson Avenue, almost into Flushing, when the silence was broken by the first wordsof the journey. They were husky words, yearning and afraid of their ownsound, and were spoken by Maggie's father. 

"I--I don't know what to call you. Will--will Maggie do?"

"Yes, " she whispered. 

"I'm--I'm not much, " the husky voice ventured on; "but what you saidabout going away--for my sake--do you think you need to do it?"

"I've made--such a mess of myself, " she choked out. 

"Other people were to blame, " he said. "And out of it all, I thinkyou're going to be what--what I dreamed you were. And--and--"

There was another stifling silence. "Yes?" she prompted. 

"I wanted to keep out of your life--for your sake, " he went on in hisstrained, suppressed voice. "But--but if you're not ashamed of menow that you know all"--in the darkness his groping hand closed uponhers--"I wish you wouldn't--go away from me, Maggie. "

And then the surging, incoherent thing in her that bad been strugglingto say itself this last half-hour, suddenly found its voice in a singleword:

"Father!" she cried, and flung her arms around his neck. 

"Maggie!" he sobbed, crushing her to him. 

All the way to Cedar Crest they said not another word; just clung toeach other in the darkness, sobbing--the first miraculous embrace ofa father and daughter who had each found that which they had neverexpected to have. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

It was ten the next morning at Cedar Crest, and Larry Brainard sat inhis study mechanically going over his figures and plans for the Sherwoodhousing project. 

For Larry the storms of the past few weeks, and the whirlwind of lastnight, had cleared away. There was quiet in the house, and throughthe open windows he could glimpse the broad lawn almost singing inits sun-gladdened greenness, and farther on he could glimpse theSound gleaming placidly. Once for perhaps ten minutes he had seen theoveralled and straw-hatted figure of Joe Ellison busy as usual among theflowers. He had strained his eyes for a glimpse of Maggie, but he hadlooked in vain. 

Despite all that had come to pass at the Grantham the previous evening, Larry was just now feeling restless and rather forlorn. His breakfasthad been brought to him in his room, and he had not seen a single memberof last night's party at the Grantham since they had all divided upaccording to Miss Sherwood's orders and driven away; that is he hadreally seen no one except Dick. 

Dick had gripped his hand when he had slipped in beside Dick in the lowseat of the roadster. "You're all right, Captain Nemo!--only I'm goingto be so brash as to call you Larry after this, " Dick had said. "Ifyou'll let me, you and I are going to be buddies. "

He was all right, Dick was. Dick Sherwood was a thoroughbred. 

And there was another matter which had pleased him. The Duchess hadcalled him up that morning, had congratulated him in terms so briefthat they sounded perfunctory, but which Larry realized had all hisgrandmother's heart in them, and had said she wanted him to take overthe care of all her houses--those she had put up as bail for him. When could he come in to see her about this?... He understood thisdusty-seeming, stooped, inarticulate grandmother of his as he had notbefore. Considering what her life had been, she also was a brick. 

But notwithstanding all this, Larry was lonely--hungrily lonely--andwas very much in doubt. Miss Sherwood had spoken to him fair enough thenight before--yet he really did not know just how he stood with her. Andthen--Maggie. That was what meant most to him just now. True, Maggie hademerged safe through perils without and within; and to get her throughto some such safety as now was hers had been his chief concern thesemany months. He wanted to see her, to speak to her. But he did not knowwhat her attitude toward him would now be. He did not know how to goabout finding her. He was not even certain where she had spent thenight. He wanted to see her, yet was apulse with fear of seeing her. Shewould not be hostile, he knew that much; but she might not love him;and at the best a meeting would be awkward, with so wide a gap in theirlives to be bridged.... 

He was brooding thus when there was a loud knocking at his door. Withoutwaiting for his invitation to enter, the door was flung open, and Huntstrode in leaving the door wide behind him. His face was just one great, excited grin. He gave Larry a thump upon the back, which almost knockedLarry over, and then pulled him back to equilibrium by seizing a hand inboth of his, and then almost shook it off. 

"Larry, my son, " exploded the big painter, "I've just done it! And I didit just as you ordered me to! Forgot that Miss Sherwood and I had hada falling out, and as per your orders I walked straight up to her andasked her. And Larry, you son-of-a-gun, you were right! She said 'yes'!"

"You're lucky, old man!" exclaimed Larry, warmly returning the painter'sgrip. 

"And, Larry, that's not all. You told me I had the clearness of visionof a cold boiled lobster--said I was the greatest fool that ever hadbrains enough not to paint with the wrong end of an umbrella. Paid mesome little compliment like that. "

"Something like that, " Larry agreed. 

"Well, Larry, old son, you were right again! I've been a worse foolthan all you said. Been blinder than one of those varnished skulls sometough-stomached people use for paper-weights. After she'd said 'yes'she gave me the inside story of why we had fallen out. And guess why itwas?"

"You don't want me to guess. You want to tell me. So go to it. "

"Larry, we men will never know how clever women really are!" Huntshook his head with impressive emphasis. "Nor how they understand ournatures--the clever women--nor how well they know how to handle us. Sheconfessed that our quarrel was, on her part, carefully planned fromthe beginning with a definite result in view. She told me she'd alwaysbelieved me a great painter, if I'd only break loose from the prettythings people wanted and paid me so much for. The trouble, as she sawit, was to get me to cut loose from so much easy money and devote myselfentirely to real stuff. The only way she could see was for her to tellme I couldn't paint anything worth while, and tell it so straight-outas to make me believe that she believed it--and thus make me so mad thatI'd chuck everything and go off to prove to her that I damned well couldpaint! I certainly got sore--I ducked out of sight, swearing I'd showher--and, oh, well, you know the rest! Tell me now, can you think ofanything cleverer than the way she handled me?"

"It's just about what I would expect of Miss Sherwood, " Larry commented. 

"Excuse me, " said a voice behind them. "I found the door open; may Icome in?"

Both men turned quickly. Entering was Miss Sherwood. 

"Isabel!" exclaimed the happy painter. "I was just telling Larryhere--you know!"

Miss Sherwood's tone tried to be severe, and she tried not to smile--andshe succeeded in being just herself. 

"I came to talk business with Mr. Brainard. And I'm going to stay totalk business with Mr. Brainard. But I'll give him five seconds forcongratulations--provided at the end of the five seconds Mr. Hunt getsout of the room. "

Larry congratulated the two; congratulated them as warmly as he felthis as yet dubious position in this company warranted. At the end of thefive seconds Hunt was closing the door upon his back. 

"I've always loved him--and I want to thank you, Mr. Brainard, " she saidwith her simple directness. And before Larry could make response of anykind, she shifted the subject. 

"I really came in to see you on business, Mr. Brainard. I hope I mademy attitude toward you clear enough last night. If I did not, let mesay now that I think you have made good in every particular--and that Itrust you in every particular. What I wished especially to say now, " shewent on briskly, giving Larry no chance to stammer out his appreciation, "is that I wish to go ahead without any delay with your proposition fordeveloping the Sherwood properties in New York City which we discussedsome time ago. A former objection you raised is now removed: you arecleared, and are free to work in the open. I want you to take chargeof affairs, with Dick working beside you. I think it will be Dick's bigchance. I've talked it over with him this morning, and he's eager forthe arrangement. I hope you are not going to refuse the offer thistime. "

"I can't--not such an offer as that, " Larry said huskily. "But, MissSherwood, I didn't expect--"

"Then it's settled, " she interrupted with her brisk tone. "There'll be alot of details, but we'll have plenty of time to talk them over later. "She stood up. "There are some changes here at Cedar Crest which I wantbegun at once and which I want you to supervise. If you don't mind we'lllook things over now. "

He followed beside her along the curving, graveled walks. She headedtoward the cliff, but he had no idea where she was leading until a sharpturn brought them almost upon the low cottage which these last few weekshad been Joe Ellison's home. 

"Here is where we start our changes, " said the business-like MissSherwood. "The door's open, so we might as well go right in. "

They stepped into a tiny entry, and from thence into a littlesitting-room. The room was filled with cut flowers, but Larry did noteven see them. For as they entered, Maggie sprang up, startled, from achair, and, whiter than she had been before in all her life, gazed athim as if she wanted to run away. She stood trembling and slender in alinen frock of most simple and graceful lines. It was Miss Sherwood'sfrock, though Larry did not know this; already it had been decided thatall those showy Grantham gowns were never to be worn again. 

Once more Miss Sherwood came to the rescue of a stupendous situation, just as her tact had rescued a situation too great for words the nightbefore. 

"Of course you two people now perceive that I'm a fraud--that I've gotyou together by base trickery. So much being admitted, let's proceed. "She turned on Larry. "Maggie--we've agreed that I am to call herthat--Maggie stayed with me last night. There are two beds in my room. But we didn't sleep much. Mostly we talked. If there's anything Maggiedidn't tell me about herself, I can't guess what there's left to tell. According to herself, she's terrible. But that's for us to judge;personally I don't believe her. She confessed that she really loved you, but that after the way she'd treated you, of course she wasn't fit foryou. Which, of course, is just a girl's nonsense. I suppose you, Mr. Brainard, are thinking something of the sort regarding your own self. Itis equally nonsense. You both love each other--you've both been througha lot--nothing of importance now stands between you--so don't waste anyof your too short lives in coming together. "

She took a deep breath and went on. "You might as well know, Mr. Brainard, that Maggie is going to live with me for the present--that, ofcourse, she is going to be a very great burden to me--and it will be agreat favor to me if you'll marry her soon and take her off my hands. "And then the voice that had tried to keep itself brisk and even, quavered with a sudden sob. "For Heaven's sake, dear children--don't befools!"

And with that she was gone. 

For an instant Larry continued to gaze at Maggie's slender, tremblingfigure. But something approaching a miracle--a very human miracle--hadjust happened. All those doubts, fears, indecisions, unexpresseddesires, agonies of self-abasement, which might have delayed theirunderstanding and happiness for weeks and months, had been swept intonothingness by the incisive kindliness of Miss Sherwood. In one minuteshe had said all they might have said in months; there was nothing moreto say. There was nothing left of the past to discuss. Before them wasonly the fact of that immediate moment, and the future. 

Tremblingly, silently, Larry crossed to that trembling, silent figurein white. She did not retreat. Tremblingly he took her hands and lookeddown into her dark eyes. They were now flowing tears, but they met hissquarely, holding back nothing. The look in her eyes answered all hedesired to know just then, for he gathered her tight into his arms. Wordlessly, but with a sharp, convulsive sob, she threw her arms abouthis neck--and thus embracing, shaken with sharp sobs, they stood whilethe minutes passed, not a single word having been spoken. And so it wasthat these two, both children of the storm, at last came together.... 

Presently Joe Ellison chanced to step unsuspectingly into the room. Seeing what he did, he silently tiptoed out. There was a garden chairjust outside his door. Into this he sank and let his thin face fall intohis hands. His figure shook and hot tears burned through his fingers. For his heart told him that his great dream was at last come true.