THE MILLION-DOLLAR SUITCASE

 BY

 ALICE MacGOWAN AND PERRY NEWBERRY

 NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS

 _Copyright, 1922, by_ FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

 _Copyright, 1921, by_ THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY _under the title "Two and Two"_

 _Printed in the United States of America_

 CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I WORTH GILBERT 1

 II SIGHT UNSEEN 16

 III A WEDDING PARTY 27

 IV AN APPARITION 45

 V AT THE ST. DUNSTAN 57

 VI ON THE ROOF 65

 VII THE GOLD NUGGET 75

 VIII A TIN-HORN GAMBLER 87

 IX SANTA YSOBEL 101

 X A SHADOW IN THE FOG 110

 XI THE MISSING DIARY 124

 XII A MURDER 137

 XIII DR. BOWMAN 147

 XIV SEVEN LOST DAYS 155

 XV AT DYKEMAN'S OFFICE 164

 XVI A LUNCHEON 171

 XVII CLEANSING FIRES 181

 XVIII THE TORN PAGE 188

 XIX ON THE HILL-TOP 196

 XX AT THE COUNTRY CLUB 209

 XXI A MATTER OF TASTE 214

 XXII A DINNER INVITATION 225

 XXIII A BIT OF SILK 231

 XXIV THE MAGNET 240

 XXV AN ARREST 250

 XXVI MRS. BOWMAN SPEAKS 261

 XXVII THE BLOSSOM FESTIVAL 273

 XXVIII THE COUNTRY CLUB BALL 293

 XXIX UNMASKED 303

 XXX A CONFESSION 311

 XXXI THE MILLION-DOLLAR SUITCASE 320

THE MILLION-DOLLAR SUITCASE

CHAPTER I

WORTH GILBERT

On the blank silence that followed my last words, there in the big, dignified room with its Circassian walnut and sound-softening rugs, Dykeman, the oldest director, squalled out as though he had been bitten, "All there is to tell! But it can't be! It isn't possib--" His voicecracked, split on the word, and the rest came in an agonized squeak, "Aman can't just vanish into thin air!"

"A man!" Knapp, the cashier, echoed. "A suitcase full of money--ourmoney--can't vanish into thin air in the course of a few hours. "

Feverishly they passed the timeworn phrase back and forth; it would havebeen ludicrous if it hadn't been so deadly serious. Well, money when youcome to think of it, is its very existence to such an institution; itwas not to be wondered at that the twelve men around the long table inthe directors' room of the Van Ness Avenue Savings Bank found this alife or death matter. 

"How much--?" began heavy-set, heavy-voiced old Anson, down at the lowerend, but stuck and got no further. There was a smitten look on everyface at the contemplation--a suitcase could hold so unguessably great asum expressed in terms of cash and securities. 

"We'll have the exact amount in a few moments--I've just set them toverifying, " President Whipple indicated with a slight backward nod thesecond and smaller table in the room, where two clerks delved mole-likeamong piles of securities, among greenbacks and yellowbacks bound roundwith paper collars, and stacks of coin. 

The blinds were down, only the table lamps on, and a gooseneck overwhere the men counted. It put the place all in shadow, and threw outinto bolder relief the faces around that board, gray-white, denatured, all with the financier's curiously unhuman look. The one fairly cheerfulcountenance in sight was that of A. G. Cummings, the bank's attorney. 

For myself, I was only waiting to hear what results those clerks wouldbring us. So far, Whipple had been quite noncommittal: the extraordinarystate of the market--everything so upset that a bank couldn't affordeven the suspicion of a loss or irregularity--hinting at something inhis mind not evident to the rest of us. I was just rising to go roundand ask him quietly if, having reported, I might not be excused to geton the actual work, when the door opened. 

I can't say why the young fellow who stood in it should have seemed soforeign to the business in hand; perhaps the carriage of his tallfigure, the military abruptness of his movements, the way he swung thedoor far back against the wall and halted there, looking us over. But Ido know that no sooner had Worth Gilbert, lately home from France, crossed the threshold, meeting Whipple's outstretched hand, noddingcarelessly to the others, than suddenly every man in the room seemedolder, less a man. We were dead ones; he the only live wire in theplace. 

"Boyne, " the president turned quickly to me, "would you mind going overfor Captain Gilbert's benefit what you've just said?"

The newcomer had, so far, not made any movement to join the circle atthe table. He stood there, chin up, looking straight at us all, butquite through us. At the back of the gaze was a something between wearyand fierce that I have noticed in the eyes of so many of our boys homefrom what they'd witnessed and gone through over there, when forced tobring their attention to the stale, bloodless affairs of civil life. Used to the instant, conclusive fortunes of war, they can hardly handlethemselves when matters hitch and halt upon customs and legalities; theonly thing that appeals to them is the big chance, win or lose, and haveit over. Such a man doesn't speak the language of the group that wasthere gathered. Just looking at him, old Dykeman rasped, without furtherprovocation, "What's Captain Gilbert got to do with the private concerns of thisbank?"

As though the words--and their tone--had been a cordial invitation, rather than an offensive challenge, the young man, who had still shownno sign of an intention to come into the meeting at all, walked to thetable, drew out a chair and sat down. 

"Pardon me, Mr. Dykeman, " Cummings' voice had a wire edge on it, "theHanford block of stock in this bank has, as I think you very well know, passed fully into Gilbert hands to-day. "

"Thomas A. Gilbert, " Dykeman was sparing of words. 

"Captain Worth Gilbert's father, " Whipple attempted pacification. "Mr. Gilbert senior was with me till nearly noon, closing up the transfer. Hehad hardly left when we discovered the shortage. After consultation, Knapp and I got hold of Cummings. We wanted to get you gentlemenhere--have the capital of the bank represented, as nearly as wecould--and found that Mr. Gilbert had taken the twelve-forty-five trainfor Santa Ysobel; so, as Captain Gilbert was to be found, we felt thatif we got him it would be practically--er--quite the same thing--"

Worth Gilbert had sat in the chair he selected, absolutely indifferent. It was only when Dykeman, hanging to his point, spoke again, that I sawa quick gleam of blue fire come into those hawk eyes under the slantbrow. He gave a sort of detached attention as Dykeman sputteredindecently. 

"Not the same thing at all! Sons can't always speak for fathers, anymore than fathers can always speak for sons. In this case--"

He broke off with his ugly old mouth open. Worth Gilbert, the son ofdivorced parents, with a childhood that had divided time between amother in the East and a California father, surveyed the parchment-likecountenance leisurely after the crackling old voice was hushed. Finallyhe grunted inarticulately (I'm sorry I can't find a more imposing wordfor a returned hero); and answered all objections with, "I'm here now--and here I stay. What's the excitement?"

"I was just asking Mr. Boyne to tell you, " Whipple came in smoothly. 

No one else offered any objections. What I repeated, briefly, amountedto this:

Directly after closing time to-day--which was noon, as this wasSaturday--Knapp, the cashier of the bank, had discovered a heavyshortage, and it was decided on a quick investigation that EdwardClayte, one of the paying tellers, had walked out with the money in asuitcase. I was immediately called in on what appeared a wide-opentrail, with me so close behind Clayte that you'd have said there wasnothing to it. I followed him--and the suitcase--to his apartment at theSt. Dunstan, found he'd got there at twenty-five minutes to one, and Ibarely three quarters of an hour after. 

"How do you get the exact minute Clayte arrived?" Anson stopped me atthis point, "and the positive knowledge that he had the suitcase withhim?"

"Clayte asked the time--from the clerk at the desk--as he came in. Heput the suitcase down while he set his watch. The clerk saw him pick itup and go into the elevator; Mrs. Griggsby, a woman at work mendingcarpet on the seventh floor--which is his--saw him come out of theelevator carrying it, and let himself into his room. There the trailends. "

"Ends?" As my voice halted young Gilbert's word came like a bullet. "Thetrail can't end unless the man was there. "

"Or the suitcase, " little old Sillsbee quavered, and Worth Gilbert gavehim a swift, half-humorous glance. 

"Bath and bedroom, " I said, "that suite has three windows, sevenstories above the ground. I found them all locked--not mere latches--theSt. Dunstan has burglar-proof locks. No disturbance in the room; allneat, in place, the door closed with the usual spring lock; and I had toget Mrs. Griggsby to move, since she was tacking the carpet right at thethreshold. Everything was in that room that should have beenthere--except Clayte and the suitcase. "

The babel of complaint and suggestion broke out as I finished, exactlyas it had done when I got to this point before: "The Griggsby womanought to be kept under surveillance"; "The clerk, the house servantsought to be watched, "--and so on, and so on. I curtly reiterated myassurance that such routine matters had been promptly and thoroughlyattended to. My nerves were getting raw. I'm not so young as I was. Thispromised to be one of those grinding cases where the detective agency isrun through the rollers so many times that it comes out pretty slim inthe end, whether that end is failure or success. 

The only thing in sight that it didn't make me sick to look at was thatsilent young fellow sitting there, never opening his trap, giving thingsa chance to develop, not rushing in on them with the forceps. It was acrazy thing for Whipple to call this meeting--have all these old, scaredmen on my back before I could take the measure of what I was up against. What, exactly, had the Van Ness Avenue Bank lost? That, and not anythingelse, was the key for my first moves. And at last a clerk crossed to ourtable, touched Whipple's arm and presented a sheet of paper. 

"I'll read the total, gentlemen. " The president stared at the sheet heheld, moistened his lips, gulped, gasped, "I--I'd no idea it was somuch!" and finished in a changed voice, "nine hundred and eighty seventhousand, two hundred and thirty four dollars. "

A deathlike hush. Dykeman's mere look was a call for the ambulance;Anson slumped in his chair; little old Sillsbee sat twisted away so thathis face was in shadow, but the knuckles showed bone white where hishand gripped the table top. None of them seemed able to speak; the youngvoice that broke startlingly on the stillness had the effect of scaringthe others, with its tone of nonchalance, rather than reassuring them. Worth Gilbert leaned forward and looked round in my direction with, "This is beginning to be interesting. What do the police say of it?"

"We've not thought well to notify them yet. " Whipple's eye consultedthat of his cashier and he broke off. Quietly the clerks got out withthe last load of securities; Knapp closed the door carefully behindthem, and as he returned to us, Whipple repeated, "I had no idea it wasso big, " his tone almost pleading as he looked from one to the other. "But I felt from the first that we'd better keep this thing toourselves. We don't want a run on the bank, and under present financialconditions, almost anything might start one. But--almost a milliondollars!"

He seemed unable to go on; none of the other men at the table hadanything to offer. It was the silent youngster, the outsider, who spokeagain. 

"I suppose Clayte was bonded--for what that's worth?"

"Fifteen thousand dollars, " Knapp, the cashier, gave the informationdully. The sum sounded pitiful beside that which, we were tounderstand, had traveled out of the bank as currency and unregisteredsecurities in Clayte's suitcase. 

"Bonding company will hound him, won't they?" young Gilbert put itbluntly. "Will the Clearing House help you out?" in the tone of onediscussing a lost umbrella. 

"Not much chance--now. " Whipple's face was sickly. "You know as well asI do that we are going to get little help from outside. I want you toall stand by me now--keep this quiet--among ourselves--"

"Among ourselves!" rapped out Kirkpatrick. "Then it leaks--we have arun--and where are you?"

"No, no. Just long enough to give Boyne here a chance to recover ourmoney without publicity--try it out, anyhow. "

"Well, " said Anson sullenly, "that's what he's paid for. How long is itgoing to take him?"

I made no attempt to answer that fool question; Cummings spoke for me, lawyer fashion, straddling the question, bringing up the arguments proand con. 

"Your detective asks for publicity to assist his search. You refuse it. Then you've got to be indulgent with him in the matter of time. Understand me, you may be right; I'm not questioning the wisdom ofsecrecy, though as a lawyer I generally think the sooner you get to thepolice with a crime the better. You all can see how publicity and asizable reward offered would give Mr. Boyne a hundred thousandassistants--conscious and unconscious--to help nab Clayte. "

"And we'd be a busted bank before you found him, " groaned Knapp. "We'vegot to keep this thing to ourselves. I agree with Whipple. "

"It's all we can do, " the president repeated. 

"Suppose a State bank examiner walks in on you Monday?" demanded theattorney. 

"We take that chance--that serious chance, " replied Whipple solemnly. 

Silence after that again till Cummings spoke. 

"Gentlemen, there are here present twelve of the principal stockholdersof the bank. " He paused a moment to estimate. "The capital ispractically represented. Speaking as your legal advisor, I am obliged tosay that you should not let the bank take such a risk as Mr. Whipplesuggests. You are threatened with a staggering loss, but, after all, ahigh percent of money lost by defalcations is recovered--madegood--wholly or in part. "

"Nearly a million dollars!" croaked old Sillsbee. 

"Yes, yes, of course, " Cummings agreed hastily; "the larger amount'sagainst you. The men who can engineer such a theft are almost as strongas you are. You've got to make every edge cut--use every weapon that'sat hand. And most of all, gentlemen, you've got to stand together. Nodissensions. As a temporary expedient--to keep the bank sufficientlyunder cover and still allow Boyne the publicity he needs--replace thismoney pro rata among yourselves. That wouldn't clean any of you. Announce a small defalcation, such as Clayte's bond would cover, so youcould collect there; use all the machinery of the police. Then whenClayte's found, the money recovered, you reimburse yourselves. "

"But if he's never found! If it's never recovered?" Knapp asked huskily;he was least able of any man in the room to stand the loss. 

"What do you say, Gilbert?" The attorney looked toward the young man, who, all through the discussion, had been staring straight ahead of him. He came round to the lawyer's question like one roused from otherthoughts, and agreed shortly. 

"Not a bad bet. "

"Well--Boyne--" Whipple was giving way an inch at a time. 

"It's a peculiar case, " I began, then caught myself up with, "All casesare peculiar. The big point here is to get our man before he can get ridof the money. We were close after Clayte; even that locked room in theSt. Dunstan needn't have stopped us. If he wasn't in it, he wassomewhere not far outside it. He'd had no time to make a real getaway. All I needed to lay hands on him was a good description. "

"Description?" echoed Whipple. "Your agency's got descriptions onfile--thumb prints--photographs--of every employee of this bank. "

"Every one of 'em but Clayte, " I said. "When I came to look up thefiles, there wasn't a thing on him. Don't think I ever laid eyes on theman myself. "

A description of Edward Clayte? Every man at the table--even oldSillsbee--sat up and opened his mouth to give one; but Knapp beat themto it, with, "Clayte's worked in this bank eight years. We all know him. You can getjust as many good descriptions as there are people on our payroll ordirectors in this room--and plenty more at the St. Dunstan, I'll bebound. "

"You think so?" I said wearily. "I have not been idle, gentlemen; I haveinterviewed his associates. Listen to this; it is a composite of thebest I've been able to get. " I read: "Edward Clayte; height about fivefeet seven or eight; weight between one hundred and forty and onehundred and fifty pounds; age somewhere around forty; smooth face;medium complexion, fairish; brown hair; light eyes; apparentlycommonplace features; dressed neatly in blue business suit, black shoes, black derby hat--"

"Wait a minute, " interposed Knapp. "Is that what they gave you at theSt. Dunstan--what he was wearing when he came in?"

I nodded. 

"Well, I'd have said he had on tan shoes and a fedora. He _did_--or wasthat yesterday? But aside from that, it's a perfect description; bringsthe man right up before me. "

I heard a chuckle from Worth Gilbert. 

"That description, " I said, "is gibberish; mere words. Would it bringClayte up before any one who had never seen him? Ask Captain Gilbert, who doesn't know the man. I say that's a list of the points at which heresembles every third office man you meet on the street. What I want isthe points at which he'd differ. You have all known Clayte for years;forget his regularities, and tell me his peculiarities--looks, manners, dress or habits. "

There was a long pause, broken finally by Whipple. 

"He never smoked, " said the bank president. 

"Occasionally he did, " contradicted Knapp, and the pause continued tillI asked, "Any peculiarities of clothing?"

"Oh, yes, " said Whipple. "Very neat. Usually blue serge. "

"But sometimes gray, " added Knapp, heavily, and old Sillsbee piped in, "I've seen that feller wear pin-check; I know I have. "

I was fed up on clothes. 

"How did he brush his hair?" I questioned. 

"Smoothed down from a part high on the left, " Knapp came back promptly. 

"On the right, " boomed old Anson from the foot of the table. 

"Sometimes--yes--I guess he did, " Knapp conceded hesitantly. 

"Oh, well then, what color was it? Maybe you can agree better on that. "

"Sort of mousy color, " Knapp thought. 

"O Lord! Mousy colored!" groaned Dykeman under his breath. "Listen to'em!"

"Well, isn't it?" Knapp was a bit stung. 

"House mousy, or field mousy?" Cummings wanted to know. 

"Knapp's right enough, " Whipple said with dignity. "The man's hair is amedium brown--indeterminate brown. " He glanced around the table at theheads of hair under the electric lights. "Something the color ofMerrill's, " and a director began stroking his hair nervously. 

"No, no; darker than Merrill's, " broke in Kirkpatrick. "Isn't it, Knapp?"

"Why, I was going to say lighter, " admitted the cashier, discouragedly. 

"Never mind, " I sighed. "Forget the hair. Come on--what color are hiseyes?"

"Blue, " said Whipple. 

"Gray, " said Knapp. 

"Brown, " said Kirkpatrick. 

They all spoke in one breath. And as I despairingly laid down my pencil, the last man repeated firmly, "Brown. But--they might be light brown--or hazel, y'know. "

"But, after all, Boyne, " Whipple appealed to me, "you've got a fairlyaccurate description of the man, one that fits him all right. "

"Does it? Then he's description proof. No moles, scars or visiblemarks?" I suggested desperately. 

"None. " There was a negative shaking of heads. 

"No mannerisms? No little tricks, such as a twist of the mouth, amincing step, or a head carried on one side?"

More shakes of negation from the men who knew Clayte. 

"Well, at least you can tell me who are his friends--his intimates?"

Nobody answered. 

"He must have friends?" I urged. 

"He hasn't, " maintained Whipple. "Knapp is as close to him as any man inSan Francisco. "

The cashier squirmed, but said nothing. 

"But outside the bank. Who were his associates?"

"Don't think he had any, " from Knapp. 

"Relatives?"

"None--I know he hadn't. "

"Girls? Lord! Didn't he have a girl?"

"Not a girl. "

"No associates--no girl? For the love of Mike, what could such a manintend to do with all that money?" I gasped. "Where did he spend histime when he wasn't in the bank?"

Whipple looked at his cashier for an answer. But Knapp was sitting, headdown, in a painful brown study, and the president himself beganhaltingly. 

"Why, he was perhaps the one man in the bank that I knew least about. The truth is he was so unobjectionable in every way, personallyunobtrusive, quite unimportant and uninteresting; really--er--un-everything, such a--a--"

"Shadow, " Cummings suggested. 

"That's the word--shadow--I never thought to inquire where he went tillhe walked out of here this noon with the bank's money crammed in thatsuitcase. "

"Was the Saturday suitcase a regular thing?" I asked, and Whipple lookedbewildered. But Knapp woke up with, "Oh, yes. For years. Studious fellow. Books to be exchanged at thepublic library, I think. No--" Knapp spoke heavily. "Come to think ofit, guess that was special work. He told me once he was taking some sortof correspondence course. "

"Special work!" chuckled Worth Gilbert. "I'll tell the world!"

"Oh, well, give me a description of the suitcase, " I hurried. 

"Brown. Sole-leather. That's all I ever noticed, " from Whipple, a bitstiffly. 

"Brass rings and lock, I suppose?"

"Brass or nickel; I don't remember. What'd you say, Knapp?"

"I wouldn't know now, if it was canvas and tin, " replied the harriedcashier. 

"Gentlemen, " I said, looking across at the clock, "since half-past twomy men have been watching docks, ferries, railroad stations, everygarage near the St. Dunstan, the main highways out of town. Seven ofthem on the job, and in the first hour they made ten arrests, on thatdescription; and every time, sure they had their man. They thought, justas you seem to think, that the bunch of words described something. We'regetting nowhere, gentlemen, and time means money here. "

CHAPTER II

SIGHT UNSEEN

In the squabble and snatch of argument, given dignity only because itconcerned the recovery of near a million dollars, we seemed to have lostWorth Gilbert entirely. He kept his seat, that chair he had takeninstantly when old Dykeman seemed to wish to have it denied him; but hesat on it as though it were a lone rock by the sea. I didn't suppose hewas hearing what we said any more than he would have heard the mewing ofa lot of gulls, when, on a sudden silence, he burst out, "For heaven's sake, if you men can't decide on anything, sell me thesuitcase! I'll buy it, as it is, and clean up the job. "

"Sell you--the suitcase--Clayte's suitcase?" They sat up on the edge oftheir chairs; bewildered, incredulous, hostile. Such a bunch is verylike a herd of cattle; anything they don't understand scares them. Eventhe attorney studied young Gilbert with curious interest. I was mortalglad I hadn't said what was the fact, that with the naming of theenormous sum lost I was certain this was a sizable conspiracy withlong-laid plans. They were mistrustful enough as Whipple finallyquestioned, "Is this a bona-fide offer, Captain Gilbert?" and Dykeman came in afterhim. 

"A gambler's chance at stolen money--is that what you figure on buying, sir? Is that it?" And heavy-faced Anson asked bluntly, "Who's to set the price on it? You or us? There's practically a milliondollars in that suitcase. It belongs to the bank. If you've got an ideathat you can buy up the chance of it for about fifty percent--you'remistaken. We have too much faith in Mr. Boyne and his agency for that. Why, at this moment, one of his men may have laid hands on Clayte, orfound the man who planned--"

He stopped with his mouth open. I saw the same suspicion that had takenhis breath away grip momentarily every man at the table. A hint of itwas in Whipple's voice as he asked, gravely:

"Do you bind yourself to pursue Clayte and bring him, if possible, tojustice?"

"Bind myself to nothing. I'll give eight hundred thousand dollars forthat suitcase. "

He fumbled in his pocket with an interrogative look at Whipple, and, "May I smoke in here?" and lit a cigarette without waiting a reply. 

Banking institutions take some pains to keep in their employ no youngmen who are known to play poker; but a poker face at that board wouldhave acquired more than its share of dignity. As it was, you could see, almost as though written there, the agonizing doubt running riot intheir faces as to whether Worth Gilbert was a young hero coming to thebank's rescue, or a con man playing them for suckers. It was Knapp whosaid at last, huskily, "I think we should close with Captain Gilbert's offer. " The cashier hada considerable family, and I knew his recently bought Pacific Avenuehome was not all paid for. 

"We might consider it, " Whipple glanced doubtfully at his associates. "If everything else fails, this might be a way out of the difficulty forus. "

If everything else failed! President Whipple was certainly no pokerplayer. Worth Gilbert gave one swift look about the ring of faces, pushed a brown, muscular left hand out on the table top, glancing at thewrist watch there, and suggested brusquely, "Think it over. My offer holds for fifteen minutes. Time to get at allthe angles of the case. Huh! Gentlemen! I seem to have startedsomething!"

For the directors and stockholders of the Van Ness Avenue Savings Bankwere at that moment almost as yappy and snappy as a wolf pack. Dykemanwanted to know about the one hundred and eighty seven thousand odddollars not covered by Worth's offer--did they lose that? Knapp wasurging that Clayte's bond, when they'd collected, would shade the loss;Whipple reminding them that they'd have to spend a good deal--maybe agreat deal--on the recovery of the suitcase; money that Worth Gilbertwould have to spend instead if they sold to him; and finally an uglymutter from somewhere that maybe young Gilbert wouldn't have to spend sovery much to recover that suitcase--maybe he wouldn't!

The tall young fellow looked thoughtfully at his watch now and again. Cummings and I chipped into the thickest of the row and convinced themthat he meant what he said, not only by his offer, but by its timelimit. 

"How about publicity, if this goes?" Whipple suddenly interrogated, raising his voice to top the pack-yell. "Even with eight hundredthousand dollars in our vaults, a run's not a thing that does a bank anygood. I suppose, " stretching up his head to see across his noisyassociates, "I suppose, Captain Gilbert, you'll be retaining Boyne'sagency? In that case, do you give him the publicity he wants?"

"Course he does!" Dykeman hissed. "Can't you see? Damn fool wants hisname in the papers! Rotten story like this--about some lunatic buying asuitcase with a million in it--would ruin any bank if it got intoprint. " Dykeman's breath gave out. "And--it's--it's--just the kind ofstory the accursed yellow press would eat up. Let it alone, Whipple. Lethis damned offer alone. There's a joker in it somewhere. "

"There won't be any offer in about three minutes, " Cummings quietlyreminded them. "If you'd asked my opinion--and giving you opinions iswhat you pay me a salary for--I'd have said close with him while youcan. "

Whipple gave me an agonized glance. I nodded affirmatively. He put thequestion to vote in a breath; the ayes had it, old Dykeman shoutingafter them in an angry squeak. 

"No! No!" and adding as he glared about him, "I'd like to be able tolook a newspaper in the face; but never again! Never again!"

I made my way over to Gilbert and stood in front of him. 

"You've bought something, boy, " I said. "If you mean to keep me on asyour detective, you can assure these people that I'll do my darndest togive information to the police and keep it out of the papers. What'shappened here won't get any further than this room--through me. "

"You're hired, Jerry Boyne. " Gilbert slapped me on the backaffectionately. After all, he hadn't changed so much in his four yearsover there; I began to see more than traces of the enthusiasticyoungster to whom I used to spin detective yarns in the grill at the St. Francis or on the rocks by the Cliff House. "Sure, we'll keep it out ofthe papers. Suits me. I'd rather not pose as the fool soon parted fromhis money. "

The remark was apropos; Knapp had feverishly beckoned the lawyer over toa little side desk; they were down at it, the light snapped on, writing, trying to frame up an agreement that would hold water. One by one theothers went and looked on nervously as they worked; by the time they'dfinished something, everybody'd seen it but Worth; and when it wasfinally put in his hands, all he seemed to notice was the one point ofthe time they'd set for payment. 

"It'll be quite some stunt to get the amount together by ten o'clockMonday, " he said slowly. "There are securities to be converted--"

He paused, and looked up on a queer hush. 

"Securities?" croaked Dykeman. "To be converted--? Oh!"

"Yes, " in some surprise. "Or would the bank prefer to have them turnedover in their present form?"

Again a strained moment, broken by Whipple's nervous, "Maybe that would be better, " and a quickly suppressed chuckle fromCummings. 

The agreement was in duplicate. It gave Worth Gilbert complete ownershipof a described sole-leather suitcase and its listed contents, and, as hehad demanded, it bound him to nothing save the payment. Cummings saidfrankly that the transaction was illegal from end to end, and that anyassurance as to the bank's ceasing to pursue Clayte would amount tocompounding a felony. Yet we all signed solemnly, the lawyer and I aswitnesses. A financier's idea of indecency is something about moneywhich hasn't formerly been done. The directors got sorer and sorer asWorth Gilbert's cheerfulness increased. 

"Acts as though it were a damn' crap game, " I heard Dykeman muttering toSillsbee, who came back vacuously. 

"Craps?--they say our boys did shoot craps a good deal over there. Well--uh--they were risking their lives. "

And that's as near as any of them came, I suppose, to understanding howa weariness of the little interweaving plans of tamed men had pushedWorth Gilbert into carelessly staking his birthright on a chance thatmight lend interest to life, a hazard big enough to breeze the stalenessout of things for him. 

We were leaving the bank, Gilbert and I ahead, Cummings right at myboy's shoulder, the others holding back to speak together, (bitterlyenough, if I am any guesser) when Worth said suddenly, "You mentioned in there it's being illegal for the bank to give up thepursuit of Clayte. Seems funny to me, but I suppose you know whatyou're talking about. Anyhow"--he was lighting another cigarette and heglanced sharply at Cummings across it--"anyhow, they won't waste theirmoney hunting Clayte now, should you say? That's my job. That's where Iget my cash back. "

"Oh, that's where, is it?" The lawyer's dry tone might have beenregarded as humorous. We stood in the deep doorway, hunching coatcollars, looking into the foggy street. Worth's interest in life seemedto be freshening moment by moment. 

"Yes, " he agreed briskly. "I'm going to keep you and Boyne busy for awhile. You'll have to show me how to hustle the payment for thoseShylocks, and Jerry's got to find the suitcase, so I can eat. But I'llhelp him. "

Cummings stared at the boy. 

"Gilbert, " he said, "where are you going?--right now, I mean. "

"To Boyne's office. "

We stepped out to the street where the line of limousines waited for theold fellows inside, my own battleship-gray roadster, pretty wellhammered but still a mighty capable machine, far down at the end. AsWorth moved with me toward it, the lawyer walked at his elbow. 

"Seat for me?" he glanced at the car. "I've a few words of one syllableto say to this young man--council that I ought to get in as early aspossible. "

I looked at little Pete dozing behind the wheel, and answered, "Take you all right, if I could drive. But I sprained my thumb on awindow lock looking over that room at the St. Dunstan. "

"I'll drive. " Worth had circled the car with surprising quickness for solarge a man. I saw him on the other side, waiting for Pete to get out sohe could get in. Curious the intimate, understanding look he gave themonkey as he flipped a coin at him with, "Buy something to burn, kid. "Pete's idea of Worth Gilbert would be quite different from that of thedirectors in there. After all, human beings are only what we see themfrom our varying angles. Pete slid down, looking back to the last at thetall young fellow who was taking his place at the wheel. Cummings and Igot in and we were off. 

There in the machine, my new boss driving, Cummings sitting next him, Iat the further side, began the keen, cool probe after a truth which tome lay very evidently on the surface. Any one, I would have said, mightsee with half an eye that Worth Gilbert had bought Clayte's suitcase sothat he could get a thrill out of hunting for it. Cummings I knew had incharge all the boy's Pacific Coast holdings; and since his mother'sdeath during the first year of the war, these were large. Worthmanifested toward them and the man who spoke to him of them theindifference, almost contempt, of an impatient young soul who in theyears just behind him, had often wagered his chance of his morning'scoffee against some other fellow's month's pay feeling that he wasputting up double. 

It seemed the sense of ownership was dulled in one who had seenmagnificent properties masterless, or apparently belonging to some limp, bloodstained bundle of flesh that lay in one of the rooms. In vainCummings urged the state of the market, repeating with moreparticularity and force what Whipple had said. The mines were tied up bystrike; their stock, while perfectly good, was down to twenty cents onthe dollar; to sell now would be madness. Worth only repeated doggedly. 

"I've got to have the money--Monday morning--ten o'clock. I don't carewhat you sell--or hock. Get it. "

"See here, " the lawyer was puzzled, and therefore unprofessionally outof temper. "Even sacrificing your stuff in the most outrageous manner, Icouldn't realize enough--not by ten o'clock Monday. You'll have to go toyour father. You can catch the five-five for Santa Ysobel. "

I could see Worth choke back a hot-tempered refusal of the suggestion. The funds he'd got to have, even if he went through some humiliation toget them. 

"At that, " he said slowly, "father wouldn't have any great amount ofcash on hand. Say I went to him with the story--and took the cat-haulinghe'll give me--should I be much better off?"

"Sure you would. " Cummings leaned back. I saw he considered his pointmade. "Whipple would rather take their own bank stock than anythingelse. Your father has just acquired a big block of it. Act while there'stime. Better go out there and see him now--at once. "

"I'll think about it, " Worth nodded. "You dig for me what you can andnever quit. " And he applied himself to the demands of the down-towntraffic. 

"Well, " Cummings said, "drop me at the next corner, please. I've got anengagement with a man here. "

Worth swung in and stopped. Cummings left us. As we began to worm a slowway toward my office, I suggested, "You'll come upstairs with me, and--er--sort of outline a policy? Iought to have any possible information you can give me, so's not to makeany more wrong moves than we have to. "

"Information?" he echoed, and I hastened to amend, "I mean whatever notion you've got. Your theory, you know--"

"Not a notion. Not a theory. " He shook his head, eyes on the trafficcop. "That's your part. "

I sat there somewhat flabbergasted. After all, I hadn't fully believedthat the boy had absolutely nothing to go on, that he had bought purelyat a whim, put up eight hundred thousand dollars on my skill at runningdown a criminal. It sort of crumpled me up. I said so. He laughed alittle, ran up to the curb at the Phelan building, cut out the engine, set the brake and turned to me with, "Don't worry. I'm getting what I paid for--or what I'm going to pay for. And I've got to go right after the money. Suppose I meet you, say, atten o'clock to-night?"

"Suits me. "

"At Tait's. Reserve a table, will you, and we'll have supper. "

"You're on, " I said. "And plenty to do myself meantime. " I hopped out onmy side. 

Worth sat in the roadster, not hurrying himself to follow up Cummings'suggestion--the big boy, non-communicative, incurious, the question offortune lost or won seeming not to trouble him at all. I skirted themachine and came round to him, demanding, "With whom do you suppose Cummings' engagement was?"

"Don't know, Jerry, and don't care, " looking down at me serenely. "Whyshould I?" He swung one long leg free and stopped idly, half in the car, half out. 

"What if I told you Cummings' engagement was with our friendDykeman--only Dykeman doesn't know it yet?"

Slowly he brought that dangling foot down to the pavement, followed itwith the other, and faced me. Across the blankness of his features shota joyous gleam; it spread, brightening till he was radiant. 

"I get you!" he chortled. "Collusion! They think I'm standing in withClayte--Oh, boy!"

He threw back his head and roared. 

CHAPTER III

A WEDDING PARTY

I looked at my watch; quarter of ten; a little ahead of my appointment. I ordered a telephone extension brought to this corner table I hadreserved at Tait's and got in touch with my office; then with theknowledge that any new kink in the case would be reported immediately tome, I relaxed to watch the early supper crowd arrive: Women in picturehats and bare or half-bare shoulders with rich wraps slipping off them;hum of voices; the clatter of silver and china; waiters beginning towake up and dart about settling new arrivals. And I wondered idly whatsort of party would come to sit around one long table across from mespecially decorated with pale tinted flowers. 

There was a sense of warmth and comfort at my heart. I am a lonely man;the people I take to seem to have a way of passing on in the stream oflife--or death--leaving me with a few well-thumbed volumes on a shelf inmy rooms for consolation. Walt Whitman, Montaigne, The Bard, two orthree other lesser poets, and you've the friends that have stayed by mefor thirty years. And so, having met up with Worth Gilbert when he was ayoungster, at the time his mother was living in San Francisco to get aresidence for her divorce proceedings, having loved the boy and got I amsure some measure of affection in return, it seemed almost too much toask of fate that he should come back into my days, plunge into such aproposition as this bank robbery, right at my elbow as it were, andmake himself my employer--my boss. 

I was a subordinate in the agency in those old times when he and I usedto chin about the business, and his idea (I always discussed it gravelyand respectfully with him) was to grow up and go into partnership withme. Well, we were partners now. 

Past ten, nearly five minutes. Where was he? What up to? Would he misshis appointment? No, I caught a glimpse of him at the door getting ridof hat and overcoat, pausing a moment with tall bent head to banterRose, the little Chinese girl who usually drifted from table to tablewith cigars and cigarettes. Then he was coming down the room. 

A man who takes his own path in life, and will walk it though hell barthe way, never explaining, never extenuating, never excusing hiscourse--something seems to emanate from such a chap that draws all eyesafter him in a public place in a look between fear and desire. Sittingthere in Tait's, my view of Worth cut off now by a waiter with ahigh-carried tray, again by people passing to tables for whom he halted, I had a good chance to see the turning of eyeballs that followed him, the furtive glances that snatched at him, or fondled him, or would haveprobed him; the admiration of the women, the envy of the men, curiouslyalike in that it was sometimes veiled and half wistful, sometimes veryopen. Drifters--you see so many of the sort in a restaurant--whywouldn't they hanker after the strength and ruthlessness of a man likeWorth? And the poor prunes, how little they knew him! As my friend Waltwould say, he wasn't out after any of the old, smooth prizes they caredfor. And win or lose he would still be a victor, for all he and hissort demand is freedom, and the joy of the game. So he came on to me. 

I noticed, a little startled, as he slumped into his chair with a gruntof greeting, that his cheek was somehow gaunt and pale under the tan;the blue fire of his eyes only smoldered, and I pulled back his chairwith, "You look as if you hadn't had any dinner. "

"I haven't. " He gave a man-size order for food and turned back from itto listen to me. "I'll be nearer human when I get some grub under mybelt. "

My report of what had been done on the case since we separated wasinterrupted by the arrival of our orders, and Worth sailed into a thick, juicy steak while I was still explaining details. The orchestra whangedand blared and jazzed away; the people at the other tables noticed us orbusied themselves noisily with affairs of their own; Worth sat andenjoyed his meal with the air of a man feeding at a solitary countrytavern. When he had finished--and he took his time about it--the worn, punished look was gone from his face; his eye was bright, his tonenonchalant, as he lighted a cigarette, remarking, "I've had one more good dinner. Food's a thing you can depend on; itdoesn't rake up your entire past record from the time you squirmed intothis world, and tell you what a fool you've always been. "

I turned that over in my mind. Did it mean that he'd seen his father andgot a calling down? I wanted to know--and was afraid to ask. The fact isI was beginning to wake up to a good many things about my young boss. Iwas intensely interested in his reactions on people. So far, I'd seenhim with strangers. I wished that I might have a chance to observe himamong intimates. Old Richardson who founded our agency (and would neverknowingly have left me at the head of it, though he did take me in aspartner, finally) used to say that the main trouble with me was Istudied people instead of cases. Richardson held that all men are equalbefore the detective, and must be regarded only as queer shaped piecesto be fitted together so as to make out a case. Richardson would havegone as coolly about easing the salt of the earth into the chink labeled"murder" or "embezzlement, " as though neither had been human. With methe personal equation always looms big, and of course he was quite rightin saying that it's likely to get you all gummed up. 

The telephone on the table before me rang. It was Roberts, my secretary, with the word that Foster had lifted the watch from Ocean View, thelittle town at the neck of the peninsula, where bay and ocean narrow thepassageway to one thoroughfare, over which every machine must pass thatgoes by land from San Francisco. With two operatives, he had been onguard there since three o'clock of the afternoon, holding up blond menin cars, asking questions, taking notes and numbers. Now he reported itwas a useless waste of time. 

"Order him in, " I instructed Roberts. 

A far-too-fat entertainer out on the floor was writhing in the pangs ofan Hawaiian dance. It took the attention of the crowd. I watched theface of my companion for a moment, then, "Worth, " I said a bit nervously--after all, I nearly had to know--"isyour father going to come through?"

"Eh?" He looked at me startled, then put it aside negligently. "Oh, themoney? No. I'll leave that up to Cummings. " A brief pause. "We'll get awiggle on us and dig up the suitcase. " He lifted his tumbler, stared atit, then unseeingly out across the room, and his lip twitched in a halfsmile. "I'm sure glad I bought it. "

Looking at him, I had no reason to doubt his word. His enjoyment of thesituation seemed to grow with every detail I brought up. 

It was near eleven when the party came in to take the long, flower-trimmed table. Worth's back was to the room; I saw them over hisshoulder, in the lead a tall blonde, very smartly dressed, but not inevening clothes; in severe, exclusive street wear. The man with her, good looking, almost her own type, had that possessive air which seemssomehow unmistakable--and there was a look about the half dozencompanions after them, as they settled themselves in a great flurry ofscraping chairs, that made me murmur with a grin, "Bet that's a wedding party. "

Worth gave them one quick glance, then came round to me with a smile. 

"You win. Married at Santa Ysobel this afternoon. Local society event. Whole place standing on its hind legs, taking notice. "

So he had been down to the little town to see his father after all. Andhe wasn't going to talk about it. Oh, well. 

"Friends of yours?" I asked perfunctorily, and he gave me a queer lookout of the corners of those wicked eyes, repeating in an enjoying drawl. 

"Friends? Oh, hardly that. The girl I was to have married, and BronsonVandeman--the man she has married. "

I had wanted to get a more intimate line on the kid--it seemed that herewas a chance with a vengeance!

"The rest of the bunch?" I suggested. He took a leisurely survey, andgave them three words:

"Family and accomplices. "

"Santa Ysobel people, too, then. Folks you know well?"

"Used to. "

"The lady changed her mind while you were across?" I risked the query. 

"While I was shedding my blood for my country. " He nodded. "Gave me thebutt while the Huns were using the bayonet on me. "

In the careless jeer, as much at himself as at her, no hint what hispresent feeling might be toward the fashion plate young female acrossthere. With some fellows, in such a situation, I should have looked fora disposition to duck the encounter; let his old sweetheart's weddingparty leave without seeing him; with others I should have discounted adramatic moment when he would court the meeting. It was impossible tosuppose either thing of Worth Gilbert; plain that he simply sat therebecause he sat there, and would make no move toward the other tableunless something in that direction interested him--pleasantly orunpleasantly--which at present nothing seemed to do. 

So we smoked, Worth indifferent, I giving all the attention to thepeople over there: bride and groom; a couple of fair haired girls solike the bride that I guessed them to be sisters; a freckled, impudentlooking little flapper I wasn't so sure of; two older men, and an olderwoman. Then a shifting of figures gave me sight of a face that I hadn'tseen before, and I drew in my breath with a whistle. 

"Whew! Who's the dark girl? She's a beauty!"

"Dark girl?" Worth had interest enough to lean into the place where Igot my view; after he did so he remained to stare. I sat and grinnedwhile he muttered, "Can't be. .. . I believe it is!"

Something to make him sit up and take notice now. I didn't wonder at hisfixed study of the young creature. Not so dressed up as the others--Ithink she wore what ladies call an evening blouse with a street suit; abrunette, but of a tinting so delicate that she fairly sparkled, shetook the shine off those blonde girls. Her small beautifully formed, uncovered head had the living jet of the crow's wing; her great eyes, long-lashed and sumptuously set, showed ebon irises almost obliteratingthe white. Dark, shining, she was a night with stars, that girl. 

"Funny thing, " Worth spoke, moving his head to keep in line with thatface. "How could she grow up to be like this--a child that wasn'tallowed any childhood? Lord, she never even had a doll!"

"Some doll herself now, " I smiled. 

"Yeh, " he assented absently, "she's good looking--but where did shelearn to dress like that--and play the game?"

"Where they all learn it. " I enjoyed very much seeing him interested. "From her mother, and her sisters, or the other girls. "

"Not. " He was positive. "Her mother died when she was a baby. Her fatherwouldn't let her be with other children--treated her like one of theinstruments in his laboratory; trained her in her high chair; problemsin concentration dumped down into its tray, punishment if she made afailure; God knows what kind of a reward if she succeeded; maybe no morethan her bowl of bread and milk. That's the kind of a deal she got whenshe was a kid. And will you look at her now!"

If he kept up his open staring at the girl, it would be only a matter oftime when the wedding party discovered him. I leaned back in my chair towatch, while Worth, full of his subject, spilled over in words. 

"Never played with anybody in her life--but me, " he said unexpectedly. "They lived next house but one to us; the professor had the rest of theSanta Ysobel youngsters terrorized, backed off the boards; but I wasn'ta steady resident of the burg. I came and went, and when I came, it wasplaytime for the little girl. "

"What was her father? Crank on education?"

"Psychology, " Worth said briefly. "International reputation. But heought to have been hung for the way he brought Bobs up. Listen to this, Jerry. I got off the train one time at Santa Ysobel--can't remember justwhen, but the kid over there was all shanks and eyes--'bout ten oreleven, I'd say. Her father had her down at the station doing a stuntfor a bunch of professors. That was his notion of a nice, normaldevelopment for a small child. There she sat poked up cross-legged on abaggage truck. He'd trained her to sit in that self balanced position soshe could make her mind blank without going to sleep. A freight trainwas hitting a twenty mile clip past the station, and she was adding thenumbers on the sides of the box cars, in her mind. It kept thoseprofessors on the jump to get the figures down in their notebooks, butshe told them the total as the caboose was passing. "

"Some stunt, " I agreed. "Freight car numbers run up into theten-thousands. " Worth didn't hear me, he was still deep in the past. 

"Poor little white-faced kid, " he muttered. "I dumped my valises, hornedinto that bunch, picked her off the truck and carried her away on myshoulder, while the professor yelled at me, and the other ginks weretabbing up their additions. And I damned every one of them, to hell andthrough it. "

"You must have been a popular youth in your home town, " I suggested. 

"I was, " he grinned. "My reason for telling you that story, though, isthat I've got an idea about the girl over there--if she hasn't changedtoo much. I think maybe we might--"

He stood up calmly to study her, and his tall figure instantly drew theattention of everybody in the room. Over at the long table it was thesharp, roving eye of the snub-nosed flapper that spied him first. I sawher give the alarm and begin pushing back her chair to bolt right acrossand nab him. The sister sitting next stopped her. Judging from theglimpses I had as the party spoke together and leaned to look, it wasquite a sensation. But apparently by common consent they left whatevermove was to be made to the bride; and to my surprise this move was mostunconventional. She got up with an abrupt gesture and started over toour table--alone. This, for a girl of her sort, was going some. Iglanced doubtfully at Worth. He shrugged a little. 

"Might as well have it over. Her family lives on one side of us, andBrons Vandeman on the other. "

And then the bride was with us. She didn't overdo the thing--much; onlyheld out her hand with a slightly pleading air as though half afraid itwould be refused. And it was a curious thing to see that pretty, delicate featured, schooled face of hers naïvely drawn in lines ofemotion--like a bisque doll registering grief. 

Gilbert took the hand, shook it, and looked around with the evidentintention of presenting me. I saw by the way the lady gave me hershoulder, pushing in, speaking low, that she didn't want anything of thesort, and quietly dropped back. I barely got a side view of Worth'sface, but plainly his calmness was a disappointment to her. 

"After these years!" I caught the fringes of what she was saying. "Itseems like a dream. To-night--of all times. But you will come over toour table--for a minute anyhow? They're just going to--to drink ourhealth--Oh, Worth!" That last in a sort of impassioned whisper. And allhe answered was, "If I might bring Mr. Boyne with me, Mrs. Vandeman. " At her protestingexpression, he finished, "Or do I call you Ina, still?"

She gave him a second look of reproach, acknowledging my introduction inthat way some women have which assures you they don't intend to know youin the least the next time. We crossed to the table and met the others. 

If anybody had asked my opinion, I should have said it was a mistake togo. Our advent in that party--or rather Worth Gilbert's advent--wasbound to throw the affair into a sort of consternation. No mistake aboutthat. The bridegroom at the head of the table seemed the only one ableto keep a grip on the situation. He welcomed Worth as though he wantedhim, took hold of me with a glad hand, and presented me in such rapidsuccession to everybody there that I was dizzy. And through it all I hadan eye for Worth as he met and disposed of the effusive welcome of theyounger Thornhill girls. Either of the twins, as I found them to be, would, I judged, have been more than willing to fill out sister Ina'sunexpired term, and the little snub-nosed one, also a sister it seemed, plainly adored him as a hero, sexlessly, as they sometimes can at thatage. 

While yet he shook hands with the girls, and swapped short replies forlong questions, I became conscious of something odd in the air. Plainenough sailing with the young ladies; all the noise with them echoed thebride's, "After all these years. " They clattered about whether he lookedlike his last photograph, and how perfectly delightful it was going tobe to have him back in Santa Ysobel again. 

But when it came to the chaperone, a Mrs. Dr. Bowman, things weredifferent. No longer young, though still beautiful in what I might calla sort of wasted fashion, with slim wrists and fragile fingers, and asplendid mass of rich, auburn hair, I had been startled, even lookingacross from our table, by the extreme nervous tension of her face. Shelooked a neurasthenic; but that was not all; surely her nerves werealmost from under control as she sat there, her rich cloak dropped backover her chair, the corners caught up again and fumbled in a twisting, restless hold. 

Now, when Worth stood before her appealing eyes, she reached up andclutched his hand in both of hers, staring at him through quick tears, saying something in a low, choking tone, something that I couldn't forthe life of me make into the greeting you give even a beloved youngsteryou haven't seen for several years. 

At the moment, I was myself being presented to the lady's husband, atypical top-grade, small town medical man, with a fine bedside manner. His nice, smooth white hands, with which I had watched him feeling thepulse of his supper as though it had been a wealthy patient, releasedmine; those cold eyes of his, that hid a lot of meaning under heavylids, came around on his wife. His, "Laura, control yourself. Where do you think you are?" was like a lash. 

It worked perfectly. Of course she would be his patient as well as hiswife. Yet I hated the man for it. To me it seemed like the cut of thewhip that punishes a sensitive, over excited Irish setter for a fault inthe hunting field. Mrs. Bowman quivered, pulled herself together and satdown, but her gaze followed the boy. 

She sat there stilled, but not quieted, under her husband's eye, andwatched Worth's meeting with the other man, whom I heard the boy callJim Edwards, and with whom he shook hands, but who met him, as Mrs. Bowman had, as though there had been something recent between them; notlike people bridging a long gap of absence. 

And this man, tall, thin, the power in his features contradicted by apair of soft dark eyes, deep-set, looking out at you with an expressionof bafflement, defeat--why did he face Worth with the stare of onedrenched, drowned in woe? It wasn't his wedding. He hadn't done Worthany dirt in the matter. 

And I was wedged in beside the beautiful dark girl, without having beenpresented to her, without even having had the luck to hear what nameWorth used when he spoke to her. At last the flurry of our comingsettled down (though I still felt that we were stuck like a sliver intothe wedding party, that the whole thing ached from us) and Dr. Bowmanproposed the health of the happy couple, his bedside manner going overpretty well, as he informed Vandeman and the rest of us that thebridegroom was a social leader in Santa Ysobel, and that the hope of itsbest people was to place him and his bride at the head of things there, leading off with the annual Blossom Festival, due in about a fortnight. 

Vandeman responded for himself and his bride, appropriately, with whatI'd call a sort of acceptable, fabricated geniality. You could see hewas the kind that takes such things seriously, one who would go to workto make a success of any social doings he got into, would give what hisset called good parties; and he spoke feelingly of the Blossom Festival, which was the great annual event of a little town. If by putting hisshoulder to the wheel he could boost that affair into nation-wide fameand place a garland of rich bloom upon the brow of his fair city, he waswilling to take off his neatly tailored coat, roll up his immaculateshirtsleeves and go to it. 

There was no time for speech making. The girls wanted to dance; brideand groom were taking the one o'clock train for the south and Coronado. The orchestra swung into "I'll Say She Does. "

"Just time for one. " Vandeman guided his bride neatly out between thechairs, and they moved away. I turned from watching them to find Worthasking Mrs. Bowman to dance. 

"Oh, Worth, _dearest_! I ought to let one of the girls have you, but--"

She looked helplessly up at him; he smiled down into her tense, suffering face, and paid no attention to her objections. As soon as hecarried her off, Jim Edwards glumly took out that one of the twins I hadat first supposed to be the elder, the remaining Thornhill girls movedon Dr. Bowman and began nagging him to hunt partners for them. 

"Drag something up here, " prompted the freckled tomboy, "or I'll makeyou dance with me yourself. " She grabbed a coat lapel, and started awaywith him. 

I turned and laughed into the laughing face of the dark girl. I had noidea of her name, yet a haunting resemblance, a something somehowfamiliar came across to me which I thought for a moment was only thesweet approachableness of her young femininity. 

Bowman had found and collared a partner for Ernestine Thornhill, butthat was as far as it went. The little one forebore her threat of makinghim dance with her, came back to her chair and tucked herself in, snuggling up to the girl beside me, getting hold of a hand and lookingat me across it. She rejoiced, it seems, in the nickname of Skeet, forby that the other now spoke to her whisperingly, saying it was too badabout the dance. 

"That's nothing, " Skeet answered promptly. "I'd a lot rather sit hereand talk to you--and your gentleman friend--" with a large wink forme--"if you don't mind. "

At the humorous, intimate glance which again passed between me and thedark girl, sudden remembrance came to me, and I ejaculated, "I know you now!"

"Only now?" smiling. 

"You've changed a good deal in seven years, " I defended myself. 

"And you so very little, " she was still smiling, "that I had almost amind to come and shake hands with you when Ina went to speak to Worth. "

I remembered then that it was Worth's recognition of her which hadbrought him to his feet. I told her of it, and the glowing, vivid facewas suddenly all rosy. Skeet regarded the manifestation askance, askingjealously, "When did you see Worth last, Barbie? You weren't still living in SantaYsobel when he left, were you?"

I sat thinking while the girlish voices talked on. Barbie--the nicknamefor Barbara. Barbara Wallace; the name jumped at me from a poster;that's where I first saw it. It linked itself up with what Worth hadsaid over there about the forlorn childhood of this beguiling youngcharmer. Why hadn't I remembered then? I, too, had my recollections ofBarbara Wallace. About seven years before, I had first seen her, aslim, dark little thing of twelve or fourteen, very badly dressed inslinky, too-long skirts that whipped around preposterously thin ankles, blue-black hair dragged away from a forehead almost too fine, made intoa bundle of some fashion that belonged neither to childhood norwomanhood, her little, pointed face redeemed by a pair of big black eyeswith a wonderful inner light, the eyes of this girl glowing here at myleft hand. 

The father Worth spoke of brusquely as "the professor" was ElmanWallace, to whom all students of advanced psychology are heavilyindebted. The year I heard him, and saw the girl, his course of lecturesat Stanford University was making quite a stir. I had been one of abunch of criminologists, detectives and police chiefs who, during astate convention were given a demonstration of the little girl's powers, closing with a sort of rapid pantomime in which I was asked to takepart. A half dozen of us from the audience planned exactly what we wereto do. I rushed into the room through one door, holding my straw hat inmy left hand, and wiping my brow with a handkerchief with the right. From an opposite door, came two men; one of them fired at me twice witha revolver held in his left hand. I fell, and the second man--the onewho wasn't armed--ran to me as I staggered, grabbed my hat, and the twoof them went out the door I had entered, while I stumbled through theone by which they had come in. It lasted all told, not half a minute, the idea being for those who looked on to write down what had happened. 

Those trained criminologists, supposed to have eyes in their heads, didn't see half that really took place, and saw a-plenty that did not. Most of 'em would have hung the man who snatched my hat. Only one, Iremember, noticed that I was shot by a left-handed man. Then the littlegirl told us what really had occurred, every detail, just as though shehad planned it instead of being merely an observer. 

"Pardon me, " I broke in on the girls. "Miss Wallace, you don't mean tosay that you really know me again after seeing me once, seven years ago, in a group of other men at a public performance?"

"Why shouldn't I? You saw me then. You knew me again. "

"But you were doing wonderful things. We remember what strikes us asthat did me. "

She looked at me with a little fading of that glow her face seemedalways to hold. 

"Most memories are like that, " she agreed listlessly. "Mine isn't. Itworks like a cinema camera; I've only to turn the crank the other way tobe looking at any past record. "

"But can you--?" I was beginning, when Skeet stopped me, leaning aroundher companion, bristling at me like a snub-nosed terrier. 

"If you want to make a hit with Barbie, cut out the reminiscences. Shedoes loathe being reminded that she was once an infant phenom. "

I glanced at my dark eyed girl; she bent her head affirmatively. Shewouldn't have been capable of Skeet's rudeness, but plainly Skeet hadnot overstated her real feeling. I had hardly begun an apology when thedancers rushed back to the table with the information that there was nomore than time to make the Los Angeles train; there was an instantgrasping of wraps, hasty good-bys, and the party began breaking up witha bang. Worth went out to the sidewalk with them; I sat tight waitingfor him to return, and to my surprise, when he finally did appear, Barbara Wallace was with him. 

CHAPTER IV

AN APPARITION

"Don't look so scared!" she said smilingly to me. "I'm only on yourhands a few minutes; a package left to be called for. "

I had watched them coming back to me at our old table, with itstelephone extension, the girl with eyes for no one but Worth, who helpedher out of her wrap now with a preoccupied air and, "Shed the coat, Bobs, " adding as he seated her beside him, "The luck ofluck that I chanced on you here this evening. "

That brought the color into her face; the delicate rose shifted underher translucent skin almost with the effect of light, until thatlustrous midnight beauty of hers was as richly glowing as one of thosemarvellous dark opals of the antipodes. 

"Yes, " she said softly, with a smile that set two dimples deep in thepink of her cheeks, "wasn't it strange our meeting this way?" Worthwasn't looking at her. He'd signaled a waiter, ordered a pot of blackcoffee, and was watching its approach. "I didn't go down to the wedding, but Ina herself invited me to come here to-night. I had half a mind notto; then at the last minute I decided I would--and I met you!"

Worth nodded, sat there humped in a brown study while the waiter pouredour coffee. The minute the man left us alone, he turned to her with, "I've got a stunt for you. "

"A--a stunt?"

The light failed abruptly in her face; her mouth with its soft, firmmolding, its vivid, floral red, like the lips of a child, went down abit at the clean-cut corners. A small hand fumbled the trimming of herblouse; it was almost as if she laid it over a wounded heart. 

"Yes, " he nodded. "Jerry's got something in his pocket that'll be piefor you. "

She turned to me a look between angry and piteous--the resentment shewould not vent on him. 

"Is--is Mr. Boyne interested in stunts--such as I used to do?"

"Sure, " Worth agreed. "We both are. We--"

"Oh, that was why you wanted me to come back with you?" She had got holdof herself now. She was more poised, but still resentful. 

"Bobs, " he cut straight across her mood to what he wanted, "Jerry Boyneis going to read you something it took about 'steen blind people tosee--and you'll give us the answer. " I didn't share his confidence, butI rather admired it as he finished, poising the tongs, "One lump, ortwo?"

Of course I knew what he meant. My hand was already fumbling in mypocket for the description of Clayte. The girl looked as though shewasn't going to answer him; she moved to shove back her chair. Worth'sonly recognition of her attitude was to put out a hand quietly, touchher arm, not once looking at her, and say in a lowered tone, "Steady, Bobs. " And then, "Did you say one lump or two?"

"None. " Her voice was scarcely audible, but I saw she was going to stay;that Worth was to have his way, to get from her the opinion hewanted--whatever that might amount to. And I passed the paper to him, suggesting, "Let her read it. This is too public a place to be declaiming a thing ofthe sort. "

She hesitated a minute then gave it such a mere flirt of a glance that Ihardly thought she'd seen what it was, before she raised inquiring eyesto mine and asked coldly, "Why shouldn't that be read--shouted every ten minutes by the trafficofficer at Market and Kearny? They'd only think he was paging everyother man in the Palace Hotel. "

I leaned back and chuckled. After a bare glance, this sharp witted girlhad hit on exactly what I'd thought of the Clayte description. 

"Is that all? May I go now, Worth?" she said, still with that dashed, disappointed look from one of us to the other. "If you'll just put me ona Haight Street car--I won't wait for--" And now she made a definitemovement to rise; but again Worth held her by the mere touch of hisfingers on her sleeve. 

"Wait, Bobs, " he said. "There's more. "

"More?" Her eyes on Worth's face talked louder than her tongue, but thatalso gained fluency as he looked back at her and nodded. "Stunts!" sherepeated his word bitterly. "I didn't expect you to come back asking meto do stunts. I hated it all so--working out things like a calculatingmachine!" Her voice sank to a vehement undertone. "Nobody thinking ofme as human, with human feelings. I have never--done--one stunt--sincemy father died. "

She didn't weaken. She sat there and looked Worth squarely in the eye, yet there was a kind of big gentleness in her refusal, a freedom frompetty resentment, that had in it not so much a girl's hurt vanity as theoutspoken complaint of a really grieved heart. 

"But, Bobs, " Worth smiled at her trouble, about the same careless, good-natured smile he had given little Pete when he flipped him thequarter, "suppose you could possibly save me a hundred thousand dollarsa minute?"

"Then it's not just a stunt?" She settled slowly back in her chair. 

"Certainly not, " I said. "This is business--with me, anyhow. MissWallace, why do you think a description like that could be shouted onthe street without any one being the wiser?"

"Was it supposed to be a description?" she asked, raising her brows abit. 

"The best we could get from sixteen or eighteen people, most of whomhave known the man a long time; some of them for eight years. "

"And no one--not one of all these people could differentiate him?"

"I've done my best at questioning them. "

She gave me one straight, level look, and I wondered a little at the waythose velvety black eyes could saw into a fellow. But she put no query, and I had the cheap satisfaction of knowing that she was convinced I'doverlooked no details in the quiz that went to make up thatdescription. Then she turned to Worth. 

"You said I might save you a lot of money. Has the man you're tryinghere to describe anything to do with money--in large amounts--financialaffairs of importance?"

Again the little girl had unconsciously scored with me. To imagine arabbit like Clayte, alone, swinging such an enormous job was ridiculous. From the first, my mind had been reaching after the others--thebig-brained criminals, the planners whose instrument he was. Sheevidently saw this, but Worth answered her. 

"He's quite a financier, Bobs. He walked off with nearly a million cashto-day. "

"From you?" with a quick breath. 

"I'm the main loser if he gets away with it. "

"Tell me about it. "

And Worth gave her a concise account of the theft and his own share inthe affair. She listened eagerly now, those innocent great eyes growingbig with the interest of it. With her there was no blind stumbling overWorth's motive in buying a suitcase sight unseen. I had guessed, but sheunderstood completely and unquestioningly. When he had finished, shesaid solemnly, "You know, don't you, that, if you've got your facts right--if thesethings you've told me are square, even cubes of fact--they prove Clayteamong the wonderful men of the world?"

Worth's big brown paw went out and covered her little hand that lay onthe table's edge. 

"Now we're getting somewhere, " he encouraged her. As for me, I merelysnorted. 

"Wonderful man, my eye! He's got a wonderful gang behind him. "

"Oh, you should have told me that you know there is a gang, Mr. Boyne, "she said simply. "Of course, then, the result is different. "

"Well, " I hedged, "there's a gang all right. But suppose there wasn't, how would you find any wonderfulness in a creature as near nothing asthis Clayte?"

She sat and thought for a moment, drawing imaginary lines on the tabletop, finally looking up at me with a narrowing of the lids, a tighteningof the lips, which gave an extraordinary look of power to her youngfeminine face. 

"In that case, Clayte would inevitably be one of the wonderful men ofthe world, " she repeated her characterization with the placid, softobstinacy of falling, snow. "Didn't you stop a minute--one littleminute, Mr. Boyne--to think it wonderful that a man so devoid ofpersonality as that--" she slanted a slim finger across the descriptionof Clayte--"Didn't you add up in your mind all that you told me aboutthe men disagreeing as to which side he parted his hair on, whether hewore tan shoes or black, a fedora or derby, smoked or didn't, --absolutely nothing left as to peculiarities of face, figure, movement, expression, manner or habit to catch the eye of one singleobserver among the sixteen or eighteen you questioned--surely you addedthat up, Mr. Boyne? What result did you get?"

"Nothing, " I admitted. "To hear you repeat it, of course it sounds as ifthe man was a freak. But he wasn't. He was just one of those fellowsthat are born utterly commonplace, and slide through life withoutgetting any marks put on 'em. "

"And is it nothing that this man became a teller in a bank withoutinfringing at all on the circle of his nothingness? Remained so shadowythat neither the president nor cashier can, after eight years'association, tell the color of his hair and eyes? Then add the fact thathe is the one clerk in the bank without a filed photograph anddescription on record with your agency--what result now, Mr. Boyne?"

"A coincidence, " I said, rather hastily. 

"Don't, please, Mr. Boyne!" her eyes glowed softly as she smiled hermild sarcasm. "Admit that he has ceased to be a freak and becomes amarvel. "

"As you put it--" I began, but she cut in on me with, "I haven't put it yet. Listen. " She was smiling still, but it was plainshe was thoroughly in earnest. "When this cipher--this nought--thiszero--manages to annex to himself a million dollars that doesn't belongto him, his nothingness gains a specific meaning. The zero is animportant factor in mathematics. I think we have placed a digit beforethe long string of ciphers of Clayte's nothingness. "

"Nothing and nothing--make nothing. " I spoke more brusquely because Iwas irritated by her logic. "You called the turn when you spoke of himas a zero. There are digits to be added, but they're the gang thatplanned and helped--and used zero Clayte as their tool. You're talkingof those digits, not Clayte. "

"I believe Bobs'll find them for you, Jerry--if you'll let her, " saidWorth. 

"Oh, I'll let anybody do anything"--a bit nettled. "I'm ready to haveour friend Clayte take his place, with the pyramids and the hanginggardens of Babylon, among the earth's wonders; but you've got to showme. "

"All right. " Worth gave the girl a look that brought something of thatwonderful rose flush fluttering back into her cheeks. "I'm betting onher. Go to it, Bobsie--let him in on your mathematical logic. "

"You used the word 'coincidence, ' Mr. Boyne. " She leaned across towardme, eyes bright, little finger tip marking her points. "Allow onecoincidence--that the only description, the only photograph missing fromyour files are those of the self-effacing Clayte. To-day Clayte hasproved to be a thief--"

"In seven figures, " Worth threw in, and she smiled at him. 

"You would call that another coincidence, Mr. Boyne?"

I nodded, rather unable at the moment to think of a better word to use. 

"Two coincidences, " she went on, --"we are still in mathematics--youcan't add. They run by geometrical progression into the impossible. "

The phone rang. While I turned to answer it, my mind was still hunting acomeback to this. The call was from Foster, just in from Ocean View andreporting for instructions. Covering the transmitter with my hand, Itold Worth the situation and asked, "Any suggestions?"

"Not I, " he shook his head. I added, a bit sarcastically, "Or you, Miss Wallace?"

"Yes, " she surprised me. "Have your man Foster find three women who haveseen Edward Clayte; get from them the color of his hair and eyes; tellhim to have them be exact about it. "

"Fine! But you know they'll not agree, any more than the other peopleagreed. "

"Oh, yes they will, " she laughed at me a little. "Don't you notice thata girl always says a blue-eyed man or a brown-eyed man? That's what shesees when she first meets him, and it sticks in her mind. Girls andwomen sort out people by types; small differences in color meansomething to them. "

I didn't keep Foster waiting any longer. 

"Hello, " I spoke quickly into the transmitter. "Get busy and dig out anywomen clerks of the bank, stenographers, scrub-women there, or whatever, and ask them particularly as to the exact shade of Clayte's hair andeyes. Get Mrs. Griggsby again at the St. Dunstan. I want at least threewomen who can give these points exactly. Exactly, understand?"

He did, and I thanked Miss Wallace for her suggestion. 

"Now that, " I said, "is what I want; a good, practical idea--"

"And it won't be a bit of use in the world to you, " she laughed acrossthe table into my eyes. "Why, Mr. Boyne, you've found out already thatthere are too many Edward Claytes, speaking in physical terms, for youto run one down by description. There are three of him here, withinsight of our table right now--and the place isn't crowded. "

I grinned in half grudging agreement, and found nothing to say. It wasWorth who spoke. 

"Like to have you go a step further in this, if you would, " and when sheshook her head, he went on a bit sharply. "See here, Bobs; you and Iused to be pals, didn't we?" She nodded, her look brightening. "Wellthen, here's the biggest game I've been up against since I crawled outof the trenches and shucked my uniform. I come to you and give you thehigh-sign--and you throw me down. You don't want to play with me--isthat it?"

"Oh, Worth! I do. I do want to play with you, " she was almost in tearsnow. "But you see, I didn't quite understand. I felt as though you weresort of putting me through my paces. "

"Sure not, " Worth drove it at her like a turbulent urchin. "I'm havingthe time of my young life with this thing, and I want to take you in onit. "

"If--if you fail you lose a lot of money; wasn't that what you said?"she questioned. 

"Oh, yes, " he nodded, "Nothing in it if there weren't a gamble. "

"And if he wins out, he makes quite a respectable pile, " I added. 

"What I want of you now, " he explained, "is to go with us to Clayte'sroom at the St. Dunstan--the room he disappeared from--look it over andtell us how he got out and where he went. "

He made his request light-heartedly; she considered it after the samefashion; it seemed to me all absurdity. 

"To-morrow morning--Sunday, " she said. "No office to-morrow, " she sippedthe last of her black coffee slowly. "All the rest of the facts thereever will be about Edward Clayte are in that room--aren't they?" Hervoice was musing; she looked straight ahead of her as she finishedsoftly, "What time do we go?"

"Early. Does nine o'clock suit you?" Worth didn't even glance at me ashe made this arrangement for us both. "We'd scoot up there now if itwasn't so late. "

"I've no doubt you'll find the place carpeted with zeros and hung withnoughts and ciphers. " I couldn't refrain from joshing her a little. Shetook it with a smile glanced across the room, looked a little surprised, and half rose with, "Why, there they are for me now. "

I couldn't see anybody that she might mean, except a man who had walkedthe length of the place talking to the head waiter, and now stoodarguing at the corner of what had been Bronson Vandeman's supper table. This man evidently had his attention directed to us, turned, looked, andin the moment of his crossing I saw that it was Cummings. There was noteven the usual tight-lipped half smile under that cropped mustache ofhis. 

"Good evening. " He looked at our faces, uttering none of the surprise heplainly felt, letting the two words do for greeting to us all, and, asit seemed, to me, an expression of disapproval as well. The young ladyreplied first. 

"Oh, Mr. Cummings, did they send you for me? Where are the others?"

She had come to her feet, and reached for the coat which Worth washolding more as if he meant to keep it than put it on her. 

"I left your chaperone waiting in the machine, " Cumming's tone and lookcarried a plain hurry-up. Worth took his time about the coat, and spokelow to the girl while he helped her into it. 

"You'll go with us to-morrow morning?"

She gave me one of those adorable smiles that brought the dimplesmomentarily in her cheeks. 

"If Mr. Boyne wants me. He hasn't said yet. "

"Do I need to?" I asked. The question seemed reasonable. There shestood, such a very pretty girl, between her two cavaliers who looked ateach other with all the traditional hostility that belonged to thesituation. She smiled on both, and didn't neglect me. I settled thematter with, "Worth has your address; we'll call for you in my machine. " And I gotthe idea that Cummings was asking questions about it as he went awayholding her arm. 

"Do you think the little girl will really be of any use?" I spoke to theback of Worth's head as he continued to stare after them. 

"Sure. I know she will. " He shoved his crumpled napkin in among thecoffee service, and we moved toward the desk. "Sure she will, " herepeated. "Wonder where she met Cummings. "

CHAPTER V

AT THE ST. DUNSTAN

At the Palace Hotel Sunday morning where I went to pick up Worth beforewe should call for little Miss Wallace, he met me in high spirits andwith an enthusiasm that demanded immediate physical action. 

"Heh, " I said, "you look fine. Must have slept well. "

"Make it rested, and I'll go you, " he came back cheerfully. 

He'd already been out, going down to the Grant Avenue corner for anassortment of Bay cities papers not to be had at the hotel news-stands, so that he could see whether our canny announcement of Clayte's fifteenthousand dollar defalcation had received discreet attention from theAssociated Press. 

For my part, our agency had been able to get hold of three women who hadseen Clayte and remembered the event; Mrs. Griggsby; a stenographer atthe bank; and the woman who sold newspapers at the St. Dunstan corner. Miss Wallace's suggestion had proven itself, for these three agreed withfair exactness, and the description run in the late editions of the citypapers was less vague than the others. It gave Clayte's eyes as a palegray-blue, and his hair as dull brown, eliminating at least allbrown-eyed men. Worth asserted warmly, "That girl's going to be useful to us, Boyne. " I couldn't well disagreewith him, after using her hint. We were getting out of the elevator onthe office floor when he looked at me, grinned boyishly, and added, "What would you say if I told you I was being shadowed?"

"That I thought it very likely, " I nodded. "Also I might hazard a guessat whose money is paying for it. "

He gave me a quick glance, but asked no questions. I could see he wasenjoying his position, up to the hilt, considered the attentions of atrailer as one of its perquisites. 

"Keep your eyes open and you'll spot him as we go out, " he said as heleft the key at the desk. 

It was hardly necessary to keep my eyes open to see the lurking figureover beyond the easy-chairs, which started galvanically as we passedthrough the court, and a moment later came sidling after us. Little Petehad left my machine at the Market Street entrance--Worth was to driveme--and we wheeled away from a disappointed man racing for the taxi linearound the corner. 

"More power to his legs, " Worth said. 

"Oh, I don't know, " I grunted as we cut into Montgomery, negotiated thecorner onto Bush Street's clear way, striking a fair clip at once. "Thatend of him already works better than the other. How did you get wise?"

"Barbara Wallace telephoned me to look out for him, " he smiled, and letmy car out another notch once we'd passed the traffic cop at Kearny. 

I myself had foreseen the possibility--but only as a possibility--thatDykeman would put a man on Worth's coat-tails, since I knew Dykeman andhad been at that bank meeting; yet I had not regarded it as likelyenough to warn Worth; and here was this girl phoning him to look out fora trailer. Was this some more of her deductive reasoning, or hadCummings dropped a hint?

She was waiting for us in front of the Haight Street boarding house thatserved her for a home, and we tucked her between us on the roadster'swide seat. At the St. Dunstan we found my man, left there since the hourof the alarm the day before, and everybody belonging to the managementsurly and glum. The clerk handed me Clayte's key across the morningpapers spread out on his desk. Apartment houses dislike notoriety ofthis sort, and the St. Dunstan set up to be as rabidly respectable, aschemically pure as any in the city. Well, no use their blaming me;Clayte was their misfortune; they couldn't expect me to keep the matterout of print entirely. 

The three of us crowded into the automatic elevator, and I pressed theseventh floor button. The girl's eyes shone under the wisp of veiltwisted around a knowing little turban. She liked the taste of theadventure. 

"That man came this way--with that suitcase, " she breathed, "--maybe setit down right there when he pressed the button--just as Mr. Boyne didnow!"

It was a fine morning; the shades had been left up, and Clayte's roomwhen I opened the door was ablaze with sunlight. 

"How delightful!" Barbara Wallace stopped on the threshold and lookedabout her. I expected the scientific investigating to begin; but no--shewas all taken up with the beauty of sunlight and view. 

The seventh was the top floor. The St. Dunstan stood almost at thesummit where Nob Hill slants obliquely to north and east, and PowellStreet dizzies down the steep descent to North Beach and the Bay. Thegirl had run to a window, and was looking out toward the marvelous showof blue-green water and distant Berkeley hills. 

"Will you open this window for me, please?" she asked. I stepped to herside, forestalling Worth who was eyeing the room's interior withcuriosity. 

"You'll notice the burglar-proof sash locks, " I said as I manipulatedthis one. She gave only casual interest, her attention still on the viewbeyond. The steel latch, fastened to the upper sash, locked into thesocket on the lower sash by a lever-catch. "See? I must pull out thislittle lever before I can push the hasp back with my thumb--so. Now thewindow may be shoved up, " and I illustrated. 

"Yes, " she nodded; then, "Look at the wisps of fog around Tamalpais'stop. Worth, come here and see the violet shadows of the clouds on thebay. "

"North wind coming up, " agreed Worth, stepping to the farther window. 

"It's bringing in the fog, " she said; then abruptly, giving me the firsthint that little Miss Wallace considered herself on the job, "Will itnot latch by itself if you jam it shut hard?"

"It will not. " I illustrated with a bang. The latch still remained open. "I must close it by hand. " I pushed the hasp into the keeper, and, snap--the lever shot back and it was fast. 

"But a window like that couldn't be opened from outside, even withoutthe locking lever, " she remarked, gazing again toward the Marin shore. 

"A man with the know--a burglar--can open the ordinary window latch inless than a minute, " I told her. "With a jimmy pinched between the sashand the sill, a recurring pressure starts the latch back; nothing tohold it. This--unless he cuts the glass--is burglar-proof. "

Worth, at her shoulder, now looked down the sheer descent whichexaggerated the seven stories of the St. Dunstan; because of itscrowning position on the hill and the intersection of streets, we lookedover the roofs of the houses before us, far above their chimney tops. Icaught his eye and grinned across the girl's head, suggesting, "Besides, we weren't trying to find how some one could break into thisroom, but how they could break out. Even if the latches had not beenlocked, there wouldn't be an answer in these windows--unless Claytecould fly. "

"Might have climbed from one window ledge to the next and so made hisway to the fire-escape, " Worth said, but I shook my head. 

"He'd be seen from the windows by the tenants on six floors--and nobodysaw him. Might as well take the elevator or the stairs--which hedidn't. "

But the girl wasn't listening to any of this. Her expression attentive, alert, she was passing her hand around the edge of the glass of eithersash, as though she still dwelt on my suggestion of cutting the pane;and as we watched her, she murmured to herself, "Yes, flying would be a good way. " It made me laugh. 

And then she turned away from the windows and had no more interest inany of them, going with me all over the rest of the room with rather theair of a person who thought of renting it than a high-brow criminalinvestigator hunting clews. 

"He lived here--years, you say?" I nodded. She slid her hand over theplush cushions of a morris chair, threw back the covers of an iron bedin one corner and felt of the mattress, then went and stood before thebare little dresser. "Why, the place expresses no more personality thana room in a transient hotel!"

"He hadn't any personality, " I growled, and got the flicker of a smilefrom her eye. 

"What about those library books he carried in the suitcase?" Worth camein with an echo from the bank meeting. 

"Some more bunk, " I said morosely. "So far we've not been able to locatehim as a patron of any public or private library, and the hotel clerk'ssure his mail never contained a correspondence course--in fact, neitherhere nor at the bank can any one remember his getting any mail. If heever carried books in that suitcase as Knapp believed, it was severalyears back. "

"Several years back, " Miss Wallace repeated low. 

"Myself, I've given up the idea of his studying. This crime doesn't lookto me like any sudden temptation of a model bank clerk, spending hisspare hours over correspondence courses. I rather expect to find himjust plain crook. "

"Oh, no, " the girl objected. "It's too big and too well done to havebeen planned by a dull, commonplace crook. "

"Right you are, " I agreed, with restored good humor. "A keen brainplanned this, but not Clayte's. There had to be an instrument--and thatwas Clayte--also, likely, one or more to help in the getaway. "

The getaway! That brought us back with a thump to the present moment. Our pretty girl had been all over the shop now, glanced into bathroom, closet and cupboard, noted abandoned hats, clothing and shoes, theelectric plate where Clayte got his breakfast coffee and toast, askedwithout much interest where he ate his other meals, and noddedagreeingly when she found that he'd been only an occasional customer atthe neighboring restaurants, never regular, apparently eating here andthere down-town. She seemed to get something out of that; what I didn'tknow. 

"You speak of this crime not being committed on impulse, " she turned tome at length. "How long ahead should you say he planned it?"

"Or had it planned and prepared for him, " I reminded her. 

"Well, that, then, " she conceded with slight impatience. "How long doyou think it might have been planned or prepared for? Years?"

"Hardly that. Not more than a year probably. A gang like this wouldn'thold together on a proposition for many months. "

The black brows over those clear, childlike eyes, puckered a bit. I sawshe wasn't at all satisfied with what I had said. 

"Made all the observations you want to, Bobs?" Worth asked. 

"All here. I want to see the roof. " She gave us rather a mechanicalsmile as she silently ticked her points off on her fingers, appealingto me with, "I'm depending upon you for such facts as I have been unableto observe for myself, so if you give me wrong facts--makemistakes--I'll make mistakes in deduction. "

There was such confidence in her deductive abilities that a tinge ofirony crept into my tones as I replied, "I'll be very careful what opinions I hold. "

"I don't mind the opinions, " this astounding young woman took me upgaily. "I never have any of my own, so I don't pay attention to anybodyelse's. But _do_ be careful of your facts!"

"I'll try to, " was all I said. Worth cut in with, "Do you consider the roof another fact, Bobs?"

"I hope to find facts there, " she answered promptly. 

"Remember, " I said, "your theory means another man up there, and youhaven't yet--"

"Please, Mr. Boyne, don't take two and two and make five of them at thisstage of the game, " she checked me hastily, and I left them togetherwhile I made a hurried survey of the hall ceilings, looking for thescuttle. There was no hatchway in view, so I started down to the clerkto make inquiry. As I passed Clayte's open door, Miss Wallace seemed tobe adjusting her turban before the dresser mirror, while Worth waitedimpatiently. 

"Just a minute, " I called. "I'll be right back, " and I ducked into theelevator. 

CHAPTER VI

ON THE ROOF

When I returned with a key and the information that the way to the roofran through the janitor's tool-room at the far end of the hall, I foundmy young people already out there. Worth was trying the tool-room door. 

"Got the key?" he called. "It's locked. "

"Yes. " I took my time fitting and turning it. "How did you know this wasthe room?"

"I didn't, " briefly. "Bobs walked out here, and I followed her. She saidwe'd want into this one. "

She'd guessed right again! I wheeled on her, ejaculating, "For the love of Mike! Tell a mere man how you deduced this stairway. Feminine intuition, I suppose. "

I hadn't meant to be offensive with that last, but her firm little chinwas in the air as she countered, "Is it a stairway? It might be a ladder, you know. "

It was a ladder, an iron ladder, as I found when I ushered them in. Myeyes snapped inquiry at her. 

"Very simple, " she said. Worth was pushing aside pails and boxes to makea better way for her to the ladder's foot. "There wouldn't be a roofscuttle in the rented rooms, so I knew when you called in to tell usthere was none in the halls. "

"I didn't. I said nothing of the sort. " Where was the girl's fine memorythat she couldn't recollect a man's words for the little time I'd beengone! "All I said was, 'Just a minute and I'll be back. '"

"Yes, that's all you said to Worth. " She glanced at the boy serenely ashe waited for her at the ladder's foot. "He's not a trained observer; hedoesn't deduce even from what he does observe. " There were twinklinglights in her black eyes. "But what your hurried trip to the office saidto me was that you'd gone for the key of the room that led to theroof scuttle. "

Well, that was reasonable--simple enough, too; but, "This room? How did you find it?"

She stepped to the open door and placed the tip of a gloved finger onthe nickeled naught that marked the panels. 

"The significant zero again, Mr. Boyne, " she laughed. "Here it means theroom is not a tenanted one, and is therefore the way to the roof. Shallwe go there?"

"Well, young lady, " I said as I led her along the trail Worth hadcleared, "it must be almost as bad to see everything that way--in minutedetail--as to be blind. "

"Carry on!" Worth called from the top of the ladder, reaching down toaid the girl. She laughed back at me as she started the short climb. 

"Not at all bad! You others seem to me only half awake to what is aboutyou--only half living, " and she placed her hand in the strong one helddown to her. As Worth passed her through the scuttle to the roof, I sawher glance carelessly at the hooks and staples, the clumsy but adequatearrangement for locking the hatch, and, following her, gave them morecareful attention, wondering what she had seen--plenty that I did not, no doubt. They had no tale to tell my eyes. 

Once outside, she stopped a minute with Worth to adjust herself to thesharp wind which swept across from the north. Here was a rectangularspace surrounded by walls which ran around its four sides to form thecoping, unbroken in any spot; a gravel-and-tar roof, almost flat, withthe scuttle and a few small, dust covered skylights its only openings, four chimney-tops its sole projections. It was bare of any hiding-place, almost as clear as a tennis court. 

We made a solemn tour of inspection; I wasn't greatly interested--howcould I be, knowing that between this roof and my fugitive there hadbeen locked windows, and a locked door under reliable human eyes? Still, the lifelong training of the detective kept me estimating thepossibilities of a getaway from the roof--if Clayte could have reachedit. Worth crossed to where the St. Dunstan fire escape came up from theground to end below us at a top floor window. I joined him, explainingas we looked down, "Couldn't have made it that way; not by daylight. In open view allaround. "

"Think he stayed up here till dark?" Worth suggested, quite as thoughthe possibility of Clayte's coming here at all was settled. 

"My men were all over this building--roof to cellar--within the hour. They'd not have overlooked a crack big enough for him to hide in. Putyourself in Clayte's place. Time was the most valuable thing in theworld with him right then. If ever he got up to this roof, he'd notwaste a minute longer on it than he had to. "

"Let's see what's beyond, then, " and Worth led the way to the fartherend. 

The girl didn't come with us. Having been once around the roof coping, looking, it seemed to me, as much at the view as anything else, she nowseemed content to settle herself on a little square of planking, adisused scuttle top or something of the sort, in against one of thechimneys where she was sheltered from the wind. Rather to my surprise, Isaw her thoughtfully pulling off her gloves, removing her turban, allthe time with a curiously disinterested air. I was reminded of whatWorth had said the night before about the way her father trained her. Probably she regarded the facts I'd furnished her, or that she'd pickedup for herself, much as she used to the problems in concentration herfather spread in the high chair tray of her infancy. I turned and lefther with them, for Worth was calling me to announce a fact I alreadyknew, that the adjoining building had a roof some fifteen feet belowwhere we stood, and that the man, admitting good gymnastic ability, might have reached it. 

"Sure, " I said. "But come on. We're wasting time here. "

We turned to go, and then stopped, both of us checked instantly by whatwe saw. The girl was sitting in a strange pose, her feet drawn in tocross beneath her body, slender hands at the length of the arms meetingwith interlaced finger-tips before her, the thumbs just touching;shoulders back, chin up, eyes--big enough at any time, now dilated tolook twice their size--velvet circles in a white face. Like a Buddha;I'd seen her sit so, years before, an undersized girl doing stunts forher father in a public hall; and even then she'd been in a wayimpressive. But now, in the fullness of young beauty, her fine headrelieved against the empty blue of the sky, the free winds whippingloose flying ends of her dark hair, she held the eye like a miracle. 

Sitting here so immovably, she looked to me as though life had slid awayfrom her for the moment, the mechanical action of lungs and hearttemporarily suspended, so that mind might work unhindered in thatbeautiful shell. No, I was wrong. She was breathing; her bosom rose andfell in slow but deep, placid inhalations and exhalations. And the paleface might be from the slower heart-beat, or only because the surfaceblood had receded to give more of strength to the brain. 

The position of head of a Bankers' Security Agency carries with it acertain amount of dignity--a dignity which, since Richardson's death, Ihave maintained better than I have handled other requirements of thebusiness he left with me. I stood now feeling like a fool. I'd growngray in the work, and here in my prosperous middle life, a boy's whimand a girl's pretty face had put me in the position of consulting aclairvoyant. Worse, for this was a wild-cat affair, without even theprofessional standing of establishments to which I knew some of the weakbrothers in my line sometimes sneaked for ghostly counsel. If it shouldleak out, I was done for. 

I suppose I sort of groaned, for I felt Worth put a restraining hand onmy arm, and heard his soft, "Psst!"

The two of us stood, how long I can't say, something besides the beautyof the young creature, even the dignity of her in this outré situationgetting hold of me, so that I was almost reverent when at last therigidity of her image-like figure began to relax, the pretty feet intheir silk stockings and smart pumps appeared where they belonged, sideby side on the edge of the planking, and she looked at us with eyes thatslowly gathered their normal expression, and a smile of rare humansweetness. 

"It _is_ horrid to see--and I loathe doing it!" She shook her curly darkhead like a punished child, and stayed a minute longer, eyes downcast, groping after gloves and hat. "I thought maybe I'd get the answer beforeyou saw me--sitting up like a trained seal!"

"Like a mighty pretty little heathen idol, Bobs, " Worth amended. 

"Well, it's the only way I can really concentrate--effectively. But thisis the first time I've done it since--since father died. "

"And never again for me, if that's the way you feel about it. " Worthcrossed quickly and stood beside her, looking down. She reached a handto him; her eyes thanked him; but as he helped her to her feet I wasstruck by a something poised and confident that she seemed to havebrought with her out of that strange state in which she had just been. 

"Doesn't either of you want to hear the answer?" she asked. Then, without waiting for reply, she started for the scuttle and the ladder, bare headed, carrying her hat. We found her once more adjusting turbanand veil before the mirror of Clayte's dresser. She faced around, andannounced, smiling steadily across at me, "Your man Clayte left this room while Mrs. Griggsby was kneeling almoston its threshold--left it by that window over there. He got to the roofby means of a rope and grappling hook. He tied the suitcase to the lowerend of the rope, swung it out of the window, went up hand over hand, andpulled the suitcase up after him. That's the answer I got. "

It was? Well, it was a beaut! Only Worth Gilbert, standing there givingthe proceeding respectability by careful attention and a grave face, brought me down to asking with mild jocularity, "He did? He did all that? Well, please ma'am, who locked the windowafter him?"

"He locked the window after himself. "

"Oh, say!" I began in exasperation--hadn't I just shown the impracticallittle creature that those locks couldn't be manipulated from outside?

"Wait. Examine carefully the wooden part of the upper sash, at thelock--again, " she urged, but without making any movement to help. "You'll find what we overlooked before; the way he locked the sash fromthe outside. "

I turned to the window and looked where she had said; nothing. I ran myfingers over the painted surface of the wood, outside, opposite thelatch, and a queer, chilly feeling went down my spine. I jerked out myknife, opened it and scraped at a tiny inequality. 

"There is--is something--" I was beginning, when Worth crowded in at myside and pushed his broad shoulders out the window to get a better viewof my operations, then commanded, "Let me have that knife. " He took it from my fingers, dug with itsblade, and suddenly from the inside I saw a tiny hole appear in theframe of the sash beside the lock hasp. "Here we are!" He brought hisupper half back into the room and held up a wooden plug, painted--dippedin paint--the exact color of the sash. It had concealed a hole; piercedthe wood from out to in. 

"And she saw that in her trance, " I murmured, gaping in amazement at theplug. 

I heard her catch her breath, and Worth scowled at me, "Trance? What do you mean, Boyne? She doesn't go into a trance. "

"That--that--whatever she does, " I corrected rather helplessly. 

"Never mind, Mr. Boyne, " said the girl. "It isn't clairvoyance oranything like that, however it looks. "

"But I wouldn't have believed any human eyes could have found thatthing. I discovered it only by sense of touch--and that after you toldme to hunt for it. You saw it when I was showing you the latch, didyou?"

"Oh, I didn't see it. " She shook her head. "I found it when I wassitting up there on the roof. "

"Guessed at it?"

"I never guess. " Indignantly. "When I'd cleared my mind of everythingelse--had concentrated on just the facts that bore on what I wanted toknow--how that man with the suitcase got out of the room and left itlocked behind him--I deduced the hole in the sash by elimination. "

"By elimination?" I echoed. "Show me. "

"Simple as two and two, " she assented. "Out of the door? No; Mrs. Griggsby; so out of the window. Down? No; you told why; he would beseen; so, up. Ladder? No; too big for one man to handle or to hide; so arope. "

"But the hole in the sash?"

"You showed me the only way to close that lock from the outside. Therewas no hole in the glass, so there must be in the sash. It was notvisible--you had been all over it, and a man of your profession isn't atotally untrained observer--so the hole was plugged. I hadn't seen theplug, so it was concealed by paint--"

I was trying to work a toothpick through the plughole. She offered me awire hairpin, straightened out, and with it I pushed the hasp into placefrom outside, saw the lever snap in to hold it fast. I had worked thecatch as Clayte had worked it--from outside. 

"How did you know it was _this_ window?" I asked, forced to agree thatshe had guessed right as to the sash lock. "There are two more here, either of which--"

"No, please, Mr. Boyne. Look at the angle of the roof that cuts fromview any one climbing from this window--not from the others. "

We were all leaning in the window now, sticking our heads out, lookingdown, looking up. 

"I can't yet see how you get the rope and hook, " I said. "Still seems tome that an outside man posted on the roof to help in the getaway is morelikely. "

"Maybe. I can't deal with things that are merely likely. It has to be afact--or nothing--for my use. I know that there wasn't any second manbecause of the nicks Clayte's grappling hook has left in the cornice upthere. "

"Nicks!" I said, and stood like a bound boy at a husking, without a wordto say for myself. Of course, in this impasse of the locked windows, mymen and I had had some excuse for our superficial examination of theroof. Yet that she should have seen what we had passed over--seen it outof the corner of her eye, and be laughing at me--was rather a dose toswallow. She'd got her hair and her hat and veil to her liking, and sheprompted us, "So now you want to get right down stairs--don't you--and go up throughthat other building to its roof?"

I stared. She had my plan almost before I had made it. 

At the St. Dunstan desk where I returned the keys, little Miss Wallacehad a question of her own to put to the clerk. 

"How long ago was this building reroofed?" she asked with one of herdark, softly glowing smiles. 

"Reroofed?" repeated the puzzled clerk, much more civil to her than hehad been to me. "I don't know that it ever was. Certainly not in mytime, and I've been here all of four years. "

"Not in four years? You're sure?"

"Sure of that, yes, miss. But I can find exactly. " The fellow behind thedesk was rising with an eagerness to be of service to her, when she cuthim short with, "Thank you. Four years would be exact enough for my purpose. " And shefollowed a puzzled detective and, if I may guess, an equally wonderingWorth Gilbert out into the street. 

CHAPTER VII

THE GOLD NUGGET

The neighbor to the south of the St. Dunstan was the Gold Nugget Hotel, a five story brick building and not at all pretentious as a hostelry. Iknew the place mildly, and my police training, even better than suchacquaintance as I had with this particular dump, told me what it was. Through the windows we could see guests, Sunday papers littered aboutthem, half smoked cigars in their faces, and hats which had a generaltendency to tilt over the right eye. And here suddenly I realized thedifference between Miss Barbara Wallace, a scientist's daughter, andsome feminine sleuth we might have had with us. 

"Take her back to the St. Dunstan, Worth, " I suggested. Then, as I sawthey were both going to resist, "She can't go in here. I'll wait for youif you like. "

"Don't know why we shouldn't let Bobs in on the fun, same as you and me, Jerry. " That was the way Worth put it. I took a side glance at hisattitude in this affair--that he'd bought and was enjoying an eighthundred thousand dollar frolic, offering to share it with a friend; andsaying no more, I wheeled and swung open the door for them. The man atthe desk looked at me, calling a quick, "Hello, Jerry--what's up?"

"Hello, Kite. How'd you come here?"

The Kite as a hotelman was a new one on me. Last I knew of him, he wasin the business of making book at the Emeryville track; and Isupposed--if I ever thought of him--that he'd followed the ponies southacross the border. As I stepped close to the counter, he spoke low, hislook one of puzzled and somewhat anxious inquiry. 

"Running straight, Jerry. You may ask the Chief. What can I do for you?"

Rather glad of the luck that gave me an old acquaintance to deal with, Itold him, described Clayte, Worth and Miss Wallace standing bylistening; then asked if Kite had seen him pass through the hotel goingout the previous day at some time around one o'clock, carrying a brown, sole leather suitcase. 

The readers of the Sunday papers who had been lured from their knownstandards of good manners into the sending of sundry interested glancesin the direction of our sparkling girl, took the cue from the Kite'sscowl to bury themselves for good in the voluminous sheets they held, each attending strictly to his own business, as is the etiquette ofplaces like the Gold Nugget. 

"About one o'clock, you say?" Kite muttered, frowning, twisted his headaround and called down a back passage, "Louie--Oh, Louie!" and when anoveralled porter, rather messy, shuffled to the desk, put the low tonedquery, "D'you see any stranger guy gripping a sole leather shirt-boxsnoop by out yestiddy, after one, thereabouts?" And I added theinformation, "Medium height and weight, blue eyes, light brown hair, smooth face. "

Louie looked at me dubiously. 

"How big a guy?" he asked. 

"Five feet seven or eight; weighs about hundred and forty. "

"Blue eyes you say?"

"Light blue--gray blue. "

"How was he tucked up?"

"Blue serge suit, black shoes, black derby. Neat, quiet dresser. "

Louie's eyes wandered over the guests in the office questioningly. Ibegan to feel impatient. If there was any place in the city where mydescription of Clayte would differentiate him, make him noticeable bycomparison, it was here. Neat, quiet dressers were not dotting thislobby. 

"Might be Tim Foley?" he appealed to the Kite, who nodded gravely andchewed his short mustache. "Would he have a big scar on his left cheek?"

"He would not, " I said shortly. "He wasn't a guest here, and you don'tknow him. Get this straight now: a stranger, going through here, out;about one o'clock; carried a suitcase. "

"Bulls after him?" Louie asked, and I turned away from him wearily. 

"Kite, " I said, "let me up to your roof. "

"Sure, Jerry. " Released, the porter went on to gather up a pile ofdiscarded papers. 

"Could he--the man I've described--come through here--through thisoffice and neither you nor Louie see him?" I asked. The Kite brought abox of cigars from under the counter with, "My treat, gentlemen. Naw, Jerry; sure not--not that kind of a guy. Louie'd 'a' spotted him. Most observing cuss I ever seen. "

Miss Wallace, taking all this in, seemed amused. As I turned to lead tothe elevator I found that again she wanted a question of her ownanswered. 

"Mr. Kite, " she began and I grinned; Kite wasn't the Kite's surname orany part of his name; "Who is the guest here with the upstairs room--onthe top floor--has had the same room right along--for five or sixyears--but doesn't--"

"Go easy, ma'am, please!" Kite's little eyes were popping; he draggedout a handkerchief and fumbled it around his forehead. "I've not beenhere for any five or six years--no, nor half that time. Since I've beenhere most of our custom is transient. Nobody don't keep no room five orsix years in the Gold Nugget. "

"Back up, " I smiled at his excitement. "To my certain knowledge SteveSkeels has had a room here longer than that. Hasn't he been with youever since the place was rebuilt after the earthquake?"

"Steve?" the Kite repeated. "I forgot him. Yeah--he keeps a little roomup under the roof. "

"Has he had it for as long as four years?" the young lady asked. 

"Search me, " the Kite shook his head. 

But Louie the overalled, piloting us the first stage of our journey in aracketty old elevator that he seemed to pull up by a cable, so slow itwas, grumbled an assent to the same question when it was put to him, andconfirmed my belief that Skeels came into the hotel as soon as it wasrebuilt, and had kept the same room ever since. 

Miss Wallace seemed interested in this; but all the time we were makingthe last lap, by an iron stairway, to that roof-house we had seen fromthe top of the St. Dunstan; all the time Louie was unlocking the doorthere to let us out, instructing us to be sure to relock it and bringhim the key, and to yell for him down the elevator shaft because thebell was busted, the quiet smile of Miss Barbara Wallace disturbed me. She followed where I led, but I had the irritating impression that shelooked on at my movements, and Worth's as well, with the indulgent eyeof a grown-up observing children at play. 

On the roof of the Gold Nugget we picked up the possible trail easily;Clayte hadn't needed to go through the building, or have a confederatestaked out in a room here, to make a downward getaway. For here the fireescape came all the way up, curving over the coping to anchor into thewall, and it was a good iron stairway, with landings at each floor, anda handrail the entire length, its lower end in the alley between Powelland Mason Streets. Looking at it I didn't doubt that it was used by theguests of the Gold Nugget at least half as much as the easier but moreconspicuous front entrance. Therefore a man seen on it would be no morelikely to attract attention than he would in the elevator. I explainedthis to the others, but Worth had attacked a rack of old truck piled inthe corner of the roof-house, and paid little attention to me, whileMiss Wallace nodded with her provoking smile and said, "Once--yes; no doubt you are exactly right. I wasn't looking for a waythat a man might take once, under pressure of great necessity. "

"Why not?" I countered. "If Clayte got away by this meansyesterday--that'll do me. "

"It might, " she nodded, "if you could see it as a fact, without seeing alot more. Such a man as Clayte was--a really wonderful man, you know--"the dimples were deep in the pink of her cheeks as she flashed alaughing look at me with this clawful--"a really wonderful man likeClayte, " she repeated, "wouldn't have trusted to a route he hadn't knownand proved for a long time. "

"That's theory, " I smiled. "I take my hat off to you, Miss Wallace, whenit comes to observing and deducing, but I'm afraid your theorizing isweak. "

"I never theorize, " she reminded me. "All I deal with is facts. "

She had perched herself on an overturned box, and was watching Worthsort junk. I leaned against the roof-house, pushed Kite's donated cigarunlighted into a corner of my mouth and stared at her. 

"Miss Wallace, " I said sharply, "what's this Steve Skeels stuff? What'sthis reroofing stuff? What's the dope you think you have, and you thinkI haven't? Tell us, and we'll not waste time. Tell us, and we'll getahead on this case. Worth, let that rubbish alone. Nothing there for us. Come here and listen. "

For all answer he straightened up, looked at us without a word--and wentto it again. I turned to the girl. 

"Worth doesn't need to listen to me, Mr. Boyne, " she said serenely. "Healready has full faith in me and my methods. "

"Methods be--be blowed!" I exploded. "It's results that count, andyou've produced. I'm willing to hand it to you. All we know now, we gotfrom you. Beside you I'm a thick-headed blunderer. Let me in on how youget things and I won't be so hard to convince. "

"Indeed, you aren't a blunderer, " she said warmly. "You do a lot betterthan most people at observing. " (High praise that, for a detective morethan twenty years in the business; but she meant to be complimentary. )"I'm glad to tell you my processes. How much time do you want to give toit?"

"Not a minute longer than will get what you know. " And she began with arush. 

"Those dents in the coping at the St. Dunstan, above Clayte's window--Iasked the clerk there how long since the building had been reroofed, because there were nicks made by that hook and half filled with tar thathad been slushed up against the coping and into the lowest dents. Yousee what that means?"

"That Clayte--or some accomplice of his--had been using the route morethan four years ago. Yes. "

"And the other scars were made at varying times, showing me that comingover here from there was quite a regular thing. "

"At that rate he would have nicked the coping until it would have lookedlike a huck towel, " I objected. 

"A huck towel, " she gravely adopted my word. "But he was a man that dideverything he did several different ways. That was his habit--a sort ofdisguise. That's why he was shadowy and hard to describe. Sometimes hecame up to the St. Dunstan roof just as we did; and once, a good whileago, there were cleats on that wall there so he could climb down herewithout the rope. They have been taken away some time, and the placeswhere they were are weathered over so you would hardly notice them. "

"Right you are, " I said feelingly. "I'd hardly notice them. If I couldnotice things as you do--fame and fortune for me!" I thought the matterover for a minute. "That lodger on the top floor, Steve Skeels, " Idebated. "A poor bet. Yet--after all, he might have been a member of thegang, though somehow I don't get the hunch--"

"What sort of looking person was this man Skeels?" she asked. 

"Quiet fellow. Dressed like a church deacon. 'Silent Steve' they callhim. I'll send for him down stairs and let you give him the once-over ifyou like. "

"Oh, that's not the kind of man I'm looking for. " She shook her head. "My man would be more like those down there in the easy chairs--so hewasn't noticed in the elevator or when he passed out through theoffice. "

"Wasn't it cute of him?" I grinned. "But you see we've just heard thathe didn't take the elevator and go through the office--Saturday anyhow, which is the only time that really counts for us, the time when hecarried that suitcase with a fortune in it. "

"But he did, " she persisted. "He went that way. He walked out the frontdoor and carried away the suitcase--"

"_He didn't!_" Worth shouted, and began throwing things behind him likea terrier in a wood-rat's burrow. 

Derelict stuff of all sorts; empty boxes, pasteboard cartons, part of anold trunk, he hurtled them into a heap, and dragged out a squaresomething in a gunny sack. As he jerked to clear it from the sacking, Iglanced at little Miss Wallace. She wasn't getting any pleasureable kickout of the situation. Her eyes seemed to go wider open with a sort ofhorror, her face paled as she drooped in on herself, sitting there onthe box. Then Worth held up his find in triumph, assuming a famousattitude. 

"The world is mine!" he cried. 

"Maybe 'tis, maybe 'tisn't, " I said as I ran across to look at the thingclose. Sure enough, he'd dug up a respectable brown, sole leathersuitcase with brass trimmings such as a bank clerk might have carried, suspiciously much too good to have been thrown out here. Could it bethat the thieves had indeed met in one of the Gold Nugget's rooms or inthe roof-house up here, made their divvy, split the swag, and thusclumsily disposed of the container? At the moment, Worth tore bucklesand latches free, yanked the thing open, reversed it in air--and outfell a coiled rope that curved itself like a snake--a three-headedsnake; the triple grappling iron at its end standing up as though tohiss. 

We all stood staring; I was too stunned to be triumphant. What a patconfirmation of Miss Wallace's deductions! I turned to congratulate herand at the same instant Worth cried, "What's the matter, Bobs?" for the girl was sitting, staring dejectedly, her chin cupped in her palms, her lips quivering. Nonplussed, I stoopedover the suitcase and rope, coiling up the one, putting it in theother--this first bit of tangible, palpable evidence we'd lighted on. 

"Let's get out of this, " I said quickly. "We've done all we canhere--and good and plenty it is, too. "

Worth took the suitcase out of my hands and carried it, so that I had tohelp Miss Wallace down the ladder. She still looked as though she'd losther last friend. I couldn't make her out. Never a word from her while wewere getting down, or while they waited and I shouted for Louie. It wasin the elevator, with the porter looking at everything on earth but thissuitcase we hadn't brought in and we were taking out, that she said, hardly above her breath, "Shall you ask at the desk if this ever belonged to any one in thehouse?"

"Find out here--right now, " and I turned to the man in overalls with, "How about it?"

"Not that your answer will make any difference, " Worth cut in joyously. "Nobody need get the idea that they can take this suitcase away fromme--'cause they can't. It's mine. I paid eight hundred thousand dollarsfor this box; and I've got a use for it. " He chuckled. Louie regardedhim with uncomprehending toleration--queer doings were the order of theday at the Gold Nugget--and allowed negligently. 

"You'll get to keep it. It don't belong here. " Then, as a coin changedhands, "Thank _you_. "

"But didn't it ever belong here?" our girl persisted forlornly, and whenLouie failed her, jingling Worth's tip in his calloused palm, she wantedthe women asked, and we had a frowsy chambermaid called who denied anyacquaintance with our sole leather discovery, insisting, upon definiteinquiry, that she had never seen it in Skeels' room, or any other roomof her domain. Little Miss Wallace sighed and dropped the subject. 

As we stepped out of the elevator, I behind the others, Kite caught myattention with a low whistle, and in response to a furtive, beckoning, backward jerk of his head, I moved over to the desk. The readinggentlemen in the easy chairs, most consciously unconscious of us, sentblue smoke circles above their papers. Kite leaned far over to get hismustache closer to my ear. 

"You ast me about Steve, " he whispered. 

"Yeah, " I agreed, and looked around for Barbara, to tell her here washer chance to meet the gentleman she had so cleverly deduced. But sheand Worth were already getting through the door, he still clinging tothe suitcase, she trailing along with that expression of defeat. "I'msort of looking up Steve. And you don't want to tip him off--see?"

"Couldn't if I wanted to, Jerry, " the Kite came down on his heels, butcontinued to whisper hoarsely. "Steve's bolted. "

"What?"

"Bolted, " the Kite repeated. "Hopped the twig. Jumped the town. "

"You mean he's not in his room?" I reached for a match in the metalholder, scratched it, and lit my cigar. 

"I mean he's jumped the town, " Kite repeated. "You got me nervous askingfor him that way. While you was on the roof, I took a squint around andfound he was gone--with his hand baggage. That means he's gone outatown. "

"Not if the suitcase you squinted for was a brown sole leather--" I wasbeginning, but the Kite cut in on me. 

"I seen that one you had. That wasn't it. His was a brand new one, blackand shiny. "

Suddenly I couldn't taste my cigar at all. 

"Know what time to-day he left here?" I asked. 

"It wasn't to-day. 'Twas yestiddy. About one o'clock. "

As I plunged for the door I was conscious of his hoarse whisperfollowing me, "What's Steve done, Jerry? What d'ye want him for?"

I catapulted across the sidewalk and into the machine. 

"Get me to my office as fast as you can, Worth, " I exclaimed. "Hit BushStreet--and rush it. "

CHAPTER VIII

A TIN-HORN GAMBLER

After we were in the machine, my head was so full of the matter in handthat Worth had driven some little distance before I realized that theyoung people were debating across me as to which place we went first, Barbara complaining that she was hungry, while Worth ungallantly eagerto give his own affairs immediate attention, argued, "You said the dining-room out at your diggings would be closed by thistime. Why not let me take you down to the Palace, along with Jerry, havethis suitcase safely locked up, and we can all lunch together and getahead with our talk. "

"Drive to the office, Worth, " I cut in ahead of Barbara's objections tothis plan. "I ought to be there this minute. We'll have a tray in from alittle joint that feeds me when I'm too busy to go out for grub. "

I took them straight into my private office at the end of the suite. 

"Make yourself comfortable, " I said to Miss Wallace. "Better let me lockup that suitcase, Worth; stick it in the vault. That's evidence. "

"I'll hang on to it. " He grinned. "You can keep the rope and hook. Thishas got another use before it can be evidence. "

Not even delaying to remove my coat, I laid a heavy finger on thebuzzer button for Roberts, my secretary; then as nothing resulted, Iplayed music on the other signal tips beneath the desk lid. It wasSunday, also luncheon hour, but there must be some one about the place. It never was left entirely empty. 

My fugue work brought little Pete, and Murray, one of the men from theoperatives' room. 

"Where's Roberts?" I asked the latter. 

"He went to lunch, Mr. Boyne. "

"Where's Foster?" Foster was chief operative. 

"He telephoned in from Redwood City half an hour ago. Chasing a Clayteclue down the peninsula. "

"If he calls up again, tell him to report in at once. Is there astenographer about?"

"Not a one; Sunday, you know. "

"Can you take dictation?"

"Me? Why, no, sir. "

"Then dig me somebody who can. And rush it. I've--"

"Perhaps I might help. " It was little Miss Wallace who spoke; about thefirst cheerful word I'd heard out of her since we found that suitcase onthe roof of the Gold Nugget. "I can take on the machine fairly. "

"Fine!" I tossed my coat on the big center table. "Murray, send Robertsto me as soon as he comes in. You take number two trunk line, and findtwo of the staff--quick; any two. Shoot them to the Gold Nugget Hotel. "I explained the situation in a word. Then, as he was closing the door, "Keep off Number One trunk, Murray; I'll be using that line, " and Iturned to little Pete. 

"Get lunch for three, " I said, handing him a bill. From his first glanceat Barbara one could have seen that the monkey was hers truly, as theysay at the end of letters. I knew as he bolted out that he feltsomething very special ought to be dug up for such a visitor. 

The girl had shed coat and hat and was already fingering the keys of thetypewriter, trying their touch. I saw at once she knew her business, andI turned to the work at hand with satisfaction. 

"You'll find telegram blanks there somewhere, " I instructed. "Get asmany in for manifold copies as you can make readable. The long form. Worth--"

I looked around to find that my other amateur assistant was following myadvice, stowing his precious suitcase in the vault; and it struck methat he couldn't have been more tickled with the find if the thing hadcontained all the money and securities instead of that rope and hook. Hehad made the latter into a separate package, and now looked up at mewith, "Want this in here, too, Jerry?"

"I do. Lock them both up, and come take the telephone at the tablethere. Press down Number One button. Then call every taxi stand in thecity (find their numbers at the back of the telephone directory) and askif they picked up Silent Steve at or near the Gold Nugget yesterdayafternoon about one; Steve Skeels--or any other man. If so, where'd theytake him? Get me?"

"All hunk, Jerry. " He came briskly to the job. I returned to MissWallace, with, "Ready, Barbara?"

"Yes, Mr. Boyne. "

"Take dictation:

"'We offer five hundred dollars--' You authorize that, Worth?"

"Sure. What's it for?"

"Never mind. You keep at your job. 'Five hundred dollars for the arrestof Silent Steve Skeels--' Wait. Make that 'arrest or detention, ' Gotit?"

"All right, Mr. Boyne. "

--"'Skeels, gambler, who left San Francisco about one in the afternoonyesterday March sixth. Presumed he went by train; maybe by auto. He isman thirty-eight to forty; five feet seven or eight; weighs about onehundred forty. Hair, light brown; eyes light blue--' Make it gray-blue, Barbara. "

Worth glanced up from where he was jotting down telephone numbers todrawl, "You know who you're describing there?"

"Yes--Steve Skeels. "

I saw Miss Wallace give him a quick look, a little shake of her head, asshe said to me. 

"Go on--please, Mr. Boyne. "

"'Hair parted high, smoothed down; appears of slight build but is wellmuscled. Neat dresser, quiet, usually wears blue serge suit, black derbyhat, black shoes. '"

"By Golly--you see it now yourself, don't you, Jerry?"

"I see that you're holding up work, " I said impatiently. And now it wasthe quiet girl who came in with. 

"Who gave you this description of Steve Skeels? I mean, how manypeople's observation of the man does this represent?"

"One. My own, " I jerked out. "I know Skeels; have known him for years. "

"Years? How many?" It was still the girl asking. 

"Since 1907--or thereabouts. "

"Was he always a gambler?" she wanted to know. 

"Always. Ran a joint on Fillmore Street after the big earthquake, andbefore San Francisco came back down-town. "

"A gambler, " she spoke the word just above her breath, as though tryingit out with herself. "A man who took big chances--risks. "

"Not Steve, " I smiled at her earnestness. "Steve was a piker always--atin-horn gambler. Hid away from the police instead of doing businesswith them. Take a chance? Not Steve. "

Worth had left the telephone and was leaning over her shoulder to readwhat she had typed. 

"Exactly and precisely, " he said, "the same words you had in that otherfool description of him. "

"Of whom?"

"Clayte. "

Worth let me have the one word straight between the eyes, and I leanedback in my chair, the breath almost knocked out of me by it. By aneffort I pulled myself together and turned to the girl:

"Take dictation, please: Skeel's eyes are wide apart, rather small butkeen--"

And for the next few minutes I was making words mean something, drawinga picture of the Skeels I knew, so that others could visualize him. Andit brought me a word of commendation from Miss Wallace, and made Worthexclaim, "Sounds more like Clayte than Clayte himself. You've put flesh on thosebones, Jerry. "

"You keep busy at that phone and help land him, " I growled. "Finish, please: 'Wire information to me. I hold warrant. Jeremiah Boyne, Bankers' Security Agency, ' That's all. "

The girl pulled the sheets from the machine and sorted them while I wasstabbing the buzzer. Roberts answered, breezing in with an apology whichI nipped. 

"Never mind that. Get this telegram on the wires to each of ourcorresponding agencies as far east as Spokane, Ogden and Denver. HasMurray got in touch with Foster?"

"Not yet. Young and Stroud are outside. "

"Send them to bring in Steve Skeels, " I ordered. "Description on thetelegram there. Any word, Worth?"

"Nothing yet. " Worth was calling one after another of the taxi offices. Little Pete came in with a tray. 

"All right, Worth, " I said. "Turn that job over to Roberts. Here's wherewe eat. "

The kid's idea of catering for Barbara was club sandwiches and pie à lamode. It wouldn't have been mine; but I was glad to note that he'dguessed right. The youngsters fell to with appetite. For myself, I ate, the receiver at my ear, talking between bites. San Jose, Stockton, SantaRosa--in all the nearby towns of size, I placed the drag-net out forSilent Steve, tin-horn gambler. 

They talked as they lunched. I didn't pay any attention to what theysaid now; my mind was racing at the new idea Worth had given me. So far, I had been running Skeels down as one of the same gang with Clayte; theman on the roof; the go-between for the getaway. My supposition was thatwhen the suitcase was emptied for division, Skeels, being left todispose of the container, had stuck it where we found it. But what ifthe thing worked another way? What if all the money--almost a roundmillion--which came to the Gold Nugget roof in the brown sole-leathercase, walked out of its front door in the new black shiny carrier ofSkeels the gambler?

Could that be worked? A gambler at night, a bank employee by day? Whynot? Improbable. But not impossible. 

"I believe you said a mouthful, Worth, " I broke in on the two at theirlunch. "And tell me, girl, how did you get the idea of walking up to thedesk at the Gold Nugget and demanding Steve Skeels from the Kite?"

"I didn't demand Steve Skeels, " she reminded me rather plaintively. "Ididn't want--him. "

"What did you want?"

"A room that had been lived in. "

She didn't need to add a word to that. I got her in the instant. Thatexamination of hers in Clayte's room at the St. Dunstan; the crisp, new-looking bedding, the unworn velvet of the chair cushions; the fadednap of the carpet, quite perfect, while that in the hall had just beenrenewed. Even had the room been done over recently--and I knew it hadnot--there was no getting around the total absence of photographs, pictures, books, magazines, newspapers, old letters, the lack of allthe half worn stuff that collects about an occupied apartment. Nopinholes or defacements on the walls, none of the litter thataccumulates. The girl was right; that room hadn't been lived in. 

"Beautiful, " I said in honest admiration. "It's a pleasure to see a mindlike yours, and such powers of observation, in action, clicking outresults like a perfectly adjusted machine. Clayte didn't live in hisroom because he lived with the gang all his glorious outside hours. There was where the poor rabbit of a bank clerk got his fling. "

"Oh, yes, it works logically. He held himself down to Clayte at the St. Dunstan and in the bank, and he let himself go to--what?--outside of it, beyond it, where he really lived. "

"He let himself go to Steve Skeels--won't that do you?"

"No, " she said so positively that it was annoying. "That won't do me atall. "

"But it's what you got, " I reminded her rather unkindly, and then wassorry I'd done it. "It's what you got for me--and I thank you for it. "

"You needn't, " she came back at me--spunky little thing. "It isn't worththanking anybody for. It's only a partial fact. "

"And you think half truths are dangerous?" I smiled at her. 

"There isn't any such thing, " she instructed me. "Even _facts_ canhardly be split into fractions; while the truth is always whole andcomplete. "

"As far as you see it, " I amended. "For instance, you insist on keepingthe gang all under Clayte's hat--or you did at first. Now you'rerefusing to believe, as both Worth and I believe, that Steve Skeels isClayte himself. I should think you'd jump at the idea. Here's yourWonder Man. "

She leaned back in her chair and laughed. I was glad to hear the soundagain, see the dimples flicker in her cheeks, even if she was laughingat me. 

"A wonderful Wonder Man, Mr. Boyne, " she said. "One who does things sobunglingly that you can follow him right up and put your hand on him. "

"Not so I could, " I reminded her gaily. "So you could. Quite a differentmatter. " She took my compliment sweetly, but she said with smilingreluctance, "I'm not in this, of course, except that your kindness allowed me to befor this day only. But if I were, I shouldn't be following Skeels as youare. I'd still be after Clayte. "

"It foots up to the same thing, " I said rather tartly. 

"Oh, does it?" she laughed at me. "Two and two are making about threeand a half this afternoon, are they?"

"What we've got to-day ought to land something, " I maintained. "You'vebeen fine help, Barbara--" and I broke off suddenly with the knowledgethat I'd been calling her that all through the rush of the work. 

"Thank you. " She smiled inclusively. I knew she meant my use of her nameas well as my commendation. I began clearing my desk preparatory toleaving. Worth was going to take her home and as he brought her coat, hespoke again of the suitcase. 

"Hey, there!" I remonstrated, "You don't want to be lugging that thingwith you everywhere, like a three-year-old kid that's found a dead cat. Leave it where it is. "

"Give me an order for it then, " he said. And when I looked surprised, "Might need that box, and you not be in the office. "

"Need it?" I grumbled. "I'd like to know what for. "

But I scribbled the order. Over by the window the young people weretalking together earnestly; they made a picture against the light, standing close, the girl's vivid dark face raised, the lad's tall headbent, attentive. 

"But, Bobs, you must get some time to play about, " I heard Worth say. 

"Awfully little, " Her look up at him was like that of a wistful child. 

"You said you were in the accounting department, " he urged impatiently. "A lightning calculator like you could put that stuff through in aboutone tenth of the usual time. "

"I use an adding machine, " she half whispered, and it made me chuckle. 

"An adding machine!" Worth exploded in a peal of laughter. "For BarbaraWallace! What's their idea?"

"It isn't their idea; it's mine, " with dignity. "They don't know that Iused to be a freak mathematician. I don't want them to. Father used tosay that all children could be trained to do all that I did--if you tookthem young enough. But till they are, I'd rather not be. It's horrid tobe different; and I'm keeping it to myself--in the office anyhow--andliving my past down the best I can. "

As though her words had suggested it, Worth spoke again, "Where did you meet Cummings? Seems you find time to go out with him. "

"I've known Mr. Cummings for years, " Barbara spoke quietly, but shelooked self-conscious. "I knew he was with those friends of mine at theOrpheum last night, but I didn't expect him to call for me at Tait's--orrather I thought they'd all come in after me. There wasn't anythingspecial about it--no special appointment with him, I mean. "

I had forgotten them for a minute or two, closing my desk, finding mycoat, when I heard some one come into the outer office, a visitor, forlittle Pete's voice went up to a shrill yap with the information that Iwas busy. Then the knob turned, the door opened, and there stoodCummings. At first he saw only me at the desk. 

"Your friend calling for you again, Bobs--by appointment?" Worth'squestion drew the lawyer's glance, and he stared at them apparently agood deal taken aback, while Worth added, "Seems to keep pretty closetab on your movements. " The low tone might have been considered joking, but there was war in the boy's eye. 

It was as though Cummings answered the challenge, rather than openedwith what he had intended. 

"My business is with you, Gilbert. " He came in and shut the door behindhim, leaving his hand on the knob. "And I've been some time findingyou. " He stopped there, and was so long about getting anything else outthat Worth finally suggested, "The money?" And when there was no reply but a surprised look, "How doyou stand now?"

"Still seventy-two thousand to raise. " Cummings spoke vaguely. This wasnot what had brought him to the office. He finished with the abruptquestion, "Were you at Santa Ysobel last night?"

"Hold on, Cummings, " I broke in. "What you got? Let us--"

I was shut off there by Worth's, "It's Sunday afternoon. I want that money to-morrow morning. You've notcome through? You've not dug up what I sent you after?"

I could see that the lawyer was absolutely nonplussed. Again he gaveWorth one of those queer, probing looks before he said doggedly, "The question of that money can wait. "

"It can't wait. " Worth's eyes began to light up. "What you talking, Cummings--an extension?" And when the lawyer made no answer to this, "I'll not crawl in with a broken leg asking favors of that bank crowd. Are you quitting on me? If so, say it--and I'll find a way to raise thesum, myself. "

"I've raised all but seventy-two thousand of the necessary amount, " saidCummings slowly. "What I want to know is--how much have you raised?"

"See here, Cummings, " again I mixed in. "I was present when thatarrangement was made. Nothing was said about Worth raising any money. "

Cummings barely glanced around at me as he said, "I made a suggestion tohim; in your presence, as you say, Boyne. I want to know if he carriedit out. " Then, giving his full attention to Worth, "Did you see yourfather last night?"

On instinct I blurted, "For heaven's sake, keep your mouth shut, Worth!"

For a detective that certainly was an incautious speech. Cummings' eyeflared suspicion at me, and his voice was a menace. 

"You keep out of this, Boyne. "

"You tell what's up your sleeve, Cummings, " I countered. "This is nowitness-stand cross-examination. What you got?"

But Worth answered for him, hotly, "If Cummings hasn't seventy-two thousand dollars I commissioned him toraise for me, I don't care what he's got. "

"And you didn't go to your father for it last night?" Cummings returnedto his question. He had moved close to the boy. Barbara stood just whereshe was when the door opened. Neither paid any attention to her. But shelooked at the two men, drawn up with glances clinched, and spoke outsuddenly in her clear young voice, as though there was no row on hand, "Worth was with me last night, you know, Mr. Cummings. "

"I seem to have noticed something of the sort, " Cummings said withlabored sarcasm. "And he'd been with that wedding party earlier in theevening, I suppose. "

"With me till Miss Wallace came in. " Worth's natural disposition todisoblige the lawyer could be depended on to keep from Cummings whateverinformation he wanted before giving us his own news. "What you got, Cummings?" I prompted again, impatiently. "Come through. "

His eyes never shifted an instant from Worth Gilbert's face. 

"A telegram--from Santa Ysobel, " he said slowly. 

Worth shrugged and half turned away. 

"I'm not interested in your telegram, Cummings. "

Instantly I saw what the boy thought: that the other had taken it onhimself to apply for the money to Thomas Gilbert, and had been turneddown. 

"Not interested?" Cummings repeated in that dry, lawyer voice thatspeaks from the teeth out; on the mere tone, I braced for somethingnasty. "I think you are. My telegram's from the coroner. "

Silence after that; Worth obstinately mute; Barbara and I afraid to ask. There was a little tremor of Cummings' nostril, he couldn't keep theflicker out of his eye, as he said, staring straight at Worth, "It states that your father shot himself last night. The body wasn'tdiscovered till late this morning, in his study. "

CHAPTER IX

SANTA YSOBEL

Of all unexpected things. I went down to Santa Ysobel with WorthGilbert. It happened this way: Cummings, one of those individuals onwhose tombstone may truthfully be put, "Born a man--and died a lawyer, "seemed rather taken aback at the effect of the blow he'd launched. If hewas after information, I can't think he learned much in the moment whileWorth stood regarding him with an unreadable eye. 

There was only a little grimmer tightening of the jaw muscle, somethingbleak and robbed in the glance of the eye; the face of one, it seemed tome, who grieved the more because he was denied real sorrow for his loss, and Worth had tramped to the window and stood with his back to us, putting the thing over in his silent, fighting fashion, speaking to noneof us. It was when Barbara followed, took hold of his sleeve and beganhalf whispering up into his face that Cummings jerked his hat from thetable where he had thrown it, and snapped, "Boyne--can I have a few minutes of your time?"

"Jerry, " Worth's voice halted me at the door, "Leave that card--anorder--for me. For the suitcase. "

Cummings was ahead of me, and he turned back to listen, but I crowdedhim along and was pretty hot when I faced him in the outer office todemand, "What kind of a deal do you call this--ripping in here to throw thisthing at the boy in such a way? What is your idea? What you trying toput over?"

"Go easy, Boyne. " Cummings chewed his words a little before he let themout. "There's something queer in this business. I intend to know what itis. "

"Queer, " I repeated his word. "If the lawyers and the detectives get torunning down all the queer things--that don't concern them a littlebit--the world won't have any more peace. "

"All right, if you say it doesn't concern you, " Cummings threw meoverboard with relief I thought. "It does concern me. When I couldn'tget--him"--a jerk of the head indicated that the pronoun stood forWorth--"at the Palace, found he'd been out all day and left no word atthe desk when he expected to be in, I took my telegram to Knapp, andthen to Whipple. They were flabbergasted. "

"The bank crowd, " I said. "Now why did you run to them? On account ofWorth's engagement with them to-morrow morning? Wasn't that exceedingyour orders? You saw that he intends to meet it, in spite of this. "

"Why not because of this?" Cummings demanded sharply. "He's in bettershape to meet it now his father's dead. He's the only heir. That's thefirst thing Knapp and Whipple spoke of--and I saw them separately. "

"Can that stuff. What do you think you're hinting at?"

"Something queer, " he repeated his phrase. "Wake up, Boyne. Knapp andWhipple both saw Thomas Gilbert a little before noon yesterday. He wasin the bank for the final transfer of the Hanford interests. They'd assoon have thought of my committing suicide that night--or you doing it. They swear there was nothing in his manner or bearing to suggest such astate of mind, and everything in the business he was engaged on tosuggest that he expected to live out his days like any man. "

I thought very little of this; it is common in cases of suicide forfamily, friends or business associates to talk in exactly this way, tobelieve it, and yet for the deep-seated moving cause to be easilydiscovered by an unprejudiced outsider. I said as much to Cummings. Andwhile I spoke, we could hear a murmur of young voices from the innerroom. 

"Damn it all, " the lawyer's irritation spurted out suddenly, "With a cublike that for a son, I'd say the reason wasn't far to seek. Better keepyour eye peeled round that young man, Boyne. "

"I will, " I agreed, and he took his departure. I turned back into theprivate room. 

"Worth"--I put it quietly--"what say I go to Santa Ysobel with you? Youcould bring me back Monday morning. "

He agreed at once, silently, but thankfully I thought. 

Barbara, listening, proposed half timidly to go with us, staying thenight at the Thornhill place, being brought back before work timeMonday, and was accepted simply. So it came that when we had a blow-outas the crown of a dozen other petty disasters which had delayed ourprogress toward Santa Ysobel, and found our spare tire flat, Barbarajumped down beside Worth where he stood dragging out the pump, andstopped him, suggesting that we save time by running the last few mileson the rim and getting fixed up at Capehart's garage. He climbed inwithout a word, and drove on toward where Santa Ysobel lies at the headof its broad valley, surrounded by the apricot, peach and prune orchardsthat are its wealth. 

We came into the fringes of the town in the obscurity of approachingnight; a thick tulle fog had blown down on the north wind. The littlefoot-hill city was all drowned in it; tree-tops, roofs, the gable endsof houses, the illuminated dial of the town clock on the city hall, sticking up from the blur like things seen in a dream. As we headed fora garage with the name Capehart on it, we heard, soft, muffled, sevenstrokes from the tower. 

"Getting in late, " Worth said absently. "Bill still keeps the oldplace?"

"Yes. Just the same, " Barbara said. "He married our Sarah, you know--wasthat before you went away? Of course not, " and added for myenlightenment, "Sarah Gibbs was father's housekeeper for years. Shebrought me up. "

We drove into the big, dimly lighted building; there came to us from itscorner office what might have been described as a wide man, notespecially imposing in breadth, but with a sort of loose-jointedeffectiveness to his movements, and a pair of roving, yellowish-hazeleyes in his broad, good-humored face, mighty observing I'd say, in spiteof the lazy roll of his glance. 

"Been stepping on tacks, Mister?" he hailed, having looked at the tiresbefore he took stock of the human freight. 

"Hello, Bill, " Worth was singing out. "Give me another machine--or getour spare filled and on--whichever's quickest. I want to make it to thehouse as soon as I can. "

"Lord, boy!" The wide man began wiping a big paw before offering it. "I'm glad to see you. "

They shook hands. Worth repeated his request, but the garage man wasalready unbuckling the spare, going to the work with a brisk efficiencythat contradicted his appearance. 

Barbara sitting quietly beside me, we heard them talking at the back ofthe machine, as the jack quickly lifted us and Worth went to it withCapehart to unbolt the rim; a low-toned steady stream from the wide man, punctuated now and then by a word from Worth. 

"Yeh, " Capehart grunted, prying off the tire. "Heard it m'self 'boutnoon--or a little after. Yeh, Ward's Undertaking Parlors. "

"Undertaking parlors!" Worth echoed. Capehart, hammering on the spare, agreed. 

"Nobody in town that knowed what to do about it; so the coroner tooka-holt, I guess, and kinda fixed it to suit hisself. Did you phone aheadto see how things was out to the house?"

"Tried to, " Worth said. "The operator couldn't raise it. "

"Course not. " Capehart was coupling on the air. "Your chink's off everySunday--has the whole day--and the Devil only could guess where aChinaman'd go when he ain't working. Eddie Hughes ought to be on the jobout there--but would he?"

"Father still kept Eddie?"

"Yeh. " The click of the jack and the car was lowering. "Eddie's lastedlonger than I looked to see him. Due to be fired any time this pastyear. Been chasing over 'crost the tracks. Got him a girl there, one ofthese cannery girls. Well, she's sort of married, I guess, but thatdon't stop Eddie. 'F I see him, I'll tell him you want him. "

They came to the front of the machine; Worth thrust his hand in hispocket. Capehart checked him with, "Let it go on the bill. " Then, as Worth swung into his seat, Barbarabent forward from behind my shoulder, the careless yellowish eyes thatsaw everything got a fair view of her, and with a sort of subdued crow, "Look who's here!" Capehart took hold of the upright to lean his squareform in and say earnestly, "While you're in Santa Ysobel, don't forgetthat we got a spare room at our house. "

"Next time, " Barbara raised her voice to top the hum of the engine. "I'monly here for over night, now, and I'm going down to Mrs. Thornhill's. "

We were out in the street once more, leaving the cannery district on ourright, tucked away to itself across the railroad tracks, running on MainStreet to City Hall Square, where we struck into Broad, followed it outpast the churches and to that length of it that held the fine homes intheir beautiful grounds, getting close at last to where town melts againinto orchards. The road between its rows of fernlike pepper trees was awet gleam before us, all black and silver; the arc lights made big mistyblurs without much illumination as we came to the Thornhill place. Worthgot down and, though she told him he needn't bother, took her in to thegate. For a minute I waited, getting the bulk of the big frame houseback among the trees, with a single light twinkling from an upper storywindow; then Worth flung into the car and we speeded on, skirting a longfrontage of lawns, beautifully kept, pearly with the fog, set off withartfully grouped shrubbery and winding walks. There was no barrier but alow stone coping; the drive to the Gilbert place went in on the sidefarthest from the Thornhill's. We ran in under a carriage porch. Thehouse was black. 

"See if I can raise anybody, " said Worth as he jumped to the ground. "Let you in, and then I'll run the roadster around to the garage. "

But the house was so tightly locked up that he had finally to break inthrough a pantry window. I was out in front when he made it, and saw thelights begin to flash up, the porch lamp flooding me with a sudden glarebefore he threw the door open. 

"Cold as a vault in here. "

He twisted his broad shoulders in a shudder, and I looked about me. Itwas a big entrance hall, with a wide stairway. There on the hat treehung a man's light overcoat, a gray fedora hat; a stick leaned below. When the master of the house went out of it this time, he hadn't neededthese. Abruptly Worth turned and led the way into what I knew was theliving room, with a big open fireplace in it. 

"Make yourself as comfortable as you can, Jerry. I'll get a blaze herein two shakes. I suppose you're hungry as a wolf--I am. This is a hellof a place I've brought you into. "

"Forget it, " I returned. "I can look after myself. I'm used to rustling. Let me make that fire. "

"All right. " He gave up his place on the hearth to me, straightenedhimself and stood a minute, saying, "I'll raid the kitchen. Chung's sureto have plenty of food cooked. He may not be back here before midnight. "

"Midnight?" I echoed. "Is that usual?"

"Used to be. Chung's been with father a long time. Good chink. Alwaysgiven his whole Sunday, and if he was on hand to get Monday'sbreakfast--no questions. "

"Left last night, you think?"

Worth shot me a glance of understanding. 

"Sometimes he would--after cleaning up from dinner. But he wouldn't haveheard the shot, if that's what you're driving at. "

He left me, going out through the hall. My fire burned. I thawed out thekinks the long, chill ride had put in me. Then Worth hailed; I went outand found him with a coffee-pot boiling on the gas range, a loaf and acold roast set out. He had sand, that boy; in this wretched home-coming, his manner was neither stricken nor defiant. He seemed only a littlegraver than usual as he waited on me, hunting up stuff in places he knewof to put some variety into our supper. 

Where I sat I faced a back window, and my eye was caught by theappearance of a strange light, quite a little distance from the house, apparently in another building, but showing as a vague glow on the fog. 

"What's down there?" I asked. Worth answered without taking the troubleto lean forward and look, "The garage--and the study. "

"Huh? The study's separate from the house?" I had been thinking of thesuicide as a thing of this dwelling, an affair in some room within itswalls. Of course Chung would not hear the shot. "Who's down there?"

"Eddie Hughes has a room off the garage. "

"He's in it now. "

"How do you know?" he asked quickly. 

"There's a light--or there was. It's gone now. "

"That wouldn't have been Eddie, " Worth said. "His room's on the otherside, toward the back street. What you saw was the light from thesewindows shining on the fog. Makes queer effects sometimes. "

I knew that wasn't it, but I didn't argue with him, only remarked, "I'd like to have a look at that place, Worth, if you don't mind. "

CHAPTER X

A SHADOW IN THE FOG

Again I saw that glow from the Gilbert garage, hanging on the fog; aluminosity of the fog; saw it disappear as the mist deepened andshrouded it. But Worth was answering me, and somehow his words seemedforced;

"Sit tight a minute, Jerry. Have another cup of coffee while Itelephone, then I'll put the roadster in and open up down there. I'llcall you--or you can see my lights. "

He left me. I heard him at the instrument in the hall get his number, talk to some one in a low voice, and then go out the front door; nextthing was the sound of the motor, the glare of its lamps as it roundedinto the driveway and started down back, illuminating everything. In thegeneral glare thrown on the fog, the fainter light was invisible, butacross a plot of kitchen garden I saw where it had been; a square, squatbuilding of concrete, flat roofed, vining plants in boxes drooping overits cornice; the typical garage of such an establishment, but nearlydouble the usual size. The light had come from there, but how? In theshort time that the lamps of the machine were showing it up to me, thereseemed no windows on this side; only the double doors for the car'sentrance--closed now--and a single door which was crossed by two heavy, barricading planks nailed in the form of a great X. 

Worth ran the machine close up against the doors, jumped down, and Icould see his tall form, blurred by the mist, moving about to slide themopen. The lamps of the roadster made little showing now as he rolled itin. Then these were switched off and everything down there was dark as apocket. For a time I sat and waited for him to light up and call me, then started down. The fog was making the kind of dimness that has acurious, illusory character. I suppose I had gone half the distance ofthe garden walk, when, thrown up startlingly on the obscurity, I saw asquare of white, and across that shining screen, moved the silhouette ofa human head. The whole thing danced before my eyes for a bare second, then blackness. 

With Cummings' queer hints in my mind, I started running across thegarden toward it. About the first thing I did was step into a coldframe, plunging my foot through the glass, all but going to my knees init; and when I got up, swearing, I was turned around, ran into bushes, tripped over obstructions, and traveled, I think, in a circle. 

Then I began to go more cautiously. No use getting excited. That wasonly Worth I had seen. And still I was unwilling to call, ask him toshow a light. I groped along until my outstretched fingers came acrossthe corner of a building, rough, stonelike--the concrete garage andstudy. I felt along, seeing a bit now, and was soon passing my handsover the barricading planks of that door. 

I might have lit a match, but I preferred to find out what I could byfeeling around, and that cautiously. I discovered that the door had beenbroken in, the top panels shattered to kindling wood, the force of theassault having burst a hinge, so that the whole thing sagged drunkenlybehind the heavy planks that propped it, while a strong bolt, quiteuseless, was still clamped into a socket which had been torn, screws andall, from the inside casing. 

Sliding my hands over the broken top panel I found that it had beencovered on its inner side by a piece of canvas; the screen on which thatshadow had been thrown--from within the room. There was no light therenow; there was no sound of motion within. The drip of the fog from theeaves was the only break in the stillness. 

"Worth?" I shouted, at last, and he answered me instantly, hallooingfrom behind me, and to one side of the house. I could hear him runningand when he spoke it was close to my shoulder. 

"Where are you, Jerry?"

"Where are you, " I countered. "Or rather, where have you been?"

"Getting a bar to pry off these boards. "

"A bar?" I echoed stupidly. 

"A crowbar from the shed. These planks will have to come off to let usin. "

"The devil you say!" I was exasperated. "There's some one in herenow--or was a minute back. Show me the other way in. "

I heard the ring of the steel bar as its end hit the hard graveled path. 

"Some one in there? Jerry, you're seeing things. "

"Sure I am, " I agreed drily. "But you get me to that other door quick!"

"The only other door is locked. I tried it from the garage. You'redreaming. "

For reply, I ran up to the door and thrust my fist through the canvas, ripping it away from its clumsy tacking. 

"Who's in there?" I cried. "Answer me!"

Dead silence; then a click as Worth snapped on a flood of light from hispocket torch, saying tolerantly, tiredly, "I told you there was no one. There couldn't be. "

"I tell you, Worth, there was. I saw the shadow on the square of thatcanvas. Give me the torch. "

I pushed the flashlight through the opening and played the light coneabout the room in a quick survey; then brought the circle of white glowto rest upon one of the side walls; and my hand went down and back togrip fingers about the butt of my revolver. There was, as Worth hadsaid, but one other door to this room; but more, there was apparently noother exit; no windows, no breaks in the walls. My circle of light wason this second door; and the very heart of that circle was a heavy steelbolt on the door, the bar of which was firmly shot into the socket onthe frame. The only exit from that room, other than the door throughwhich I now leaned with pistol raised, was locked--bolted from theinside!

Worth was crowding his big frame into the opening beside me. 

"Keep back, " I growled. "Some one's inside, " and I sent the light shaftinto corners to drive out the shadows, to cut in under the desk andchairs. Worth's reply was a laugh, and his arm went by me to reachinside the door. Then, as his fingers found the button, a light sprangout from a lamp upon the center desk. 

"You're letting your nerves play the deuce with you, Jerry, " he saidlightly. "Make way for my crowbar and we'll get in out of the wet. "

I made no answer, but for a long moment more I searched that room withmy eyes; but it was the kind you see all over at a glance. Big, square, plain, it hadn't a window in it; the walls, lined with book shelves, floor to ceiling; a fireplace; a library table with drawers; a fewchairs. No chance for a hideout. I glanced at the ceiling and confirmedthe evidence of my eyes. There was a skylight, and through it had comethat curious glow that first attracted my attention to the place. 

Then I gave Worth room to wield his tools on the barred door, while Iran quickly back to the house, into the kitchen, and plumped down in thechair where I had sat before. The light showed on the fog, brightenedand dimmed as the mist drifted past. There was no possibility of amistake: some one had been in the study, had turned on the table lamp, had projected his shadow against the patched panel of the door, and hadsomehow left the room, one door bolted, the only other exit barred andnailed. 

I went back and rejoined Worth who was standing where a brownish stainon the rug marked a spot a little nearer the corner of the table than itwas to the outer door. A curious place for a suicide to fall. Behind thetable was the library chair in which Thomas Gilbert worked when at hisdesk; beside it a small cabinet with a humidor on its top and the opendoor below revealing several decanters and bottles, whisky and wineglasses, a tray; between the desk and the fireplace were two otherchairs, large and comfortable; but in front of the table--between it andthe door--was barren floor. 

It is a fact that most men who shoot themselves do so while sitting;some lying in a bed; few standing. The psychology of this I must leaveto others, but experience has taught me to question the suicide of onewho has seemingly placed the muzzle of a revolver against him while onhis feet. Thomas Gilbert had stood; had chosen to take his life as hewas walking from door to desk, or from desk to door. 

"Worth, " I said. "There was somebody in here just now. "

"Couldn't have been, Jerry, " he answered absently; then added, his eyeson that stain, "I never could calculate what my father would do. Butwhen I talked to him last night, right here in this room, he didn't seemto me a man ready to take his own life. "

"You quarreled?"

"We always quarreled, whenever we met. "

"But this quarrel was more bitter than usual?"

"The last quarrel would seem the bitterest, wouldn't it, Jerry?" heasked. Then, after a moment, "Poor Jim Edwards!"

I caught my tongue to hold back the question. Worth went on, "When I phoned him just now, he hadn't heard a word about it. Seemedterribly upset. "

"Hadn't heard?" I echoed. "How was that?"

"You know we saw him at Tait's last night. He took the Pacheco Pass roadfrom San Francisco; drove straight to his ranch without hitting SantaYsobel. "

I wanted another look at that man Edwards. I was to have it. Worth wenton absently, "He'll be along presently to stay here while I'm away Monday. Told me itwould be the first time he'd put foot in the house for four years. Asboys up in Sonoma county, he and father always disagreed, but sometimethese last years there was a big split over something. They were barelyon speaking terms--and good old Jim took my news harder than as thoughI'd been telling him the death of a near friend. "

"Works like that with us humans, " I nodded. "Let some one die thatyou've disagreed with, and you remember every row you ever had withthem; remember it and regret it--which is foolish. "

"Which is foolish, " Worth repeated, and seemed for the first time ableto get away from the spot at which he had stopped. 

He went over to the empty, fireless hearth and stood there, his back tothe room, elbows on the mantel propping his head, face bent, obliviousto anything that I might do. It oughtn't to be hard to find the way thisplace could be entered and left by a man solid enough to cast a shadow, with quick fingers to snap the light on and off. But when I made apainstaking examination of a corner grate with a flue too small foranything but a chimney swallow to go up and down, a ceiling solidlybeamed and paneled, the glass that formed the skylight set in firmly aspart of the roof, when I'd turned up rugs and inspected an unbrokenfloor, even tried the corners of book cases to see if they masked afalse entrance, I owned myself, for the moment, beaten there. 

"Give me your torch--or go with me, Worth, " I said. "I'd like to take ascoot around outside. "

He didn't speak, only indicated the flashlight by a motion, where it layon the shelf beside his hand. I took it, unbolted the door, and steppedinto the garage. 

Everything all right here. My roadster; a much handsomer small machinebeyond it; a bench, portable forge and drill made a repair shop of onecorner, and as my light flashed over these, I checked and stared. Whyhad Worth gone to the shed hunting a crowbar to open the door? Here weretools that would have served as well. I put from me the hateful thought, and damned Cummings and his suspicions. The shadow didn't have to beWorth. Certainly he had not first lit that lamp, for I had seen it fromthe kitchen with him beside me. Some one other than Worth had been inthere when Worth put up the roadster. I'd find the man it really was. But even as I crossed to Eddie Hughes's door, something at the back ofmy head was saying to me that Worth could have been in that room--thatthere was time for it to be, if he had taken the crowbar from the garageand not from the shed as he said he did. 

At this I took myself in hand. The lie would have been so clumsy a onethat there was no way but to accept this statement for the truth; andsome one else had made that shadow on the canvas. 

I tried the chauffeur's door and found it locked; called, shook it, andhad set my shoulder against it to burst it in, when the rolling door onthe street side moved a little, and a voice said, "H-y-ah! What you doin' there?"

I turned and flashed my light on the six-inch crack of the sliding door. It gave me a strip of man, a long drab face at top, solid, meatylooking, yet somehow slightly cadaverous, a half shut eye, a crookedmouth--if I'd met that mug in San Francisco, I'd have labeled it"tough, " and located it South of Market Street. 

Slowly, it seemed rather reluctantly, Eddie Hughes worked the six-inchcrack wider by working himself through it. 

"What the hell do you want in my room for?" he demanded. The form of thewords was truculent, but the words themselves slid in a sort ofspiritless fashion from the corner of that crooked mouth of his, and headded in the next breath, "I'll open up for you, when I've lit theblinks. "

There was a central lamp that made the whole place as bright as day. Eddie fumbled a key out of his pocket, threw the door of his room open, and stepped back to let me pass him. 

"Capehart tells me Worth's here, " he said as we went in. 

"When?" I gave him a sharp look. He seemed not to notice it. 

"Just now. I came straight from there. "

He came straight from there? Did he supply an alibi so neatly because ofthat shadowy head on the door panel? For a long minute we each tookmeasure of the other, but Eddie's nerves were less reliable than mine;he spoke first. 

"Well?" he grunted, scarcely above his breath. And when I continued tostare silently at him, he writhed a shoulder with, "What's doing? Whatd'yuh want of me?"

Still silently, I pulled out with my thumb through the armhole of myvest the police badge pinned to the suspender. His ill-colored face wenta shade nearer the yellow white of tallow. 

"What for?" he asked huskily. "You haven't got nothin' on me. It wassuicide--cor'ner's jury says so. Lord! It has to be, him layin' there, all hunched up on the floor, his gun so tight in his mitt that they hadto pry the fingers off it!"

"So you found the body?"

He nodded and gulped. 

"I told all I knowed at the inquest, " he said doggedly. 

"Tell it again, " I commanded. 

Standing there, working his hands together as though he held some small, accustomed tool that he was turning, shifting from foot to foot, withlong breaks in his speech, the chauffeur finally put me into possessionof what he knew--or what he wished me to know. He had been out allnight. That was usual with him Saturdays. Where? Over around thecanneries. Had friends that lived there. He got into this place aboutdawn, and went straight to bed. 

"Hold on, Hughes, " I stopped him there. "You never went to bed--thatnight, or any other night--until you'd had a jolt from the bottleinside. "

He gave me a surly, half frightened glance, then said quickly, "Not a chance. Bolts on the doors, locks everywhere; all tight as ajail. Take it from me, he wasn't the kind you want to have a run-inwith--any time. Always just as cool as ice himself; try to make youbelieve he could tell what you were up to, clear across town. Hold itover you as if he was God almighty that stuck folks together and set 'emwalkin' around and thinkin' things. "

He broke off and looked over his shoulder in the direction of the study. The walls were thick--concrete; the door heavy. No sound of Worth'smoving in there could be heard in this room. Apparently it was the oldterror of his employer, or the new terror of the employer's death, thatspoke when he said, "I got up this morning late with a throat like the back of a chimney. Lord! I never wanted a drink so bad in my life--had to have one. Thechink leaves my breakfast for me Sundays; but I knew I couldn't eat tillI'd had one. So I--so I--"

It was as though some recollection fairly choked off his voice. Ifinished for him. 

"So you went in there--" I pointed at the study door, "and found thebody. "

"Naw! How the hell could I? I told you--locked. I crawled up on theroof, though; huntin' a way in, and I looked through the skylight. Therehe was. On the floor. His eyes weren't open much, but they was watchin'me--sort of sneerin'. I come down off that roof like a bat outa hell, and scuttled over to Vandeman's where his chink was on the porch, Ibellerin' at him. I telephoned from there. For the bulls; and thecor'ner; and everybody. Gawd! I was all in. "

I caught one point in the tale. 

"So the way into the study is through the skylight, Hughes?" and heshook his head vaguely, fumbling his lips with a trembling hand as hereplied, "Honest to God, Cap'n, I don't know. I never tried. I gave just one lookthrough it, and--" He broke off with a shudder. 

"Get a ladder, " I commanded. "I want to see that skylight. "

While he was gone on his errand to the shed, I investigated the outerwalls of the study with the torch, hunting some break in their solidity. They were concrete; a hair-crack would have been visible in the electricglow; there was no break. Then, as he placed the ladder against thecoping, I climbed to the roof and stepped across its firmness to theskylight. I looked down. 

Worth, kneeling on the hearth, was laying a fire in the corner grate. Ashe did not glance up, I knew he had not heard me. Evidently the studyhad been built to resist the disturbance of sound from without. Thatmeant that the report of the revolver inside had not been heard by anyone outside the walls. 

Directly below me was the library table and upon its top a blue deskblotter; a silver filagreed inkstand stood open; penholders, pencils, paper knife were on a tray beside it, one pen lying separate from theothers with a ruler, upon the blotting pad; books and a magazine neatlyin a pile. The walls, as I circled them with my eyes, were book-linedeverywhere except for the grate and the two doors. 

Then I inspected the skylight, frame and glass, feeling it over with myhands. There was no entrance here. Even should a pane of glass beremovable--all seemingly solid and tight--the frame between and the sashwere of steel, and the panes were too small for the passage of a man. Icrept back to the ladder as Worth was striking a match to light thepitch-pine kindling. 

"What about this Vandeman chink?" I asked of Hughes as I rejoined him atthe foot of the ladder. "Does he hang around here much?"

"Him and Chung visit back and forth a bit. I hear 'em talkin' hy-leehy-lo sometimes when I go by the kitchen. "

"Take me over there, " I said. 

The fog was beginning to blow away in threads; moonlight somewhere backof it made a queer, gray, glimmering world around us. We circled thegarden by the path, passing a sort of gardener's tool shed where Hughesleft the ladder, and from which I judged Worth had brought the bar hepried the door planks off with, to find a gap in a hedge between thisplace and the next. 

There was a light in the rear of the house over there, and awell-trodden path leading from the hedge gap made what I took to be aservants' highway. 

Vandeman's house proved to be, as nearly as one could see it in thedarkness, a sprawling bungalow, with courts, pergolas and terracesbursting out on all sides of it. I could fairly see it of a fineafternoon, with its showy master sitting on one of the showy porches, serving afternoon tea in his best manner to the best people of SantaYsobel. Just the husband for that doll-faced girl, if she only thoughtso. What could she have done with a young outlaw like Worth?

When I looked at the Chinaman in charge there, I gave up my idea ofquestioning him. Civilly enough, with a precise and educated usage ofthe English language, he confirmed what Eddie Hughes had already toldme about the telephoning from that place this morning; and I went nofurther. I know the Chinese--if anybody not Mongolian can say they knowthe race--and I have also a suitable respect for the value of time. Aweek of steady questioning of Vandeman's yellow man would have broughtme nowhere. He was that kind of a chink; grave, respectful, placid andimpervious. 

On the way back I asked Eddie about the Thornhill servants at the houseon the other side of Gilbert's, and found they kept but one, "a sort ofold lady, " Eddie called her, and I guessed easily at the decayedgentlewoman kind of person. It seemed that Mrs. Thornhill was a widow, and there wasn't much money now to keep up the handsome place. 

I left Eddie slipping eel-like through the big doors, and went into thestudy to find Worth sitting before the blazing hearth. He looked up as Ientered to remark quietly, "Bobs said she'd be over later, and I told her to come on down here. "

CHAPTER XI

THE MISSING DIARY

My experience as a detective has convinced me that the evident isusually true; that in a great majority of cases crime leaves a straighttrail, and ambiguities are more often due to the inability of thetrailer than to the cunning of the trailed. Such reputation as I haveestablished is due to acceptance of and earnest adherence to theobvious. 

In this affair of Thomas Gilbert's death, everything so far pointed oneway. The body had been found in a bolted room, revolver in hand; on thewall over the mantel hung the empty holster; Worth assured me the gunwas kept always loaded; and there might be motive enough for suicide inthe quarrel last night between father and son. 

Because of that flitting shadow I had seen, I knew this place was notimpervious. Some one person, at least, could enter and leave the roomeasily, quickly, while its doors were locked. But that might beHughes--or even Worth--with some reason for doing so not willinglyexplained, and some means not readily seen. It probably had nothing todo with Thomas Gilbert's sudden death, could not offset in my mind theconviction of Thomas Gilbert's stiffened fingers about the pistol'sbutt. That I made a second thorough investigation of the study interiorwas not because I questioned the manner of the death. 

I began taking down books from the shelves at regular intervals, sounding the thick dead-wall, in search of a secreted entrance. I cameon a row of volumes whose red morocco backs carried nothing but dates. 

"Account books?" I asked. 

Worth turned his head to look, and the bleakest thing that could becalled a smile twisted his lips a little, as he said, "My father's diaries. "

"Quite a lot of them. "

"Yes. He'd kept diaries for thirty years. "

"But he seems to have dropped the habit. There is no 1920 book. "

"Oh, yes there is, " very definitely. "He never gave up setting down thesins of his family and neighbors while his eyes had sight to see them, and his hand the cunning to write. " He spoke with extraordinarybitterness, finishing, "He would have had it on the desk there. Thecurrent book was always kept convenient to his hand. "

An idea occurred to me. 

"Worth, " I asked, "did you see that 1920 volume when you were here lastnight?"

He looked a little startled, and I prompted, "Were you too excited to have noticed a detail like that?"

"I wasn't excited; not in the sense of being confused, " he spoke slowly. "The book was there; he'd been writing in it. I remember looking at itand thinking that as soon as I was gone, he'd sit down in his chair andput every damn' word of our row into it. That was his way. The seamyside of Santa Ysobel life's recorded in those books. I alwaysunderstood they amounted to a pack of neighborhood dynamite. "

"Got to find that last book, " I said. 

He nodded listlessly. I went to it, giving that room such a searching aswould have turned out a bent pin, had one been mislaid in it. I eventook down from the shelves books of similar size to see if the lostvolume had been slipped into a camouflaging cover--all to no good. Itwasn't there. And when I had finished I was positive of two things; thestudy had no other entrance than the apparent ones, and the diary of1920 had been removed from the room since Worth saw it there the nightbefore. I reached for one of the other volumes. Worth spoke again in asort of dragging voice, "What do you want to look at them for, Jerry?"

"It's not idle curiosity, " I told him, a bit pricked. 

"I know it's not that. " The old, affectionate tone went right to myheart. "But if you're thinking you'll find in them any explanation of myfather's taking his own life, I'm here to tell you you're mistaken. Plenty there, no doubt, to have driven a tender hearted man off theearth. .. . He was different. " Eyeing the book in my hand, the boy blurtedwith sudden heat, "Those damn' diaries have been wife and child and meatand drink to him. They were his reason for living--not dying!"

"Start me right in regard to your father, Worth, " I urged anxiously. "It's important. "

The boy gave me his shoulder and continued to stare down into the fire, as he said at last, slowly, "I would rather leave him alone, Jerry. "

I knew it would be useless to insist. Never then or thereafter did Ihear him say more of his father's character. At that, he could hardlyhave told more in an hour's talk. 

At random, I took the volume that covered the year in which, as Iremembered, Thomas Gilbert's wife had secured her divorce from him. Neatly and carefully written in a script as readable as type, the books, if I am a judge, had literary style. They were much more than merediaries. True, each entry began with a note of the day's weather, andcertain small records of the writer's personal affairs; but these wentoddly enough with what followed; a biting analysis of the inner life, the estimated intentions and emotions, of the beings nearest to him. Itwas inhuman stuff. But Worth was right; there was no soil for suicide inthis matter written by a hand guided by a harsh, censorious mind; toomuch egotism here to willingly give over the rôle of conscience for hisfriends. Friends?--could a man have friends who regarded humanitythrough such unkindly, wide open, all-seeing eyes?

Worth, seated across from me on the other side of the fire, staredstraight into the leaping blaze; but I doubted if that was what he saw. On his face was the look which I had come to know, of the dignifiedhouseholder who had gone in and shut the door on whatever of dismay andconfusion might be in his private affairs. I began to read his father'sversion of the separation from his mother, with its ironic references toher most intimate friend. 

"Marion would like to see Laura Bowman ship Tony and marry Jim Edwards. I swear the modern woman has played bridge so long that her idea of themost serious obligation in life--the marriage vow--is, 'Never mind. Ifyou don't like the hand you have got, shuffle, cut, and deal again!'"

I dropped the book to my knee and looked over at Worth, asking, "This Mrs. Dr. Bowman that we met last night at Tait's--she was aspecial friend of your mother's?"

"They were like sisters--in more than one way. " I knew without histelling it that he alluded to their common misfortune of being bothunhappily married. His mother, a woman of more force than the other, hadgained her freedom. 

"_Femina Priores. _" I came on an entry standing oddly alone. "Marion isto secure the divorce--at my suggestion. I have demanded that our sonshare his time between us. "

Again I let the book down on my knee and looked across at the silentfellow there. And I had heard him compassionate Barbara Wallace forhaving painful memories of her childhood! I believe he was at thatmoment more at peace with his father than he had ever been in hislife--and that he grieved that this was so. I knew, too, that theforgiveness and forgetting would not extend to these pitiless records. Without disturbing him, I laid the book I held down and scouted forwardfor things more recent. 

"Laura Bowman"--through one entry after another Gilbert kicked that poorwoman's name like a football. Very fine and righteous and high-minded inwhat he said, but writing it out in full and calling her painfuldifficulties--the writhing of a sensitive, high-strung woman, mismatedwith a tyrant--an example notably stupid and unoriginal, of the eternalmatrimonial triangle. Bowman evidently kept his sympathy, so far assuch a nature can be said to entertain that gentle emotion. 

I ran through other volumes, merciless recitals, now and again, of theshortcomings of his associates or servants; a cold bloodedmisrepresentation of his son; a sneer for the affair with Ina Thornhill, with the dictum, sound enough no doubt, that the girl herself did thecourting, and that she had no conscience--"The extreme society type ofparasite, " he put it. And then the account of his break with Edwards. 

Dr. Bowman, it seems, had come to Gilbert in confidence for help, sayingthat his wife had left his house in the small hours the previous night, nothing but an evening wrap pulled over her night wear, and that heguessed where she could be found, since she hadn't gone to her mother's. He asked Gilbert to be his ambassador with messages of pardon. Didn'twant to go himself, because that would mean a row, and he wasdetermined, if possible, to keep the thing private, giving a generousreason: that he wasn't willing to disgrace the woman. All of which, after he'd written it down, the diarist discredited with his briefcomment to the effect that Tony Bowman shunned publicity because scandalof the sort would hurt his practice, and his pride as well, and that hedidn't go out to Jim Edwards's ranch because, under these circumstances, he would be afraid of Jim. 

Thomas Gilbert did the doctor's errand for him. The entry concerning itoccupied the next day. I read between the lines how much he enjoyed hisposition of god from the machine, swooping down on the two he found outthere, estimating their situation and behavior in his usualhair-splitting fashion, sitting as a court of last appeal. It was of nouse for Edwards to explain to him that Laura Bowman was practicallycrazy when she walked out of her husband's house as the culmination of amiserable scene--the sort that had been more and more frequent there oflate--carrying black-and-blue marks where he had grabbed and shaken her. The statement that it was by mere chance she encountered Jim seemed tohave made Gilbert smile, and Jim's taking of her out to the ranch, theassertion that it was the only thing to do, that she was sick anddelirious, had inspired Gilbert to say to him, quite neatly, "Youweren't delirious, I take it--not more than usual. "

Then he demanded that Laura go with him, at once, back to her husband, or out to her mother's. She considered the matter and chose to go backto Bowman, saying bitterly that her mother made the match in the firstplace, and stood always against her daughter and with her son-in-lawwhatever he did. Plainly it took all of Laura's persuasions to preventactual blows between Gilbert and Edwards. Also, she would only promiseto go back and live under Bowman's roof, but not as his wife--and thewhole situation was much aggravated. 

I followed Mr. Thomas Gilbert's observation of this affair: his amusedunderstanding of how much Jim Edwards and Laura hated him; his privatecontempt for Bowman, to whom he continued to give countenance and moralsupport; his setting down of the quarrels, intimate, disastrous, betweenBowman and his wife, as the doctor retailed them to him, the womandragging herself on her knees to beg for her freedom, and his callousrefusals; backed by threat of the wide publicity of a scandalousdivorce suit, with Thomas Gilbert as main witness. I turned to Worth andasked, "When will Edwards be here?"

"Any minute now. " Worth looked at me queerly, but I went on, "You said he phoned from the ranch. Did he answer you in person--fromout there?"

"That's what I told you, Jerry. "

My searching gaze made nothing of the boy's impassive face; I plungedagain into the diaries, running down a page, getting the heading of asentence, not delaying to go further unless I struck something whichseemed to me important, and each minute thinking of the strangeness of aman like this killing himself. It was in the 1916 volume, that I made adiscovery which surprised an exclamation from me. 

"What would you call this, Worth? Your father's way of makingcorrections?"

"Corrections?" Worth spoke without looking around. "My father never madecorrections--in anything. " It was said without animus--a simplestatement of fact. 

"But look here. " I held toward him the book. There were three leavesgone; that meant six pages, and the entries covered May 31 and June 1. Ihad verified that before I spoke to him, noticing that the statement ofthe weather for May 31 remained at the foot of the last page left, whilea run-over on the page beyond the missing ones had been marked out. Ithad nothing to do with the weather. As nearly as I could make out withthe reading glass I held over it, the words were, "take the woman for noother than she appears. "

"Worth, " I urged, "give me your attention for a minute here. You sayyour father did not make corrections, but one of the diaries is cut. Therecords of two days are gone. Were those pages stolen?"

"How should I know?" said Worth, and added, helpfully, "Pity they didn'tsteal the whole lot. That would have been a relief. "

There were voices and the sound of steps outside. I shoved the diaryback into its place on the shelf, and turned to see Barbara at thebroken door with Jim Edwards. She came in, her clear eyes a little wide, but the whole young personality of her quite composed. Edwards halted atthe door, a haggard eye roving over the room, until it encountered theblood-stain on the rug, when it sheered abruptly, and fixed itself onWorth, who crossed to shake hands, with a quiet, "Come in, won't you, Jim? Or would you rather go up to the house?"

Keenly I watched the man as he stood there struggling for words. Therewas color on his thin cheeks, high under the dark eyes; it made him lookwild. The chill of the drive, or pure nervousness, had him shaking. 

"Thank you--the house, I think, " he said rather incoherently. Yet helingered. "Barbara's been telling me, " he said in that deep voice of hiswith the air of one who utters at random. "Worth, --had you thought thatit might have been happening down here, right at the time we all sat atTait's together?"

He was in a condition to spill anything. A moment more and we shouldhave heard what it was that had him in such a grip of horror. But as Iglanced at Worth, I saw him reply to the older man's question with avery slight but very perceptible shake of the head. It had nothing to dowith what had been asked him; to any eye it said more plainly thanwords, "Don't talk; pull yourself together. " I whirled to see howEdwards responded to this, and found our group had a new member. In thedoor stood a decent looking, round faced Chinaman. Edwards had drawn alittle inside the threshold for him, but very little, and waited, stillshaken, perturbed, hat in hand, apparently ready to leave as soon as theOriental got out of his way. 

"Hello, " the yellow man saluted us. 

"Hello, Chung, " Worth rejoined, and added, "Looks good to see youagain. "

I was relieved to hear that. It showed me that the cook, anyhow, had notseen Worth last night in Santa Ysobel. 

"Just now I hea' 'bout Boss. " Chung's eye went straight to the stain onthe rug, exactly as Edwards' had done, but it stopped there, and hisOriental impassiveness was unmoved. "Too bad, " he concluded, thrust thefingers of one hand up the sleeve of the other and waited. 

"Where you been all day?" I said quickly. 

"My cousin' ranch. "

"His cousin's got a truck farm over by Medlow--or used to have, " Worthsupplied, and Chung looked to him, instantly. 

"You sabbee, " he said hopefully. "I go iss mo'ning--all same anyday--not find out 'bout Boss. Too bad. Too velly much bad. " A pause, then, looking around at the four of us, "I get dinner?"

"We've all had something to eat, Chung, " Worth said. "You go now fixroom. Make bed. To-night, I stay; Mr. Boyne here stay; Mr. Edwardsstay. Fix three rooms. Good fire. "

"All 'ite, " the chink would have ducked out then, Jim Edwards after him, but I stopped the proceedings with, "Hold on a minute--while we're all together--tell us about that visitorMr. Gilbert had last night. " I was throwing a rock in the brush-pile inthe chance of scaring out a rabbit. I was shooting the question atChung, but my eye was on Edwards. He glared back at me for a moment, then couldn't stand the strain and looked away. At last the Chinamanspoke. 

"Not see um. I go fix bed now. "

"Hold on, " again I stopped him. "Worth, tell him those beds can wait. Tell him it's all right to answer my questions. "

"'S all 'ite?" Chung studied us in turn. I was keeping an inconspicuouseye on Edwards as I reassured him. "'S all 'ite, " he repeated with afalling inflection this time, and finished placidly, "You want know'bout lady?"

"What's all this?" Edwards spoke low. 

"About a lady who came to see Mr. Gilbert last night, " I explainedshortly; then, "Who was she, Chung?"

"Not see um good. " The Chinaman shook his head gravely. 

"Did she come here--to the study?" I asked. He nodded. Worth movedimpatiently, and the Chinaman caught it. He fixed his eyes on Worth. Istepped between them. "Chung, " I said sharply. "You knew the lady. Whowas she?"

"Not see um good, " he repeated, plainly reluctant. "She hold hand byface--cly, I think. "

"Good God!" Edwards broke out startlingly. "If we're going to hear anaccount of all the women that Tom lectured and made cry--leave me out ofit. "

"One woman will do, for this time, " I said to him drily, "if it's theright one, " and he subsided, turning away. But he did not go. Withburning eyes, he stood and listened while I cross-examined the unwillingChung and got apparently a straight story showing that some woman hadcome to the side door of his master's house shortly after dinnerSaturday night, walked to the study with that master, weeping, and thather voice when he heard it, sounded like that of some one he knew. Itried every way in the world to get him to be specific about this voice;did it sound like that of a young lady? an old lady? did he think it wassome one he knew well, or only a little? had he been hearing it muchlately? All the usual tactics; but Chung's placid obstinacy was proofagainst them. He kept shaking his head and saying over and over, "No hear um good, " until Barbara, standing watchfully by, said, "Chung, you think that lady talk like this?"

As she spoke, after the first word, a change had come into her voice; itwas lighter, higher, with a something in its character faintlyreminiscent to my ear. And Chung bobbed his head quickly, noddingassent. In her mimicry he had recognized the tones of the visitor. Iglanced at Edwards: he looked positively relieved. 

"I'll go to the house, Worth, " he said with more composure in his tonethan I would have thought a few moments ago he could in any way summon. "You'll find me there. " And he followed the Chinaman up the moonlitpath. 

CHAPTER XII

A MURDER

I stood at the door and watched until I saw first Chung's head come intothe light on the kitchen porch, then Jim Edwards's black poll follow it. I waited until both had gone into the house and the door was shut, before I went back to Barbara and Worth. They were speaking together inlow tones over at the hearth. The three of us were alone; and theblood-stain on the rug, out of sight there in the shadow beyond thetable, would seem to cry out as a fourth. 

"Barbara, " I broke in across their talk, "who was the woman who camehere to this place last night?"

She didn't answer me. Instead, it was Worth who spoke. 

"Better come here and listen to what Bobs has been saying to me, Jerry, before you ask any questions. "

I crossed and stood between the two young people. 

"Well, " I grunted; and though Barbara's face was white, her eyes big andblack, she answered me bravely, "Mr. Gilbert did not kill himself. Worth doesn't think so, either. "

"What!" It was jolted out of me. After a moment's thought, I finished, "Then I've got to know who the woman was that visited this room lastnight. "

For a long while she made no reply, studying Worth's profile as hestared steadily into the fire. No signal passed between them, butfinally she came to her decision and said, "Mr. Boyne, ask Worth what he thinks I ought to say to that. "

Instead, "Who was it, Worth?" I snapped, speaking to the back of theyoung man's head. The red came up into the girl's face, and her eyesflashed; but Worth merely shrugged averted shoulders. 

"You can search me, " he said, and left it there. 

I looked from one to the other of these young people: Worth, whom Iloved as I might have my own son had I been so fortunate as to possessone; this girl who had made a place of warmth for herself in my heart inless than a day, whose loyalty to my boy I was certain I might count on. How different this affair must look to them from the face it wore to me, an old police detective, who had bulled through many inquiries likethis, the corpse itself, perhaps, lying in the back of the room, insteadof the blood-stain we had there on the rug; what was practically theThird Degree being applied to relatives and friends; with the squalidprospect of a court trial ahead of us all. If they'd seen as much ofthis sort of thing as I had, they wouldn't be holding me up now, tyingmy hands that were so willing to help, by this fine-spun, overstrainednotion of shielding a woman's name. 

"Barbara, " I began--I knew an appeal to the unaccountable Worth wouldget me nowhere--"the facts we've got to deal with here are a possiblemurder, with this lad the last person known--by us, of course--to haveseen his father alive. We know, too, that they quarreled bitterly. Weknow all this. Outside people, men who are interested, and more or lesshostile, were aware that Worth needed money--needs it yet, for thatmatter--a large sum. I suppose it is a question of time when it will beknown that Worth came here last night; and when it is known, do yourealize what it will mean?"

Worth had sat through this speech without the quiver of a muscle, and noword came from him as I paused for a reply. Little Barbara, big eyesboring into me as though to read all that was in the back of my mind, nodded gravely but did not speak. I crossed to the shelves and took downthe diary whose leather back bore the date of 1916. As I opened it, finding the place where its pages had been removed, I continued, "You and I know--we three here know--" I included Worth in mystatement--"that the crime was neither suicide nor patricide; but it islikely we must have proof of that fact. Unless we find the murderer--"

"But the motive--there would have to be motive. "

Barbara struck right at the core of the thing. She didn't check at themere material facts of how a murder could have been done, who might havehad opportunity. The fundamental question of why it should have been washer immediate interest. 

"I believe I've the motive here, " I said and thrust the mutilated volumeinto her hand. "Some one stole these leaves out of Mr. Gilbert's diary. The books are filled with intimate details of the affairs ofpeople--things which people prefer should not be known--names, detailsand dates written out completely. It's likely murder was done last nightto get possession of those pages. "

She went to the desk and glanced over the book; not the minuteexamination with the reading glass which I had given it; that mere flirtof a glance which, when I had first noticed it the night before atTait's, skimming across that description of Clayte, had seemed soinadequate. Then she turned to me. 

"Mr. Gilbert cut these out himself, " she pronounced. 

That brought Worth's head up and his face around to stare at her. 

"You say my father removed something he had written?" he asked. Barbaranodded. "He never changed a decision--and those books were hisdecisions. "

"Then this wasn't a correction, but he cut it out. Can't you see, Mr. Boyne? Those leaves were removed by a man who respected the book and wasas careful in his mutilation of it as he was in its making. It isprecisely written--I'm referring to workmanship, not its literaryquality--carefully margined, evenly indented on the paragraphbeginnings. And so, in this removal of three leaves, the cutting wasdone with a sharp knife drawn along the edge of a ruler--" I picked upfrom where they lay on the blotting pad, a small pearl-handled knife, its sharp blade open, and the ruler I had seen when looking down fromthe skylight, and placed them before her. She nodded and continued, "There is a bit of margin left so no other leaves can be loosened bythis removal. The marking out of the run-over has been neatly ruled, done so recently that the ink is not yet black--done with that ink inthe stand. It was blotted with this. " She lifted a hand-blotter to showme the print of a line of ink. There were other markings on the face ofthe soft paper, and I took it eagerly. Barbara smiled. 

"You will get little from that, " she said. I had not even seen her giveit attention. "Scattered words--and parts of words, blotted frequentlyas they were written. Perhaps, with care, we might learn something, butwe can turn more easily to the last pages of his diary and--"

"There are no last pages, " I interrupted. "The 1920 book is missing. "

"Gone--stolen?" she exclaimed. It brought a smile to my face. For thefirst time in my experience of this pretty, little bunch of brains, shehad hazarded a guess. 

"Gone, " I admitted coolly--a bit sarcastically. "I've no reason to saystolen. "

"But--yes, you have--you have, Mr. Boyne! If it is gone, it was stolen. Is it gone--are you sure it is gone?" Eagerly her eyes were searchingdesk, cabinet, the shelf where the other diaries made their long row. Isatisfied her on that score. 

"I have searched the study thoroughly; it is not in this room. "

"Was here last night, " Worth cut in. "I saw it on the desk. "

"And was stolen last night, " Barbara reaffirmed, quickly. "These booksare too big to be slipped into a pocket, so we can't believe it was leftupon Mr. Gilbert's person; and he wouldn't lend it--wouldn't willinglylet it go from his possession. So it was stolen; and the man who stoleit--killed him. " She shuddered. 

That was going too swift for me to follow, but I saw on Worth Gilbert'sface his acceptance of it. Either conviction of Barbara's infallibility, or some knowledge locked up inside his own chest, made him certain thediary had been stolen, and the thief was his father's murderer. In aflash, I remembered his words, "putting every damn' word of our row intoit, " and I shot straight at him, "Did you take that book, Worth?"

He only shook his head and answered, "You heard what Bobs said, Jerry. "

If he took the book he killed his father; that was Barbara's inference, Worth's acceptance. I threw back my shoulders to cast off the suspicion, then reached across to place my fingers under the girl's hand and pullfrom it the only record of that last written page, the blotter. 

"Will you read me that?" I asked her. "Every word and part of aword--every letter?"

Her eyes smiled into mine with a reassurance that was like balm. Worthrose and found her a hand-glass on the mantel, passing it to her, andwith this to reverse the scrawlings, she read and I wrote down in mymemorandum book two complete words, two broken words and five singleletters picked from overlying marks that were too confused to bedecipherable. Though the three of us struggled with them, they held nomeaning. 

Worth's interest quickly ceased. 

"I'll join Jim Edwards in the house, " he said, but I stopped him. 

"One minute, Worth. There was a woman visitor here last night. It wouldseem she carried away with her the diary of 1920 and three leaves fromthe book of 1916. I want you--you and Barbara--to tell me what you knowthat happened here in Santa Ysobel on the dates of the missing pages, May 31 and June 1, 1916. "

Barbara accepted the task, turning that wonderful cinematograph memoryback, and murmured, "I never tried recollecting on just a bare date this way, but--" thenglanced around at me and finished--"nothing happened to me in SantaYsobel then, because I wasn't in Santa Ysobel. I was in San Franciscoand--"

"And I was in Flanders, so that lets me out, " Worth broke in brusquely. "I'll go into the house. "

"Wait, Worth. " I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Go on, Barbara; you hadthought of something. "

"Yes. Father died in January of that year, and in March I had to vacatethe house. It had been sold, and they wanted to fix it over. I leftSanta Ysobel on the eighteenth of March, but they didn't get into thehouse until June first. "

Again Worth interrupted. 

"Which jogs my memory for an unexciting detail. " He smiledenigmatically. "I was jilted June first. "

"In Flanders?" How many times had this lad been jilted?

"No. Right here. I wasn't here of course, but the letter which did thetrick was written here, and bore that date--June one, 1916. "

"How do you get the date so pat?"

"It was handed me by the mail orderly--I was on the Verdun sectorthen--on the morning of the Fourth of July. Remember the date the letterwas written because of the quick time it made. Most of our mail tookfrom six weeks to eternity. What are you smiling at, Bobs?"

"Just a little--you don't mind, do you?--at your saying you rememberIna's letter by the quick time it made in reaching you. "

"Who bought your house, Barbara?" I asked her. 

"Dr. Bowman--or rather Mrs. Bowman's uncle bought it and gave it toher. "

"And they went in on the first of June, 1916?" I was all excitement, turning the pages of the diary to get to certain points I remembered. "What can either one of you tell me about the state of affairs at thattime between Dr. Bowman and his wife--and that man who was just inhere--Jim Edwards?"

Worth turned a hostile back; Barbara seemed to shrink in her chair. Ihated like a whipping to pull this sort of stuff on them, but I knewthat Barbara's knowledge of Worth's danger would reconcile her towhatever painful thing must be done, and I had to know who was thatvisitor of last night. 

"Is that--that stuff in those damnable books?" I saw the hunch ofWorth's broad shoulders. 

"Some of it is--some of it has been cut out, " I replied. 

"And you connect Jim Edwards with this crime?"

"I don't connect him--he connects himself--by them, and by his manner. "

"Burn them!" He faced me, came over and reached for the book. "Dump thewhole rotten mess into the fire, Jerry, and be done with it. "

"Easy said, but that would sure be a short cut to trouble. Tell me, I'vegot to know, if you think this man Edwards--under greatprovocation--capable of--well, of killing a fellow creature. "

"Jerry, " Worth took the book out of my hand and laid it on the table, "what you want to do is to forget this--dirt--that you've been reading, and go at this thing without prejudice. If you open any trails and theylead in my direction, don't be afraid to follow them. This thing oftrying to find a criminal in some one that my father has already deeplyinjured--some one that he's made life a hell for--so that suspicionneedn't be directed to me, makes me sick. If I'd allow you to do it, I'dbe yellow clear through. "

That was about the longest speech I'd heard Worth Gilbert make since hisreturn from France. And he meant every word of it, too; but it didn'tsuit me. This "Hew to the line" stuff is all right until the chips beginwhacking the head of your friend. In this case there wasn't a doubt inmy mind that when a breath of suspicion got out that Thomas Gilbert hadnot killed himself, that minute would see the first finger point atThomas Gilbert's son as the murderer. So I grumbled, "Just the same, Edwards has something on his mind about last night. "

"He has--and it's pretty nearly tearing him to pieces, " Worth admitted, but would go no further. 

"He was here last night, I'm sure--and Mrs. Bowman was with him, " Iventured. 

Barbara, who had been sitting through this her eyes on Worth, turnedfrom him to me and pronounced, gently, "Yes, he was here, and Laura was with him. "

"Bobs!" Worth spoke so sternly that she glanced up startled. "I'll notstand for you throwing suspicion on Jim. "

"Did I--do that?" her lip trembled. Worth's eyes were on the fire. 

"Don't quarrel with the girl, " I remonstrated. Barbara had told me thevisitor; I covered my elation with, "She's only looking out for yoursafety. "

"I can look out for myself, " curtly. He turned hard eyes on us. It mademe feel put away from him, chucked out from his friendship. "And I neverquarreled with anybody in my life. Sometimes--" he turned from one tothe other of us, speaking slowly, "Sometimes I seem to antagonizepeople, for no reason that I can see; and sometimes I fight; but I neverquarrel. "

"No offense intended--or taken, " I assured him hastily. My heart wasfull of his danger, and I told myself that it was his misery spoke, andnot the true Worth Gilbert. But a very pale and subdued Barbara saidtremulously, "I guess I'd better go home now, " suggesting, after the very slightestpause, "Mr. Boyne can take me. "

"Don't, Bobsie. " Worth's voice was gentle again, but absent. It soundedas though he had already forgotten both of us, and our possible cause ofoffense. "Go to the house with Jerry. I'll bar the door and follow. "

"Can't I help with that?" I offered. 

"No. Eddie will give me a hand if I need it. Go on. I'll be with you ina minute. "

CHAPTER XIII

DR. BOWMAN

But it was considerably more than a minute before Worth followed us tothe house. We walked slowly, talking; when I looked back from thekitchen porch, Worth had already come outside, and I thought EddieHughes was with him, though I heard no voices and couldn't be sure onaccount of the shrubbery between. 

Getting into the house we found that Chung had the downstairs all openedup through, lights going, heat turned on from the basement furnace;everywhere that tended, homelike appearance a competent servant gives aplace. On the hall table as we passed, I noticed a doctorish top coat, with a primly folded muffler laid across it. 

"Dr. Bowman is here, " Barbara said hardly above her breath. 

We listened; no sound of voices from the living room; then I got thetramp of feet that moved back and forth in there. We opened the door, and there were the two men; a queer proposition!

Bowman had taken a chair pretty well in the middle of the room. It wasJim Edwards whose feet I had heard as he roamed about. No word was goingbetween them; apparently they hadn't spoken to each other at all; thelooks that met or avoided were those strange looks of persons who livein lengthened and what might be termed intimate hostility. 

"Ah--Boyne--isn't it?" Bowman greeted me; I thought our coming relievedthe situation. He shook hands, then turned to Barbara with, "Mrs. Thornhill said you were here; I told her I would bring you back withme. "

I rather wondered not to hear him insist on being taken at once to thestudy, but his next words gave the reason. He'd reached Santa Ysobel toolate for the inquest itself, but not too late to make what he informedus was a thorough investigation of everything it treated of. 

Barbara and I found places on the davenport; Edwards prowled up and downthe other end of the room, openly in torment. Those stormy black eyes ofhis were seldom off Bowman, while the doctor's gray, heavy-lidded gazenever got beyond the toes of the restless man's moving boots. He hadbegun a grumbling tale of the coroner's incompetence and neglect toreopen the inquest when he, the family physician, arrived, as thoughthat were important, when Worth came in. 

Instantly the doctor was on his feet, had paced up to the new master ofthe house, and began pumping his arm in a long handshake, while hepassed out those platitudes of condolence a man of his sort deals in atsuch a time. The stuff I'd been reading in those diaries had told mewhat was the root and branch of his friendship with the dead man; itmade the hair at the back of my neck lift to hear him boasting of it inJim Edwards' presence, and know what I knew. "And, my dear boy, " hefinished, "they tell me you've not been to view the body--yet. Ithought perhaps you'd like to go--with me. I can have my machine here ina minute. No?" as Worth declined with a wordless shake of the head. 

I hoped he'd leave then; but he didn't. Instead, he turned back to hischair, explaining, "If Mrs. Thornhill's cook hadn't phoned me, when Mrs. Thornhill had asecond collapse last night, I suppose I should be in San Franciscostill. The coroner seemed to think there was no necessity for havingcompetent medical testimony as to the time of death, and the physicalcondition of the deceased. I should have been wired for. The inquestshould have been delayed until I arrived. The way the thing was managedwas disgraceful. "

"It was merciful. " Jim Edwards spoke as though unwillingly, in amuttered undertone. Evidently it was the first word he'd addressed toBowman--if he could be said to address him now, as he finished, "Ihadn't thought of an inquest. Yet of course there'd be one in a case ofsuicide. "

Bowman only heard and wholly misconstrued him, snatching at theconcluding words, "Of course it was suicide. Done with his own weapon, taken from theholster where we know it always hung, fully loaded. The muzzle had beenpressed so close against the breast when the cartridge exploded that thewoolen vest had taken fire. I should say it had smouldered for sometime; there was a considerable hole burned in the cloth. The flesharound the wound was powder-scarred. "

Worth took it like a red Indian. I could see by the glint of his eye asit flickered over the doctor's face, the smooth white hands, the wholesmooth personality, that the boy disliked, and had always disliked him. Yet he listened silently. 

I rather hoped by leading questions to get Bowman to express the opinionthat Thomas Gilbert had been killed in the small hours of the morning. Circumstances then would have fitted in with Eddie Hughes. Eddie Hugheswas to me the most acceptable murderer in sight. But no--nothing woulddo him but to stick to the hour the coroner had accepted. 

"Medical science cannot determine closer than that, " he was very final. "The death took place within an hour preceding midnight. "

"You are positive it couldn't be this morning?" I asked. 

"Positive. "

Well, Dr. Bowman's testimony, if accepted at the value the doctorhimself placed upon it, would clear Worth of suspicion, for the lad waswith me at Tait's from a few minutes past ten until after one; and JimEdwards, now pacing the floor so restlessly, had also been there thegreater part of that time. I had had too much experience with doctor'sguesses based on _rigor mortis_ to let it affect my views. 

In the minute of silence, we could hear Chung moving about at the backof the house. The doctor spoke querulously. 

"Never expect anything of a Chinaman, but I should think when thechauffeur found the body he might have had sense enough to summonfriends of the family. He could have phoned me--I was only in SanFrancisco. "

"He could have phoned me at the ranch, " Jim Edwards' deep voice came in. 

"You? Why should he phone for you?" Bowman wheeled on him at last. "Iwas the man's physician, as well as his close friend. Everybody knowsyou weren't on good terms with him. Gad! You wouldn't be here in thishouse to-night, if he were alive. "

In the sort of silence that comes when some one's been suddenly struckin the face, Worth crossed to Edwards and laid an arm along hisshoulders. 

"I've asked Jim to stay in my place, here, in my house, while I'm awayover Monday--and he can do as he likes about whom he chooses to havearound. "

Bowman gradually got to his feet, his face a study. 

"I see, " he said. "Then I'll not trespass on your time any longer. Ifelt obliged to offer my services . .. Patients of mine . .. For years . .. In affliction . .. " a gleam of anger came into his fishy eyes. "I've beenmet with damned insolence. .. . Claiming of the house before your father'sdecently in his grave. " He jerked fully erect. "Leave your affairs inthe hands of that degenerate. If he doesn't do you dirt, you'll be thefirst he's let off! Come, Miss Barbara, " to the girl who sat beside me, looking on mutely observant. 

"Thank you, doctor. " She answered him as tranquilly as though no voicehad been raised in anger in that room. "I think I'll stay a littlelonger. Jim will take me home. "

The doctor glared and stalked out. To the last I think he was expectingsome one to stop him and apologize. I suppose this was what Worthdescribed naïvely as "antagonizing people without intending to. " Well, it might not be judicious; I certainly was glad the doctor was so sureof the time at which his friend Gilbert had met death; yet I couldn'tbut enjoy seeing him get his. As soon as the man's back was turned, Edwards beckoned Barbara to the window. Worth and I left them talkingtogether there in low tones, he to get something he wanted from a casein the hall, where he called me to the phone, saying long distancewanted me. While I was waiting for my connection (Central, as usual, having gotten me, now couldn't get the other party) the two came fromthe living room and Barbara said "Good night" to us in passing. 

"Those two seem to have something on hand, " I commented as they wentout. "The little girl gave Bowman one for himself--in the nicestpossible way. Don't wonder Edwards likes her for it. "

"Poor Laura Bowman! Her friends take turns giving that bloodless lizardshe's tied to, one for himself any time they can, " Worth said. "Mymother used to handle the doctor something like that; and now it'sBarbara--little Bobsie Wallace--God bless her!"

He went on into the dining room. I looked after his unconscious, departing figure and thought he deserved a good licking. Why couldn't hehave spoken that way to the girl herself? Why hadn't he taken her home, instead of leaving it to Edwards? Then I got my call and answered, "This is Boyne. Put them through. "

In a minute came Roberts' voice. 

"Hello, Mr. Boyne?"

"Yes. What you got?"

"Telegram--Hicks--Los Angeles. He's located Steve Skeels--"

"Read me the wire, " I broke in. 

"All right. " A pause, then, "'Skeels arrived here from 'Frisco thismorning shall I arrest?'"

"Good!" I exclaimed. "Wire him to keep Steve under surveillance andawait instructions. Tell him not to lose him. Get it, Roberts? Hustleit. I'll be in by nine. Good-by, " and I hung up. 

I looked around; Worth had gone into the dining room; I stepped to thedoor and saw him kneeling before an open lower door of the built-insideboard, and noted that the compartment had been steel lined andYale-locked, making a sort of safe. A lamp at the end of an extensionwire stood on the floor beside him; he looked around at me over hisshoulder as I put my head in to say, "Stock in your old suitcase has gone up a notch, Worth. We've caughtSkeels. "

"So soon?" was all he said. But my news seemed to decide something forhim; with a sharp gesture of finality, he put into his breast pocket thepackage of papers he had been looking at. 

When a little later, Edwards came in, Worth was waiting for him in thehall. 

"Do we go now?" the older man asked, wincing. Worth nodded. 

"Take your machine, Jim, " he said. "We can park it at Fuller's and walkback from there. Boyne's roadster is in our garage. "

"Anything wrong with Eddie Hughes?" Edwards asked as he stepped in toget his driving gloves. "I passed him out there headed for town lugginga lot of freight, and the fellow growled like a dog when I spoke tohim. "

"I fired him. Come on, Jim--let's get out of this. "

"Hold on, Worth, " I took a hand. "Fired Hughes? When?"

"While I was fixing up that door--after you and Bobs came to the house. "

"What in God's name for?" I asked in exasperation. 

"For giving me back talk, " said the youth who never quarreled with anyone. 

He and Edwards tramped out together. I realized that the hostile son andan alienated friend had gone for a last look at the clay that hadyesterday been Thomas Gilbert. Of course Worth would do that before heleft Santa Ysobel. But would Edwards go in with him--or was he onlyalong to drive the machine? It might be worth my while to know. But Icould ask to-morrow; it wasn't worth a tired man's waiting up for. Wemust make an early start in the morning. I went upstairs to bed. 

CHAPTER XIV

SEVEN LOST DAYS

Instead of driving up to San Francisco with Worth and Barbara, the nextmorning, I was headed south at a high rate of speed. Sitting in thePullman smoker, going over what had happened and what I had made of it, vainly studying a small, blue blotter with some senseless hieroglyphicsreversed upon it, I wasn't at all sure that this move of mine wasanywhere near the right one. But the thing hit me so quick, had to bedecided in a flash, and my snap judgment never was good. 

We were all at breakfast there at the Gilbert house when I got the phonethat those boobs down in Los Angeles had let Skeels slip through theirfingers. I could see no way but to go myself. When I went out toretrieve my hand bag from the roadster, there was Barbara already in theseat. I delayed a minute to explain to her. She was full of eagerinterest; it seemed to her that Skeels ducking the detectives that waywas more than clever--almost worthy of a wonder man. 

"Slickest thing I ever knew, " I grumbled. "You can gamble I wouldn't begoing south after him if Skeels hadn't shown himself too many for theHicks agency--and they're one of the best in the business. "

Worth came out and settled himself at the wheel; he and Edwardsexchanged a last, low-toned word; and they were ready to be off. Barbara leaned towards me with shining eyes. 

"Perhaps, " she said, "Skeels might even be Clayte!" then the roadsterwhisked her away. 

The bulk of Worth Gilbert's fortune was practically tied up in thisaffair. Even as the Pullman carried me Los Angeles-ward, that boy wasgetting in to San Francisco, going to the bank, and turning over to themcapital that represented not only his wealth but his honor. If we failedto trace this money, he was a discredited fool. Yes, I had done right tocome. 

So far on that side. Then apprehension began to mutter within me aboutthe situation at Santa Ysobel. How long would that coroner's verdict ofsuicide satisfy the public? How soon would some seepage of fact indicatethat the death was murder and set the whole town to looking for amurderer? The minute this happened, the real criminal would take alarmand destroy evidence I might have gathered if I had stayed by the case. I promised myself that it should be simply "there and back" with me inthe Skeels matter. 

This is the way it looked to me in the Pullman; then--once in LosAngeles--I allowed myself to get hot telling the Hicks people what Ithought of them, explaining how I'd have run the chase, and wound up bygiving seven days to it--seven precious, irreclaimable days--whileeverything lay wide open there in the north, and I couldn't get anysatisfactory word from the office, and none of any sort from Worth. 

That Skeels trail kept me to it, with my tongue hanging out; again andagain I seemed to have him; every time I missed him by an hour or so;and that convinced me that he was straining every nerve, and that heprobably had the whole of the loot still with him. At last, I seemed tohave him in a perfect trap--Ensenada, on the Peninsula. You get into andout of Ensenada by steamboat only, except back to the mines on foot ordonkey. The two days I had to wait over in San Diego for the boat whichwould follow the one Skeels had taken were a mighty uneasy time. If I'dimagined for a moment that he wasn't on the dodge--that he was thereopenly--I'd have wired the Mexican authorities, and had him waiting forme in jail. But the Mexican officials are a rotten lot; it seemed to mebest to go it alone. 

What I found in Ensenada was that Skeels had been there, quite publicly, under his own name; he had come alone and departed with a companion, Hinch Dial, a drill operator from the mines, a transient, a pick-uplaborer, seemingly as close-mouthed as Silent Steve himself. Steve hadcome on one steamer and the two had left on the next. That north-boundboat we passed two hours off Point Loma was carrying Skeels and his palback to San Diego!

Again two days lost, waiting for the steamer back. And when I got to SanDiego, the trail was stone cold. I had sent Worth almost daily reportsin care of my office, not wanting them to lie around at Santa Ysobelduring the confusion of the funeral and all; but even before I went toEnsenada, telegrams from Roberts had informed me that these reportscould not be delivered as Worth had not been at the office, andtelephone messages to Santa Ysobel and the Palace Hotel had failed tolocate him. When I believed I had Skeels firmly clasped in the jaws ofthe Ensenada trap, I had sent a complete report of my doings up to thattime, and the optimistic outlook then, to Barbara with instructions forher to get it to Worth. She would know where he was. 

But she hadn't. Her reply, waiting at San Diego for me, a deliciouslittle note that somehow lightened the bitterness of my disappointmentover Skeels, told me that she had seen Worth at the funeral, almost aweek ago now, but only for a minute; that she had supposed he had joinedme on the Skeels chase; and she would now try to hunt him up and delivermy report. Roberts, too, had a line in one of his reports that Worth hadcalled for the suitcase on the Monday I left and had neither returned itnor been in the office since. 

I worried not at all over Worth; if he wanted to play hide and seek withDykeman's spotters, he was thoroughly capable of looking after himself;but in the Skeels matter, I did then what I should have done in thefirst place, of course; turned the work over to subordinates and headedstraight home. 

I reached San Francisco pretty well used up. It was nearly the middle ofthe forenoon next day when I got to my desk and found it piled high withmail that had accumulated in my absence. Roberts had looked after whathe could, and sorted the rest, ready for me. Everything concerning theClayte case was in one basket. As Roberts handed it to me, he explained. 

"The Van Ness bank attorney--Cummings--has been keeping tabs on youtight, Mr. Boyne. Here every day--sometimes twice. Wants to know theminute you're back. "

I grunted and dived into the letters. Nothing interesting. Responsesacknowledging receipts of my early inquiries. Roberts lingered. 

"Well?" I shot at him. He moved uneasily as he asked. 

"Did you wire him when you were coming back?"

"Cummings? No. Why?"

"He telephoned in just before you came saying that he'd be right up tosee you. I told him you hadn't returned. He laughed and hung up. "

"All right, Roberts. Send him in when he comes. " I dismissed thesecretary. Cummings was keeping tabs on me with a vengeance. What was onhis chest?

I didn't need to wait long to find out. In another minute he was at mydoor greeting me in an off-hand, "Hello, Boyne. Ready to jump into yourcar and go around with me to see Dykeman?"

"Just got down to the office, Cummings, " I watched him, trying to figureout where I stood and where he stood after this week's absence. "Haven'tseen Worth Gilbert yet. What's the rush with Dykeman?"

"You'll find out when you get there. "

Not very friendly, seeing that Cummings had been Worth's lawyer in thematter, and aside from that queer scene in my office, there'd been noactual break. He stood now, not really grinning at me, but with anamused look under that bristly mustache, and suggested, "So you haven't seen young Gilbert?"

The tone was so significant that I gave him a quick glance of inquiry asI said, "No. What about him?"

"Put on your coat and come along. We can talk on the way, " he replied, and I went with him to the street, dug little Pete out of the bootblackstand and herded him into the roadster to drive us. Cummings gave theorder for North Beach, and as we squirmed through and around congesteddown-town traffic, headed for the Stockton Street tunnel, I waited forthe lawyer to begin. When it came, it was another startling question, "Didn't find Skeels in the south, eh?"

I hadn't thought they'd carry their watching and trailing of us so far. I answered that question with another, "When did you see or hear from Worth Gilbert last?"

"Not since the funeral, " he said promptly, "the day before thefuneral--a week ago to-day, to be exact. I ran down to make my inventorythen; as administrator, you know. "

He looked at me so significantly that I echoed, "Yes, I know. "

"Do you? How much?" His voice was hard and dry; it didn't sound good tome. 

"See here, " I put it to him, as my clever little driver dodged in andout through the narrow lanes between Pagoda-like shops of Chinatown, avoiding the steep hill streets by a diagonal through the Italianquarter on Columbus Avenue. "If there's anything you think I ought to betold, put me wise. I suppose you raised that money for Worth--theseventy-two thousand that was lacking, I mean?"

"I did not. "

I turned the situation over and over in my mind, and at last askedcautiously, "Worth did get the money to make up the full amount, didn't he?"

We had swerved again to the north, where the Powell car-line curves intoBay Street, and were headed direct for the wharves. Cummings watched meout of the corners of his eyes, a look that bored in most unpleasantly, while he cross-examined, "So you don't know where he raised that money--or how--or when? Youdon't even know that he did raise it? Is that the idea?"

I gave him look for look, but no answer. An indecisive slackening of themachine, and Little Pete asked, "Where now, sir?"

"You can see it, " Cummings pointed. "The tall building. Hit theEmbarcadero, then turn to your right; a block to Mason Street. "

So close to the dock that ships lay broadside before its doors, mooredto the piles by steel cables, the Western Cereal Company plant scatteredits mills and warehouses over two city blocks. Freight trains ranthrough arcades into the buildings to fetch and carry its products;great trucks, some gas driven, some with four-and six-horse teams, loaded sacks or containers that shot in endless streams through wellworn chutes, or emptied raw materials that would shortly be breakfastfoods into iron conveyors that sucked it up and whined for more. It wasa place of aggressive activity among placid surroundings, this plant ofDykeman's, for its setting was the Italian fisherman's home district;little frame shacks, before which they mended their long, brown nets, orstretched them on the sidewalks to dry; Fisherman's Wharf and its lateenrigged, gayly painted hulls, was under the factory windows. 

We pulled up before the door of a building separate from any of themills or warehouses, and I followed Cummings through a corridor, pastmany doors of private offices, to the large general office. Here a youngman at a desk against the rail lent Cummings respectful attention; thelawyer asked something in a low tone, and was answered, "Yes, sir. Waiting for you. Go right through. "

Down the long room with its rattling typewriters, its buzz of clerks andsalesmen we went. Cummings was a little ahead of me, when he checked amoment to bow to some one over at a desk. I followed his glance. Thegirl he had spoken to turned her back almost instantly after she hadreturned his greeting; but I couldn't be mistaken. There might be morethan one figure with that slim, half girlish grace about it, and otherhair as lustrously blue-black, but none could be wound around a smallhead quite so shapely, carried with so blossomlike a toss. It wasBarbara Wallace. 

So this was where her job was. Strange I had not known this fact ofgrave importance. I went on past her unconscious back, left her workingat her loose-leaf ledgers, beside her adding machine, my mind a whirl ofugly conjecture. Dykeman's employee; that would instantly and verypainfully clear up a score of perplexing questions. Dykeman would needno detectives on my trail to tell him of my lack of success in theSkeels chase. Lord! I had sent her as concise a report as I couldmake--to her, for Worth. I walked on stupidly. In front of the last doorin the big room, Cummings halted and spoke low. 

"Boyne, you and I are both in the employ of the Van Ness Avenue Bank. We're somewhat similarly situated in another quarter; I'm representingthe Gilbert estate, and you've been retained by Worth Gilbert. "

I grunted some sort of assent. 

"I brought you here to listen to what the bank crowd has to say, butwhen they get done, I've something to tell you about that young employerof yours. You listen to them--then you listen to me--and you'll knowwhere you stand. "

"I'll talk with you as soon as I get through here, Cummings. "

"Be sure you do that little thing, " significantly, and we went in. 

CHAPTER XV

AT DYKEMAN'S OFFICE

We found Whipple with Dykeman. I had always liked the president of theVan Ness Avenue Bank well enough; one of the large, smooth, amiablesort, not built to withstand stress of weather, apt to be ratherhelpless before it. He seemed now mighty upset and worried. Dykemanlooked at me with hard eyes that searched me, but on the whole he wasfriendly in his greeting and inquiries as to my health. 

While I was getting out of my coat and stowing it, making a great dealof the process so as to gain time, I saw Cummings was exchanging lowspoken words with the two of them. I tried to keep my mind on these menbefore me and why I was with them, but all the while it would be runningback to the knock-out blow of seeing that girl in Dykeman's place. Shewas double-crossing Worth! I might have grinned at the idea that I'd letmyself be fooled by a pair of big, expressive, wistful, merry blackeyes; but I had seen the look in those same eyes when they were turnedon my boy; to think she'd look at him like that, and sell him out, wasagainst nature. It was hurting me beyond all reason. 

Whipple asked me about my trip south as though it was the most publicthing in the world and he knew its every detail, and accepted my replythat I couldn't take one man's pay and report to another, with, "Just so, Mr. Boyne. But your agency is retained--regularly, year byyear--by our bank. And our bank has given over none of its rights--Ishould say duties--in regard to the Clayte case. We stand ready toassist any one whose behavior seems to us that of a law-abiding citizen. We don't want to advance any criminality. We can't strike hands withoutlaws--"

"Tell him about the suitcase, Whipple, " Dykeman broke in impatiently, rather spoiling the president's oratorical effect. "Tell him about thesuitcase. "

The suitcase! Was this one of the things Barbara Wallace had let out toher employer? She could have done so. She knew all about it. 

"One moment, please, " I snapped. "I've been away for a week, Mr. Whipple. I don't know a thing of what you're talking about. Did CaptainGilbert fail to meet his engagement with you Monday morning?"

Whipple shook his head. 

"Mr. Dykeman wants you told about the suitcase, " he said. "I'd like tohave Knapp here when we go into that. "

Dykeman picked up the end of a speaking-tube and barked into it, "Send those men in. " In the moment's delay, we all sat uneasily mute. Knapp came in with Anson. As they nodded to us and settled into chairs, two or three others joined us. Nothing was said about this filling outof the numbers, but to me it meant serious business, with Worth Gilbertits motive. 

"Get it over, can't you?" I said, looking about from one to the other ofthe men, all directors in the bank. "I understand that Captain Gilbertmet his engagement with you; was he short of the sum agreed?" AgainWhipple shook his head. 

"Captain Gilbert walked into the bank at exactly ten o'clock Mondaymorning. The uh--uh--unusual arrangement--contract, to call it so--thatwe'd made with him concerning the defalcation would have expired in afew seconds, and I think I may say, " he looked around at the others, "that we should not have been sorry to have it do so. But he brought thesum agreed on. "

I drew a great sigh of relief. Worth's bargain was complete; he was donewith these men, anyhow. I was half out of my chair when Whipple said, sharply for him, "Sit down, Mr. Boyne. " And Dykeman almost drowned it in his, "Wait, there, Boyne! We're not through with you. "

"There's more to tell, " Whipple continued. "Captain Gilbert brought thateight hundred thousand cash and securities in a--er--in a very strangeway. "

"What d'you mean, strange way? airplane or submarine?" I growled. 

"He brought it, " Whipple's words marched out of him like a solemnprocession, "in a brown, sole-leather suitcase. "

"_With_ brass trimmings, " Dykeman supplemented, and leaned back in hischair with an audible "Ah-h-h!" of satisfaction. 

If ever a poor devil was flabbergasted, it was the head of the Boyneagency at that moment. I had a fellow feeling for that Mazeppa party whowas tied in his birthday suit to the back of a wild horse. Locoedbroncos were more amenable to rein than Worth Gilbert. So that was whyhe wanted that suitcase--"had a use for it, " he'd put it; insisted on anorder to be able to get it if I wasn't at my office; wanted it to shoveback at these scary bank officials, with his own money for the paymentinside. No wonder Whipple called him an "outlaw"!

"Get the idea, do you, Boyne?" Anson lunged at me in his ponderous way. "The rest of us thought 'twas a poor joke, but Knapp and Whipple hadboth seen that suitcase before--and recognized it. "

"Yes, " said Knapp quietly. "It chanced I saw it go through the door thatlast day, when it had nearly a million of our money in it. And here itwas--" his voice broke off. 

"Certainly startling, " Cummings spoke directly at me, "for them to seeit come back in Worth Gilbert's hands, with the same kind of filling, less one hundred and eighty seven thousand dollars. Of course, I didn'tknow the identity of the suitcase until they'd given Gilbert his receiptand he was gone. "

"Oh, they accepted his money?" I said, and every man in the room lookedsheepish, except Cummings who didn't need to, and Dykeman who was toomad to. He shouted at me, "Yes, we took it; and you're going to tell us where he got thatsuitcase. "

"What have your own detectives--those you hired on the side--to sayabout it?" I countered on him, and saw instantly that the Whipple end ofthe crowd hadn't known of Dykeman's spotters and trailers. 

"Well, why not?" Dykeman shrilled. "Why not? Who wouldn't shadow thatcrook? One hundred and eighty seven thousand dollars! Worked us likesuckers--come-ons--!" he choked up and began to cough. Cummings came inwhere he left off. 

"See here, Boyne; we don't want to antagonize you. You've said from thefirst that this crime was a conspiracy--a big thing--directed by brainson the outside. Clayte was the tool. Whose tool was he? That's what wewant to know. " And Anson trundled along, "These men who have been in the war get a contempt for law, there's nodoubt about it. Captain Gilbert might--"

"No names!" Whipple's hand went up in protest. "No accusations, gentlemen, please; Mr. Boyne--this is a dreadful thing. But, really, Captain Gilbert's manner was very strange. I might say he--"

"Swaggered, " supplied Cummings coolly as the president's voice lapsed. 

"Well, " Whipple accepted it, "he swaggered in and put it all over us. There he was, a man fresh from the deathbed of a suicide father; thatfather's funeral yet to occur. I, personally, hadn't the heart toquestion him or raise objections. I was dazed. "

"Dazed, " Dykeman snapped up the word and worried it, as a dog worries abone. "Of course, we were all dazed. It was so open, soshameless--that's why he got by with it. Making use of his position asheir, less than forty eight hours after his father was shot. "

"After his father shot himself, " Whipple's lowered tone was a plea. "After his father shot himself. "

"Huh!" snorted Dykeman. "If a man shoots himself, he's been shot, hasn't he? Hell! What's the use of whipping the devil round the stumpthat way? Boyne, you can stand with us, or you can fight us. "

"Boyne's with us--of course he's with us, " Whipple broke in, his words agood deal more confident than his tone or the look of his face. 

"Well, then, " Dykeman ground out, "when our thief of a teller splitsthat one hundred and eighty seven thousand with his man Gilbert--shutup, Whipple--shut up! You can't stop me--we're going to know about it. We'll get them both then, and send them across. And we'll recover onehundred and eighty seven thousand dollars that belongs to the Van NessAvenue bank. "

"_Good_ night!" I got to my feet. "This lets me out. I can't deal withmen who make a scrap of paper of their contracts as quick as yougentlemen do. "

"Stop, Boyne--you haven't got it all, " Dykeman ordered me. 

"Yes, wait, Mr. Boyne, " Whipple came in. "You haven't a fullunderstanding of the enormity of this young man's action. Mr. Cummingshas something to tell you which, I think, will--"

"Nothing Mr. Cummings can say, " I shut them off, "will alter the factthat I am employed by Captain Worth Gilbert at your recommendation--atyour own recommendation--that I have been away more than a week on hisbusiness, and have not yet had an opportunity to report to himpersonally. When I've seen him, I'll be ready to talk to you. "

"You'll talk now or never--" Dykeman's shrill threat was interrupted bythe shriller bell of the telephone. He yanked the instrument to him, and the "Hello!" he cried into it had the snap of an oath. He looked upand shoved the thing in my direction. "Calling for you, Boyne, " hesnarled. 

There was deathly stillness in the room, so that the whir of the greatstones in the mill came to us insistently. I stood there, they allwatching me, and spoke into the transmitter. 

"This is Boyne. "

"Hold the receiver close to your ear so it won't leak words. " Thewarning wasn't needed; I thought I knew the voice. "Press thetransmitter close to your chest. Listen--don't talk; don't say a word inreply to me. I'm in the telephone booth outside. I must see you just assoon as I can. I'll be at the Little Italy restaurant--you know, don'tyou? on Fisherman's Wharf--in ten minutes. If you can come, and alone, find me there. I'll wait an hour. If you can't come now, you _must_ seeme this evening after working hours. "

"I'll come now, " I raised the transmitter to say, and quickly over thewire came the answer, "I told you not to speak--in there! This is Barbara Wallace. "

CHAPTER XVI

A LUNCHEON

I went away from there. 

Looking about me, I had guessed that pretty much every man in the roombelieved that it was Worth Gilbert with whom I had been talking over thephone. Dykeman's trailers would be right behind me. Yet to the last, Whipple and his crowd were offering me the return trip end of my ticketwith them; if I would come back and be good, even now, all would beforgiven. I sized up the situation briefly and took my plunge, shuttingthe door after me, glancing across the long room to see that BarbaraWallace's desk was deserted. Nobody followed me from the room I had justleft. I walked quickly to the outer door. 

Little Pete switched on his engine as I leaped into the car. My "Let hergo!" wasn't needed to make him throw in his clutch, and give me a flyingstart straight ahead down the broad plank way of the Embarcadero. Looking back as we hit the belt-line tracks, I saw a small car with twomen in it, shoot out from one of the wide doorways of the plant; but aswe rounded the cliff-like side of Telegraph Hill, my view of them wascut off. Things had come for me thick and fast. I felt pretty wellballed up. But the girl had used secrecy in appointing this interview;till I could see further into the thing, it was anyhow a safe bet todrop them. 

"Pete, " I said, "lose that car behind us. Only ten minutes to slip themand land me at Fisherman's Wharf. Show me what-for. "

He grinned. Between Montgomery and the bay, north of California Street, there are many narrow byways, crowded with the heavy traffic ofhucksters and vegetable men, a section devoted to the commissionbusiness. Into its congestion Pete dove with a weasel instinct forfinding the right holes to slip through, the alleys that might benavigated in safety; in less than the ten minutes I'd specified, we werefree again on Columbus Avenue, pursuit lost, and headed back for therestaurant on the wharf. 

"Boss, " Little Pete was hoarse with the excitement he loved, as he laidthe roadster alongside the Little Italy, "was it on the level, what youfed the lawyer guy? Ain't you wise to where Captain Gilbert is? I've sawhim frequent since you've been gone. "

"How many times is 'frequent, ' Pete?" I asked. "And when did the last'frequent' happen?"

"Twice, " sulkily. I'd wounded his pride by not taking him seriously; buthe added as I jumped down from the machine. "I druv him up on the hill, 'round the place where you an' him--an' her--went that day. "

Pete didn't need to use Barbara Wallace's name. The way he salaamed tothe pronoun was enough; the swath that girl cut evidently reached fromthe cradle to the grave, with this monkey grinning at one end, and medoddering along at the other. 

I gave a moment to questioning Pete, found out all he knew, and wentinto the restaurant, wondering what under heaven Barbara Wallace wouldsay to me or ask me. 

The Little Italy restaurant is not so bad a place for luncheon. If onelikes any eatables the western seas produce, I heartily recommend it. Where fish are unloaded from the smacks by the ton, fish are sure to bein evidence, but they are nice, fresh fish, and look good enough to eat. And the Little Italy is clean, with white oil-clothed tables and a viewfrom its broad windows that down-town restaurants would double theirrent to get. 

Just now it was full of noisy patrons, foreigners, mostly; people toobusy eating to notice whether I carried my head on my shoulders or undermy arm. 

In a far corner, Barbara Wallace's eyes were on me from the minute Icame within her sight. She had ordered clams for two, mostly, I thought, to defend the privacy of our talk from the interruptions of a waiter, and I was hardly in my chair before she burst out, "Where's Worth? Why wasn't he in that office to defend himself againstwhat they're hinting?"

"I suppose, " I said dryly, "because he wasn't given an invitation toattend. You ought to know why. You work for Dykeman. "

"I work for Dykeman?" she repeated after me in a bewildered tone. "I'mbookkeeper in the Western Cereal Company's employ, if that's what youmean. You understood so from the first. "

"You know I didn't, " I reproached her hotly. "Do you think I'd have letyou on the inside of this case if I'd known it was a pipe line direct toDykeman?"

And on the instant I spoke there came to me a remembrance of her sayingthat Sunday morning as we pulled up before the St. Dunstan that she wentpast the place on the street car every day getting to her work at theWestern Cereal Company. Sloppy of me not to have paid better attention;I knew vaguely that Dykeman was in one of the North Beach mills. 

"Fifty-fifty, Barbara, " I conceded. "I should have known--made it mybusiness to learn. And Dykeman has questioned you--"

"He has not!" indignantly. "I don't suppose he knows Worth and I areacquainted. " I could have smiled at that. There were detectives' reportsin Dykeman's desk that recorded date, hour and duration of every meetingthis girl had had with Worth and with myself. Besides, Cummings knew. Itmust have been through Cummings that she learned what was about to takeplace in Dykeman's private office. What had she told Cummings?

I was ready to blurt out the question, when she fumbled in her bag withlittle, shaking hands, drew out and passed to me unopened the envelopeaddressed to Worth, with my detailed report of the Skeels chase. 

"I did my best to deliver it, " she steadied her voice as she spoke. "Hewasn't at the Palace. He wasn't at Santa Ysobel. He didn't communicatewith me here. "

My edifice of suspicion of Barbara Wallace crumbled. Cummings had notlearned through her that I was unsuccessful in the south; nor had shespilled a word to him that she shouldn't, or they'd have had the dope onwhere Worth had found that suitcase, and thrown it at me quick. 

"Barbara, " I said, "will you accept my apologies?"

"Oh, yes, " she smiled vaguely. "I don't know what you're apologizingfor, but it doesn't matter. I hoped you would bring me news of Worth--ofwhere he is. "

"When did you see him last?"

"On the day of the funeral. I hardly got to speak to him. "

Little Pete's news was slightly later. He'd taken Worth up to the GoldNugget and dropped him there. Thursday, Worth was at the Nugget for morethan an hour. On both occasions, Pete was told to slip the trailers, anddid. That meant that Worth was working on the Clayte case--or thought hewas. I told her of this. 

"Yes--Oh, yes, " she repeated listlessly. "But where is he now? And awfulthings--things like this meeting--coming up. "

"What besides this meeting?"

"At Santa Ysobel. "

"What? Things that have happened since the boy's gone? You couldn't getmuch idea of the lay of the land when you were down there Wednesday, could you?"

"Oh, but I could--I did, " earnestly. "Of course it was a large funeral;it seemed to me I saw everybody I'd ever known. At a time like that, nothing would be said openly, but the drift was all in one direction. They couldn't understand Worth, and so nearly every one who spoke ofhim, picked at him, trying to understand him. Mrs. Thornhill's cook wasalready telling that Worth had quarreled with his father and demandedmoney. I shouldn't wonder if by now Santa Ysobel's set the exact hour ofthe quarrel. "

"Me for down there as quick as I can, " I muttered, and Barbara, facingme sympathetically, offered, "I've a letter from Skeet Thornhill, " she groped in her bag again, mumbling as women do when they're hunting for a thing, "It came thismorning. .. . Mrs. Thornhill's no better--worse, I judge. .. . Oh, here itis, " and she pulled out a couple of closely scribbled sheets. "The childwrites a wild hand, " she apologized, as she passed these over. 

The flapper dashed into her letter with a sort of incoherent squeal. Thecarnival ball was only four days off. Everybody was already dead on his, her or its feet. The decorations they'd planned were enough to kill ahorse--let alone getting up costumes. "As usual, everything seems to begoing to the devil here, " she went on; "Got a cannery girl electedfestival queen this time. Ina's furious, of course. Moms had a letterfrom her that singed the envelope; but I sort of enjoy seeing thecannery district break in. They've got the money these days. "

Nothing here to my purpose. Barbara reached forward and turned the sheetfor me, and I saw Worth Gilbert's name half way down it. 

"Doctor Bowman is an old hell-cat, and I hate him. " Skeet made herpoints with a fine simplicity. "Since mother's sick, he comes here everyday, though what he does but sit and shoot off his mouth and get her allworked up is more than I can see. Yesterday I was in the room when hewas there, and he got to talking about Worth--the meanest, lowest-down, hinting talk you ever heard! Said Worth got a lot of money when hisfather died, and I flared up and said what of it? Did he think Mr. Gilbert ought to have left it to him? That hit him, because he and Mr. Gilbert used to be good friends, and he and Worth aren't. I sassed him, and he got so mad that just as he was leaving, he hollered at me that Ibetter ask Worth Gilbert where he was at the hour his father was shot. Now, what do you know about that? That man is spreading stories. Adoctor can set them going. He's making his messy old calls on people allday, and they, poor fish-hounds, believe everything he says. Thoughmother didn't. After he was gone, she just lay there in her bed and saidover and over that it was a lie, a foolish, dangerous lie! Poor mumsie, she's so nervous that when the grocer's truck had a blow-out down in thedrive, she nearly went into hysterics--cried and carried on, somethingabout it's being 'the shot. ' I suppose she meant the one when Mr. Gilbert killed himself. Wasn't that queer? Any loud noise of the sortsets her off that way. She lies and listens, and listens and mutters toherself. It scares me. " She closed with, "Please don't break yourpromise to be here through this infernal Bloss. Fes. "

"Good advice, that last, " I said slowly, as I laid the letter on thetable, keeping a hand on it. "You'll do that, won't you, Barbara?"

"I had intended to. I was given leave from this afternoon. But--well--I'd thought it over, and almost made up my mind to go back tomy desk. "

Barbara Wallace uncertain, halting between two courses of action! Whatdid it mean?

"See here, Barbara; this isn't a time for Worth Gilbert's friends toslacken on him. "

"I hadn't slackened, " she said very low. And left it for me to rememberthat Worth apparently had. 

"Then you're needed at Santa Ysobel, " I urged. 

"But you're going, aren't you, Mr. Boyne?"

"Yes. As soon as I can get off. That doesn't keep you from being needed. Worth's one of the most efficiently impossible young men I ever tried tohandle. Maybe he's not any fuller of shocks than any other live wire, but he sure does manage to plant them where they'll do the most harm. Cummings, Dykeman--and this Dr. Bowman down there; active enemies. "

"They can't hurt Worth Gilbert--all of them together!"

"Wait a minute. I'm going to Santa Ysobel to find the murderer of ThomasGilbert. That means a stirring to the depths of that little town. Thisunderneath-the-surface combustion will get poked into a flame--she'sgoing to burst out, and somebody's going to get burned. We don't wantthat to be Worth, Barbara. "

"No. But what can I do--what influence have I with him--" she wasbeginning, but I broke in on her. 

"Barbara, you and I are going to find the real murderer, before theCummings-Dykeman bunch discover a way into and out of that bolted study. Those people want to see Worth in jail. "

There was a long pause while she faced me, the rich color failing alittle in her cheeks. 

"I see, " speaking slowly, studying each word. "And as long as we didn'tfind out how to enter and leave the study, we have no way of knowing howhard or how easy it's going to be for them to find it out. We--" hervoice still lower--"we can't tell if they already know it or not. "

"Yes we can, " I leaned forward to say. "The minute they knowthat--Worth Gilbert will be charged with murder. "

I hit hard enough that time to bring blood, but she bled inwardly, sitting there staring at me, quite pale, finally faltering, "Well--I can't stop to think of his having followed Ina Vandemansouth--on her wedding trip--if he needs me--and I can help--I must--"she broke down completely, and I sat there feeling big-footed andblundering at this revelation of what it was that had put that clear, logical mind of hers off the track, left her confused, groping, just agirl, timid, distrustful of her own judgment where her heart wasconcerned. 

"Was that it all the time?" I asked. "Well, take it from me, Worth'sdone nothing of the sort. He's been playing detective, not chasing offafter some other man's bride. "

Up came the color to her cheeks, she reached that mite of a hand acrossto shake on the bargain with, "I'll go straight down this evening. You'll find me in Santa Ysobel whenyou come, Mr. Boyne. "

"At the Thornhills'?" It might be handy to have her there; but she shookher head, looking a little self-conscious. 

"I'm taking that spare room at Sarah Capehart's. Skeet wanted me, and Ihave an invitation from Laura Bowman; but if--well, seeing that thisinvestigation is going to cover all that neighborhood, I thought I'drather be with Sarah. "

The level-headed little thing! Pete and I had the pleasure of taking herout to her home where she had her packing to attend to. On the way shespoke of an engagement with Cummings for the theater Saturday night. 

"And instead, I suppose I shall be at the carnival ball. Shall I tellhim that in my note, Mr. Boyne? Is it all right to let him know?"

"It's all right, " I assented. "You can bet Cummings is due down there assoon as Worth shows up; and that must be soon, now. "

"Yes, " Barbara agreed. Her face clouded a little. "You noticed inSkeet's letter that they're expecting Ina to-morrow. "

Poor child--she couldn't get away from it. I patted the hand I had takento say good-by and assured her again, "Worth Gilbert hasn't been in the south. I wonder at you, Barbara. You're so clear headed about everything else--don't you see that thatwould be impossible?"

Then I drove back to my office, to find lying on my desk a telegram fromthe young man, dated at Los Angeles, requesting me to meet him at SantaYsobel the following evening!

CHAPTER XVII

CLEANSING FIRES

Wednesday evening I pulled into a different Santa Ysobel: lanternsstrung across between the buildings, bunting and branches of bloomeverywhere, streets alive with people milling around, and cars piledhigh with decorative material, crowded with the decorators. The carnivalof blossoms was only three days ahead. 

At Bill Capehart's garage they told me Barbara was out somewhere withthe crowd; and a few minutes later on Main Street, I met her in a Fordtruck. Skeet Thornhill was at the wheel, adding to the general risk oflife and limb on Santa Ysobel streets, carrying a half a dozen or moreother young things tucked away behind. Both girls shouted at me; theywere going somewhere for something and would see me later. 

Getting down toward the Gilbert place, just beyond the corner, I flushedfrom the shadows of the pepper trees a bird I knew to be one ofDykeman's operatives. Watching his carefully careless progress on pastthe Gilbert lawn, then the Vandeman grounds, my eye was led to a pairwho approached across the green from the direction of the bungalow. Nomistaking the woman; even at this distance, height and the clean sweepof her walk, told me that this was the bride, Ina Vandeman. And the manstrolling beside her--had he come with her from the house, or joinedher on the cross-cut path?--could that be Worth Gilbert?

I sat in the roadster and gaped. The evening light--behind them, and dimenough at best--made their countenances fairly indistinguishable. At thegap in the hedge, they paused, and Mrs. Vandeman reached out, broke offa flower to fasten in his buttonhole, looking up into his face, talkingquickly. Old stuff--but always good reliable old stuff. Then Worth sawme and hailed, "Hello, Jerry!" But he did not come to me, and I swungout of the machine to the sidewalk. 

I heard the sobbing of the Ford truck; it went by, missing myrunningboard by an inch, stopped at Vandeman's gate and Skeet dischargedher cargo of clamor to stream across the sidewalk and up toward thebungalow. I saw Barbara, in the midst of the moving figures, suddenlystop, knew she had seen the two over there, and crossed to her, with acheerful, "He's here all right. "

"Oh, yes, " not looking toward the gap in the hedge, or at me. "He cameon the same train with--with them. "

Then some one from the porch yowled reproachfully for her to fetch thosebanners _pronto_, and with a little catching of breath, she ran on upthe walk. 

I turned back. Worth and Ina had moved on. Bronson Vandeman, wellgroomed, dressed as though he had just come in off the golf links, hisEnglish shoes and loud patterned stockings differentiating him from thecrude outdoor man of the Coast, had joined them on the Gilbert lawn; hisgenial greeting to me let his bride get by with a mere bow, turning atonce back to her house by the front walk. But rather to my annoyance, Vandeman came bounding up the steps after us. I judged Worth must haveinvited him. 

Chung carried my suitcase upstairs, and lingered a minute in my room. I'll swear it wasn't merely to get the tip for which he thanked me, butwith the idea of showing me in some recondite, Oriental fashion that hewas glad I'd come. This interested me. The people who were glad to haveme in Santa Ysobel at this time belonged on the clean side of my ledger. Then I went downstairs to find Vandeman still in the living room, sprawled at ease beside the window, looking round with a display of hisfine teeth, reaching a hand to pull in the chair Worth set for me. 

"Well, Jerry, " that young man prompted, indicating by a careless gesturethe smokers' tray on the table beside me, "there is time before dinnerfor the tale of your exploits. How's my friend Steve?"

I began to select a cigar, and said shortly, "It's all in reports waiting for you at my office. "

"Yes. " Worth ignored my irritation. "Tell it. What'd you do down south?"

"Just back from the south yourself, aren't you?" I countered. 

"Sure, " airily. "But I wasn't there to butt in on your game. Did youfind that Skeels was Clayte?"

I merely looked over the flame of my match at that small-town societyman, smiling back at me with a show of polite interest. 

"Go on, " Worth interpreted. "Vandeman knows all about it. I tried tosell him a few shares of stock in the suitcase, so he'll take aninterest in the game; but he's too much the tight-wad to buy. "

"Oh, no, " deprecated Vandeman. "Just no gambler; hate to take a chance. "He ran his fingers through his hair, tossing it up with a gesture I hadnoticed when he came back from the dance at Tait's. 

"All right--apology accepted, " Worth nodded. "Anyway, you didn't. Well, Jerry?"

Vandeman waited a moment with natural curiosity, then, as I still saidnothing, giving my attention to my smoke, moved reluctantly to rise, saying, "That means I'd better chase along and let you two talk business. "

"No. Sit tight, " from Worth. 

I was mad clear through, and disturbed and apprehensive, too. I manageda brief, dry statement of the outcome in the south. Worth hailed itwith, "Skeels lurks in the jungle! Life still holds a grain of interest. "

"Why the devil couldn't you keep me advised of your movements?" Idemanded. 

"Dykeman's hounds, " he grinned. "Had them guessing. They'd have pickedme up if I'd gone to your office. "

"You could have written or wired. They've picked you up anyway, " Igrunted. "One's on the job now. Saw him as I came in. "

"Eh? What's that?" cried Vandeman, a man snooping in the shrubberyoutside getting more attention from him than one dodging pursuit threehundred miles away. "What do you mean, hounds?" and when he had heardthe explanation of Dykeman's trailers, "I call that intolerable!"

"Oh, I don't know. " Worth reached over my shoulder for a cigarette. "Lose 'em whenever I like. "

I wasn't so certain. There were men in my employ he couldn't shake. Perhaps those reports in Dykeman's desk might have offered somesurprises to this cock-sure lad. My exasperation at Worth mounted as Ilistened to Vandeman talking. 

"Those bank people should do one thing or another, " he gave his opinion. "Just because you got gay with them and handed them their payment in thesuitcase it left in, they've no right to have you watched like acriminal. In a small town like this, such a thing will ruin a man'sstanding. "

"If he has any standing, " Worth laughed. 

"See here, " Vandeman's smile was persuasive. "Don't let what I said outin front embitter you. "

"I'll try not to. "

"Mr. Boyne"--Vandeman missed the sarcasm--"when I got back to this townto-day, what do you suppose I found? The story going around that aquarrel with Worth, over money, drove his father to take his own life. "

"That's my business here, " I nodded. And when he looked his surprise, "To stop such stories. "

He stared at me, frankly puzzled for a moment, then said, "Well, of course you know, and I know, that they're scurrilous lies; butjust how will you stop them?"

I had intended my remark to stand as it was; but Worth filled in thepause after Vandeman's question with, "Jerry's here to get the truth of my father's murder, Bronse. "

"Murder?" The mere naked word seemed to shock Vandeman. His sort clotheand pad everything--even their speech. "I didn't know any oneentertained the idea your father was murdered. He couldn't havebeen--not the way it happened. "

"Nevertheless we think he was. "

"Oh, but Boyne--start a thing like that, and think of the talk it'llmake! They'll commence at once saying that there was nobody but Worth toprofit by his father's death. "

"Don't worry, Mr. Vandeman. " He made me hot. "We know where to dig upthe motive for the crime. "

"You mean the diaries?" Worth's voice sounded unbelievably from besideme. "Nothing doing there, Jerry. I've burned them. "

I sat and choked down the swears. Yet, looking back on it, I saw plainlythat Jerry Boyne was the man who deserved kicking. I ought never to haveleft them with him. 

"You read them and burned them?" said Vandeman. 

"Burned them without reading, " Worth's impatient tones corrected. 

"Without reading!" the other echoed, startled. Then, after a long pause, "Oh--I say--pardon me, but--but ought that to have been done? Surelynot. Worth--if you'd read your father's diaries for the past fewyears--I don't believe you'd have a doubt that he committed suicide--nota doubt. "

Worth sat there mute. Myself, I was rather curious as to what Vandemanwould say; I had read much in those diaries. But when it came, it wasthe same old line of talk one hears when there's a suicide: Gilbert wasa lonely man; his life hadn't been happy; he cut himself off from peopletoo much. Vandeman said that of late he believed he was pretty nearlythe only intimate the dead man had. This last gave him an interest inmy eyes. I broke in on his generalities to ask him bluntly why he was socertain the death was suicide. 

"Mr. Gilbert was breaking up; had been for two years or more. Worth'sbeen away; he's not seen it; but I can tell you, Boyne, his father'smind was affected. "

Worth let that pass, though I could see he wasn't convinced byVandeman's sentimentalities, any more than I was. After the man hadgone, I turned on Worth sharply, with, "Why the devil did you tell that pink-tea proposition about yourdealings with the Van Ness Avenue bank?"

"Safety valve, I guess. I get up too heavy a load of steam, and it'seasy to blow it off to Vandeman. Told him most of it in the smoker, coming up. You'll talk about anything in a smoker. "

"Oh, will you?" I said in exasperation. "And you'll burn anything, Isuppose, that a match'll set fire to?"

"Go easy, Jerry Boyne. " His chin dropped to his chest, he sat gloweringout through the window. "Cleansing fires for that sort of garbage, " hesaid finally. "I burned them on the day of his funeral. "

CHAPTER XVIII

THE TORN PAGE

My coming had thrown dinner late; we were barely through with the mealand back once more in the living room when the latch of the Frenchwindow rattled, the window itself was pushed open, and a high imperiousvoice proclaimed, "The Princess of China, calling on Mr. Worth Gilbert. "

There stood Ina Vandeman in the gorgeously embroidered robes of a highcaste Chinese lady, her fair hair covered by a sleek black wig thatstruck out something odd, almost ominous, in the coloring of her skin, the very planes of her features. Outside, along the porch, sounded thepatter of many feet; Skeet wriggled through the narrow frame under hertall sister's arm, came scooting into the room to turn and gaze back ather. 

"Doesn't she look the vamp?"

"Skeet!" Ina had sailed in by this time, and Ernestine followed moresoberly. "You've been told not to say that. "

"I think, " the other twin backed her up virtuously, "with poor mothersick and all, you might respect her wishes. You know what she said aboutcalling Ina a vamp. " And Skeet drawled innocently, "That it hit too near the truth to be funny--wasn't that it?"

Through the open window had followed a half dozen more of the BlossomFestival crowd, Barbara and Bronson Vandeman among them. Ina paid noattention to any one, standing there, her height increased by the long, straight lines of the costume, her bisque doll features given a strange, pallid dignity by the raw magnificence of its crusted purple and crimsonand green and gold embroidery and the dead black wig. 

"Isn't it an exquisite thing, Worth?" displaying herself before him. "Bronse has a complete Mandarin costume; we lead the grand march as theemperor and empress of Mongolia. Don't you think it's a good idea?"

"First rate. " Worth spoke in his usual unexcited fashion, and it wasdifficult to say whether he meant the oriental idea or the appearance ofthe girl who stood before him. She came close and offered the cuff ofone of her sleeves to show him the embroidery, lifting a delicate chinto display the jade buttons at the neck. 

Barbara over on the other side of the room refused to meet my eye. Mrs. Bowman, a big fur piece pulled up around her throat, shivered. I methalf a dozen Santa Ysobel people whose names I've forgotten. I could seethat Bronson Vandeman socially took the lead here, that everybody lookedto him. The room was a babel of talk, when a few minutes later thedoorbell rang in orthodox fashion, and Chung ushered Cummings in uponthe general confusion. Some of the bunch knew and spoke to him; othersdidn't and had to be presented; it took the first of his time andattention. He only got a chance for one swipe at me, a low-toned, sarcastic, "Made a mistake to duck me, Boyne. "

I didn't think it worth while to answer that. Presently I saw himstanding with Barbara. He was evidently effecting a switch of histheater engagement to the ball, for I heard Skeet's, "Mr. Cummings wants a ticket! He'll need two! Ten dollars, Mr. Cummings--five apiece. "

"No, no--Skeet, " Barbara laughed embarrassedly. "Mr. Cummings was justjoking. He'll not be here Saturday night. "

"I'll come back for it, " hand in pocket. 

"It's a masquerade--" Barbara hesitated. 

"Bring my costume with me from San Francisco. "

"I'm not sure--" again Barbara hesitated; Skeet cut in on her, "Why, Barbie Wallace! It's what you came to Santa Ysobel for--the Bloss. Fes. Ball. And to think of your getting a perfectly good man, right atthe last minute this way, and not having to tag on to Bronse and Ina orsomething like that! I think you're the lucky girl, " and she clutchedCummings' offered payment to stow it with other funds she had collected. 

At last they got themselves out of the room and left us alone withCummings. He had carried through his little deal with Barbara as thoughit meant considerable to him, but I knew that his errand with Worth wasserious, and put in quickly, "I intended to write or phone you to-morrow, Cummings. "

"Well, " the lawyer worked his mouth a bit under that bristly mustacheand looked at Worth, "it might have saved you some embarrassment ifyou'd been warned of my errand here to-night--earlier, that is. Isuppose Captain Gilbert has told you that I phoned him, when I failed toconnect with you, that I was coming here--and what I was coming for?"

"I didn't tell Jerry, " Worth picked up a cigarette. "Couldn't very welltell him what you were coming for. Don't know myself. "

The words were blunt; really I think there was no intention to offend, only the simple statement of a fact; but I could see Cummings beginningto simmer, as he inquired, "Does that mean you didn't understand my words on the phone, or that youunderstood them and couldn't make out what I meant by them?"

"Little of both, " allowed Worth. Cummings stepped close to him and lethim have it direct:

"I'm here to-night, Captain Gilbert, as executor of your father'sestate. I have filed the will to-day. I might have done so earlier, butwhen I inventoried this place (you remember, the day before thefuneral--you were here at the time) I failed to locate a considerableportion of your father's estate. "

"You failed to locate? All the estate's here; this house, the down-townproperties. What do you mean, failed to locate?"

"I was not alluding to realty, " said Cummings. "It's my duty to locateand report to the court the present whereabouts of seventy-five thousanddollars worth of stock in the Van Ness Avenue Savings Bank. Can youdeclare to me as executor, where it is? And, if any other person thanyour father placed it in its present whereabouts, are you ready todeclare to me how and when it came into that person's possession?"

"Quite a lot of words, Cummings; but it doesn't mean anything, " Worthsaid casually. "You know where that bank stock is and who put it there. "

"Officially, I do not know. Officially, I demand to be told. "

"Unofficially, answer it for yourself. " Worth turned his back on thelawyer to get a match from the mantel. 

"Very well. My answer is that I intend to find out how and when thatbank stock which formed a part of your payment to the Van Ness Avenuebank disappeared from this house. "

I admit I was scared. Here was the first gun of the coming battle; and Iwas sure this enemy, who stood now looking through half closed eyes atthe lad's back, would have poisoned gas among his weapons. He hademphasized the "_when_. " He believed that the stories of Worth's nightvisit to his father were true; that the implied denial by Barbara andmyself in my office, was false; that Worth had either received the stockfrom his father that Saturday night or taken it unlawfully. I was surethat it was the stock certificates which I had seen Worth take from thesafe-compartment of the sideboard in the small hours of Monday morning;a breach of legal form which it would be possible for a friendlyexecutor to pass over. 

"Cummings, Worth inherits everything under his father's will; what's thedifference about a small irregularity in taking possession? He--"

"Never explain, Jerry, " Worth shut me up. "Your friends don't need it, and your enemies won't believe it. "

Cummings had stood where he was since the first of the interview. Hisface went strangely livid. There was more in this than a legal fight. 

"Yes, Boyne's a fool to try to help your case with explanations, Gilbert, " he choked out. "I'll see that both of you get a chance toanswer questions elsewhere--under oath. Good evening. " He turned andleft. 

He had the best of it all around. I endeavored for some time to getbefore Worth the dangers of his high-handed defiance of law, order, probate judges, and the court's officers, in the person of Allen G. Cummings, attorney and his father's executor. He listened, yawned--andsuggested that it must be nearly bedtime. I gave it up, and we went--I, at least, with a sense of danger ahead upon me--to our rooms. 

Along in the middle of the night I waked to the knowledge that acasement window was pounding somewhere in the house. For a while I layand listened in that helpless, exaggerated resentment one feels at sucha time. I'd drop off, get nearly to sleep, only to be jerked broad awakeagain by the thudding. Listening carefully I decided that the bothersomewindow was in Worth's room, and finally I got up sense and spunk enoughto roll out of bed, stick my feet into slippers, and sneak over with theintention of locking it. 

The room was dimly lighted from the street lamps, far away as they were;I made my way across it. Worth's deep, regular breathing was quiteundisturbed. I had trouble with the catch, went and felt over the bureauand found his flashlight, fixed the window by its help, and returningit, remembering how near I came to knocking it off the bureau top, thought to put it in a drawer which stood half open. 

As I aimed it downward, its circle of illumination showed somethingprojecting a corner from beneath the swirl of ties and sheaf ofcollars--a book--a red morocco-bound book. Mechanically I nudged thestuff away with the torch itself. What lay there turned me cold. It wasthe 1920 diary!

My fingers relaxed; the flashlight fell with a thump, as I let out anexclamation of dismay. A sleepy voice inquired from the bed, "Hi, you Jerry! What you up to in here?"

For answer, I dragged out the book, went over to the bed, and switchedon the reading lamp there. Worth scowled in the glare, and flung hisarms up back of his head for a pillow to raise it a bit. 

"Yeah, " blinking amiably at the volume. "Meant to tell you. Found itto-day when I was down in the repair pit at the garage. It had beenstuck in the drainpipe there. "

"And I suppose, " I said savagely, "that if I hadn't come onto it now, you'd have burned this, too. "

"Don't get sore, Jerry, " he said. "I saved it, " and he yawned. 

I had an uncontrollable impulse to have a look at that last entry, whichwould record the bitter final quarrel between this boy and his father. No difficulty about finding the spot; as I raised the book in my handsit fell open of itself at the place. I looked and what I saw chokedme--got cross-wise in my throat for a moment so no words could come out. I stuck the book under his nose, and held it there till I could whisper. 

"Worth, did you do this?"

The last written page was numbered 49; on it was recorded the date, March sixth; the weather, cloudy, clearing late in the afternoon; thefact that the sun had set red in a cloudless sky; and it ended abruptlyin the middle of a phrase. The leaf that carried page 50 had been tornout; not cut away carefully as were those leaves in the earlier book, but ripped loose, grabbed with clutching fingers that scarred andtwisted the leaf below!

He shoved my hand away and stared at me. For a moment I thoughteverything was over. Certainly I could not be a very appealing sight, standing there sweating with fear, my hair all stuck up on my head whereI'd clawed it, shivering in my nightclothes more from miserablenervousness than from cold; but somehow those eyes of his softened; hegave me one of the looks that people who care for Worth will go far toget, and said quietly, "You see what you're doing? I told you I didn't steal the book, so thatclears me in your mind of being the murderer. Now you're after me aboutthis torn-out page. If I'd torn it out and stolen it--you and I wouldknow what it would mean. "

"But, boy--, " I began, when he suffered a change of heart. 

"Get out of here! Take that damn book and leave. "

He heaved himself over in the bed, hunching the covers about his ears, turning his back on me. As I crept away, I heard him finish in a sort ofmutter--as though to himself--

"I'm sorry for you, Jerry Boyne. "

CHAPTER XIX

ON THE HILL-TOP

Morning dawned on the good ship Jerry Boyne not so dismasted andrudderless as you might have thought. I'd carried that 1920 diary to myroom and, before I slept, read the whole of it. This was the last wordwe had from the dead man; here if anywhere would be found support forthe suggestions of a weakening mind and suicide. 

Nothing of that sort here; on the contrary, Thomas Gilbert was very muchhis clear-headed, unpleasant, tyrannical self to the last stroke of thepen. But I came on something to build up a case against Eddie Hughes, the chauffeur. 

I didn't get much sleep. As soon as I heard Chung moving around, I wentdown, had him give me a cup of coffee, then stationed him on the backporch, and walked to the study, shut myself in, and discharged my heavypolice revolver into a corner of the fireplace; then with the front dooropen, fired again. 

"How many shots?" I called to Chung. 

"One time shoot. "

Worth's head poked from his upstairs window as he shouted, "What's the excitement down there?"

"Trying my gun. How many times did I fire?"

"Once, you crazy Indian!" and the question of sound-proof walls wassettled. Nobody heard the shot that killed Gilbert twenty feet awayfrom the study if the door was closed. Mrs. Thornhill's ravings, asdescribed in Skeet's letter to Barbara, were merely delirium. 

I walked out around the driveway to the early morning streets of SantaYsobel. The little town looked as peaceful and innocent as a pan ofmilk. In an hour or so, its ways would be full of people rushing aboutgetting ready for the carnival, a curious contrast to my own business, sinister, tragic. It seemed to me that two currents moved almost as one, the hidden, dark part under--for there must be those in the town whoknew the crime was murder; the murderer himself must still be here--andthe foam of noisy gayety and blossoms riding atop. A Blossom Festival;the boyhood of the year; and I was in the midst of it, hunting amurderer!

An hour later I talked to Barbara in the stuffy little front room atCapehart's, brow-beaten by the noise of Sarah getting breakfast on theother side of the thin board partition; more disconcerted by the girl'smanner of receiving the information of how I had found the 1920 diaryhidden in Worth's bureau drawer. There was a swift, very personal angerat me. I had to clear myself instantly and thoroughly of any suspicionof believing for a moment that Worth himself had stolen or mutilated thebook, protesting, "I don't--I don't! Listen, Barbara--be reasonable!"

"That means 'Barbara, be scared!' And I won't. When they're scared, people make mistakes. "

"You might see differently if you'd been there last night when Cummingsmade his charge against Worth. That seventy two thousand dollars Worthcarried up to the city Monday morning, he had taken from his father'ssafe the night before. "

For a minute she just looked at me, and not even Worth Gilbert'sdare-devil eyes ever held a more inclusively defiant light than thosebig, soft, dark ones of hers. 

"Well--wasn't it his?"

"All right, " I said shortly. "I'm not here to talk of Worth's financialmethods; they're scheduled to get him into trouble; but let that pass. Look through this book and you'll see who it is I'm after. "

She had already opened the volume, and began to glance along the pages. She made a motion for me to wait. I leaned back in my chair, and it wasonly a few moments later that she looked up to say, "Don't make the arrest, Mr. Boyne. You have nothing here againstEddie--for murder. "

Because I doubted myself, I began to scold, winding up, "All the same, if that gink hasn't jumped town, I'll arrest him. "

"It would be a good deal more logical to arrest him if he had jumped thetown, " Barbara reminded me. "If you really want to see him, Mr. Boyne, you'll find him at the garage around on the highway. He's working forBill. "

That was a set-back. A fleeing Eddie Hughes might have been hopeful; anEddie Hughes who gave his employer back-talk, got himself fired, andthen settled down within hand-reach, was not so good a bet. Barbara sawhow it hit me, and offered a suggestion. 

"Mr. Boyne, Worth and I are taking a hike out to San Leandro canyon thisafternoon to get ferns for the decorating committee. Suppose you comealong--anyhow, a part of the way--and have a quiet talk, all alone withus. Don't do anything until you have consulted Worth. "

"All right--I'll go you, " I assented, and half past two saw the three ofus, Worth in corduroys and puttees, Barbara with high boots and short, dust-brown skirt, tramping out past the homes of people toward the opencountry. At the Vandeman place Skeet's truck was out in front, piledwith folding chairs, frames, light lumber, and a lot of decorativestuff. The tall Chinaman came from the house with another load. 

"You Barbie Wallace!" the flapper howled. "Aren't you ashamed to bewalking off with Worth and Mr. Boyne both, and good men scarce as hen'steeth in Santa Ysobel to-day!"

"I'm not walking off with them--they're walking off with me, " Barbaralaughed at her. 

"Shameless one!" Skeet drawled. "I see you let Mr. Cummings have a dayoff--aren't you the kind little boss to 'em!"

I just raised my brows at Barbara, and she explained a bit hastily, "Skeet thinks she has to be silly over the fact that Mr. Cummings hasgone up to town, I suppose. " She added with fine indifference, "He'll beback in the morning. "

"You bet he'll be back in the morning, " Worth assured the world. 

"Now what does he mean by that, Mr. Boyne?"

"He means Cummings is out after him. "

"I don't, " Worth contradicted me personally. "I mean he's after Bobs. She knows it. Look at her. "

She glanced up at me from under her hat-brim, all the stars out in thoseshadowy pools that were her eyes. The walk had brought sumptuous colorto her cheeks, where the two extra deep dimples began to show. 

"You both may think, " she began with a sobriety that belied the dimplesand shining eyes, "looking on from the outside, that Mr. Cummings has anidea of, as Skeet would say, 'rushing' me; but when we're alonetogether, about all he talks of is Worth. "

"Bad sign, " Worth flung over a shoulder that he pushed a little inadvance of us. "Takes the old fellows that way. Their notion of fallingfor a girl is to fight all the other Johnnies in sight. Guess you've gothim going, Bobs. "

I walked along, chewing over the matter. She'd estimated Cummingsfairly, as she did most things that she turned that clear mind of herson; but her lack of vanity kept her from realizing, as I did, that hewas in the way to become a dangerous personal enemy to Worth. Hisself-interest, she thought, would eventually swing him to Worth's side. She didn't as yet perceive that a motive more powerful thanself-interest had hold of him now. 

"Why, Mr. Boyne, " she answered as though I'd been speaking my thoughtsaloud, "I've known Mr. Cummings for years and years. He never--"

"You said a mouthful there, Bobs. " Worth halted, grinning, to interrupther. "He never--none whatever. But he has now. "

"He hasn't. "

"Leave it to Jerry. Jerry saw him that first night in at Tait's; thenafterward, in the office. "

"Oh, come on!" Barbara started ahead impatiently. "What difference wouldit make. "

They went on ahead of me, scrapping briskly, as a boy and girl do whohave grown up together. I stumped along after and reflected on the follyof mankind in general, and that of Allen G. Cummings in particular. Thatcareful, mature bachelor had seen this lustrous young creature blossomto her present perfection; he'd no doubt offered her safe and saneattention, when she came to live in San Francisco where they had friendsin common. But it had needed Worth Gilbert's appearance on the scene towake him up to his own real feeling. Forty-five on the chase of nimblesweet and twenty; Cummings was in for sore feet and humiliatingtumbles--and we were in for the worst he could do to us. I sighed. Worthhad more than one way of making enemies, it seemed. 

At last we came in sight of the country club upon its rise of groundoverlooking the golf links. The low, brown clubhouse, built bungalowfashion, with a long front gallery and gravel sweep, was swarming withpeople--the decorators. Motors came and went. The grounds were beingstrung with paper lanterns. We skirted these, and the links itself wherethere were two or three players, obstinate, defiant old men who wouldhave their game in spite of forty blossom festivals--climbed a fence, and crossed the grass up to the crest of a little round hill, haltingthere for the view. It wasn't high, but standing free as it did, itcommanded pretty nearly the entire Santa Ysobel district. Massed acresof pink and white, the great orchards ran one into the other withoutbreak for miles. The lanes between the trunks, diamonded like aharlequin's robe in mathematical primness, were newly turned furrows ofrich, black soil, against which the gray or, sometimes, whitewashedtrunks of apricot, peach and plum trees gave contrast. Then the cap ofglorious blossoms, meeting overhead in the older orchards, with a warmblue sky above and puffs of clouds that matched the pure white of theplum trees' bloom. 

The spot suited me well; we had left the town behind us; here neitherDykeman's spotter nor any one he hired to help him could get withinlistening distance, I dropped down on a bank; Worth and Barbara disposedthemselves, he sprawling his length, she sitting cross-legged, justbelow him. 

It wasn't easy to make a beginning. I knew it wouldn't do me anyparticular good with Worth to dwell on his danger. But I finally managedto lay fairly before them my case against Eddie Hughes, and I must saythat, as I told it, it sounded pretty strong. 

I didn't want to put too much stress on having found my evidence in thediaries; I knew Worth was as obstinate as a mule, and having said thathe would not stand for any one being prosecuted on their evidence, he'dstick to it till the skies fell. I called on my memory of those pages, now unfortunately ashes and not get-atable, and explained that Worth'sfather hired Hughes directly after a jail-break at San Jose had rousedthe whole country. Three of the four escapes were rounded up in thecourse of a few days, but the fourth--known to us as Eddie Hughes--wassafe in Thomas Gilbert's garage, working there as chauffeur, having beenemployed without recommendation on the strength of what he could do. 

"And the low wages he was willing to take, " Worth put in drily. "Oldstuff, Jerry. I wasn't sure till you spilled it just now that my fatherwas wise to it. But I knew. What you getting at?"

"Just this. When I talked to Hughes that first night I came down herewith you, while we all supposed the death a suicide, he couldn't keephis resentment against your father, his hatred of him, from boiling overevery time he was mentioned. "

"Get on, " said Worth wearily. "Father hired a jail-bird that came cheap. Probably put it to himself that he was giving the man a chance to gostraight. "

I glanced up. This was just about what I remembered Thomas Gilbert tohave said in the entry that told of the hiring of Eddie. Worth noddedgrimly at my startled face. 

"Eddie's gone straight since then, " he filled in. "That is, he's keptout of jail, which is going straight for Eddie. He'd certainly hate theman who held him as he's been held for five years. Not motive enough formurder though. "

"There's more. The 1920 diary you gave me last night tells when and whythe extra bolts were put on the study doors. Your father had beenmissing liquor and cigars and believed Hughes was taking them. "

"Pilfering!" with an expression of distaste. "That doesn't--"

"Hold on!" I stopped him. "On February twelfth your father left money, marked coin and paper money, as if by accident, on the top of the liquorcabinet; not exposed, but dropped in under the edge of the big ash trayso it might look as though it were forgotten--in a sense, lost there. "

"How much?" came the quick question. 

"Fifty one dollars. " He looked around at me. 

"Just one dollar above the limit of petty larceny; a hundred cents addedto put it in the felony class that meant state's prison. So he couldhave sent Eddie to the pen, --eh? I guess you've got a motive there, Boyne. "

"Well--er--" I squirmed over my statement, blurting out finally. "Hughesdidn't take the money. "

"Knew it was a trap, " Worth's laugh was bitter. "And hated the man whocold-bloodedly set it to catch him. If he didn't take it, don't youthink he counted it?"

"Worth, " I said sharply. "Your father put those bolts on--and continuedto find that he was being robbed. He was mad about it. Any man would be. Say what you will, no one likes to find that persons in his employ arestealing from him. The aggravating thing was that he couldn't bring ithome to Hughes, though he was sure of the fact. "

"So he went back to what he had known of Eddie when he hired him? Afterprofiting by it for five years, he was going to rake that up?"

"He was, "--a bit nettled--"and well within his rights to do so. Threeweeks before he was shot, he wrote that he'd started the inquiry. Therewas no further mention of the matter in the book as it stands, but don'tyou see that the result of the inquiry must have been on that torn-outlast page? Eddie's Saturday night alibi won't hold water. His cannerygirl, of course, will swear he was with her; but there's nocorroborating testimony. No one saw them together from nine tilltwelve. "

Dead silence dropped on us, with the white clouds standing likewitnesses in the blue above, the wind bringing now and again on itsscented wings little faint echoes of the noise down at the clubhouse. 

"What more do you want?" Both young faces were set against me, cold andhostile. "Here was motive, opportunity, a suspect capable of the deed. My theory is that Mr. Gilbert came in on Hughes, caught him in the actof stealing from the cabinet. Hughes jumped for the pistol over thefireplace, got it, fired the fatal shot, and placed the dead man'sfingers about the butt of the gun. Then he picked up the diary lying onthe table, tore out the leaf about himself, and poked the rest of thebook down the drain pipe. "

"And the shot?" Worth resisted me. "Why didn't the shot bring Chung onthe run?"

"Because he couldn't hear it. Nobody'd hear it ten paces away. That'swhat I was trying out this morning. You told me I'd fired once. Well, Ifired twice; once with the door shut, and neither you nor Chung heardit; afterward, with the door open--the report you registered. "

"The blotter--and it had been used on that last page--showed no words tostrengthen this theory of yours, " said Barbara as confidently as thoughthe little blue square had been clear print, instead of broken blurring. Perhaps it was clear to her. I was glad I'd given it a thoroughreëxamination the night before. 

"I think it does, " I struggled against the tide, manfully, buoyingmyself up with the tracing of the blotter. "Here's the word 'demanded, 'reasonably connected with the affair. The letters 'ller' may be the lastend of 'caller, ' or possibly 'fuller'; I noticed Gilbert spoke in aformer entry of the bottle in the cabinet and Hughes snitching from it, and used the word 'fuller. ' Here's the word 'Avenue, ' complete, andLizzie Watkins, Hughes' girl, lives on Myrtle Avenue. "

The silence after that was fairly derisive. Worth broke it with animpatient, "And the fact of the bolted doors throws all that stuff out. "

"Well, " I grunted, "Barbara deduced the slipping of some bolts to pleaseyou once--why can't she again?"

"Mr. Boyne, " the girl spoke quickly, "it wouldn't help you a bit to beassured that Eddie Hughes could enter the study and leave it boltedbehind him when he went out--help you to the truth, I mean. These factsyou've gathered are all wabbly; they'll never in the world fit in trimand true. They're hardly facts at all. They're partial facts. "

"Wouldn't help me?" I ejaculated. "It would cinch a case against him. We've got to have some one in jail, and that shortly. We're forced to. "

"Forced?" Worth had sat up a little and reached far forward for a stonethat lay among the weeds down there. He spoke to me sidewise with achallenging flicker of the eye. Barbara kept her lips tight shut. 

"I need a prisoner, " trying to correct my error; then burst out, "MyLord, children! An arrest isn't going to hurt a man like Hughes, --evenif he proves to be innocent. It's an old story to him. Barbara, you saidyourself that the man who stole the 1920 diary was the murderer. "

"But I didn't say Eddie Hughes stole it. " Her tone was significant, andit checked me. I couldn't remember what the deuce she had said thatnight. There recurred to me her mimicry of a woman's voice--LauraBowman's as I believed--to determine through Chung who Thomas Gilbert'sfeminine visitor had been. Should that clue have been followed up beforeI moved on Eddie Hughes? Even as I got to this point, I heard Worth, punctuating his remarks with the whang of his rock on the bit of twig hewas pounding to pieces, "Boyne, I won't stand for any arrest being made except in allsincerity--the person you honestly believe to be the criminal. "

"Does that mean you forbid me, in so many words, to proceed againstHughes on what I've got?"

"It does, " Worth said. "You're not convinced yourself. Leave it alone. "

"'Nough said!" I jumped to my feet. If he wouldn't let me lay hands onHughes--there was nothing to do but go after the next one. "You two runalong. Get your ferns. There's a man at the club here I have to see. "

Barbara was afoot instantly; Worth lay looking at her for a moment, then heaved himself up, shook his shoulders, and stood beside her. 

"Race you to the foot of the hill, " she flashed up at him. 

"You're on, " he chuckled. "I'll give you a running start--to the treedown there--and beat you. "

They were off. She ran like a deer. Worth got away as though he was inearnest. He caught her up just at the finish; I couldn't see which won;but they walked a few rods hand in hand. 

Something swelled in my throat as I watched them away: life'sspringtime--and the year's; boy and girl running, like kids that hadnever known a fear or a mortal burden, over an earth greener than anyother, because its time of verdure is brief, dreaming already of thegolden-tan of California midsummer, under boughs where tree blooms madeall the air sweet. 

For sake of the boy and the girl who didn't know enough to take care oftheir own happiness, I wheeled and galloped in the direction of thecountry club. 

There is an institution known--and respected--in police circles as theHoly Scare. I was determined to make use of it. I'd throw a holy scareinto a man I knew, and see what came out. 

CHAPTER XX

AT THE COUNTRY CLUB

The country club, when I walked up its lawn, was noisy with thehammering and jawing of its decoration committee. Out in the glassbelvedere, like superior goods on display, taking it easy while everyone else worked, I saw a group of young matrons of the smart set, InaVandeman among them, drinking tea. The open play she was making at Worthtroubled me a little. He was the silent kind that keeps you guessing. She'd landed him once; what was to hinder her being successful with thesame tactics--whatever they'd been--a second time?

Then I saw Edwards' car was still out in the big, crescent driveway, showing by the drift of twigs and petals on its running board that ithad been used to bring in tree blooms from his ranch; the man himselfcrossed the veranda, and I hailed, "Any place inside where you and I could have a private word together?"

"I--I think so, Boyne, " he hesitated. "Come on back here. "

He led me straight across the big assembly room which was being trimmedfor the ball. From the top of a stepladder, Skeet Thornhill yelled tous, "Where you two going? Come back here, and get on the job. "

She had a dozen noisy assistants. I waved at her from the further dooras we ducked. Strange that honest, sound little thing should be ownsister to the doll-faced vamp out there in the showcase. 

Edwards made for a little writing room at the end of a corridor. Ifollowed his long, nervous stride. If the man had been goaded to theshooting of Thomas Gilbert, it would have been an act of passion, and bypassion he would betray himself. When I had him alone, the door shut, Iwent to it, told him we knew the death was murder, not suicide, and thatthe crime had been committed early Saturday night. Before I couldconnect him with it, he broke in on me, "Is Worth suspected?"

"Not by me, " I said. "And by God, not by you, Edwards! You know betterthan that. "

I held his eye, but read nothing beyond what might have been the flareof quick anger for the boy's sake. 

"Who then?" he said. "Who's dared to lisp a word like that? That houndCummings--chasing around Santa Ysobel with Bowman--is that where itcomes from? I told Worth the fellow was knifing him in the back. " Hebegan to stride up and down the room. "The boy's got otherfriends--that'll go their length for him. I'm with him till hell freezesover. You can count on me--"

"Exactly what I wanted to find out, " I cut in, so significantly that hewhirled at the end of his beat and stared. 

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you are the one man who could clear Worth Gilbert of allsuspicion. "

"_What do you know?_"

The big voice had come down to a mere whisper. Plenty of passion now--apassion of terror. I spoke quickly. 

"We know you were in the study that night, with a companion, " and Ipiled out the worst of his affair, as I'd read it in the diaries, winding up, "Plain what brought you there. Quarrel? Motive? Don't need to look anyfurther. "

Before I was done Jim Edwards had groped over to a chair and slumpedinto it. A queer, toneless voice asked, "Worth sent you to me--a detective--with this?"

"No, " I said. "I'm acting on my own. "

"And against his will, " it came back instantly. 

"What of it?" I demanded. "Are you the coward to take advantage of hissense of honor?--to let his generosity cost him his life?"

"His life. " That landed. Watching, I saw the struggle that tore him. Hejumped up and started toward me; I hadn't much doubt that I was nowgoing to hear a plea for mercy--a confession, of sorts--as he stopped, dropped his head, and stood scowling at the floor. 

"Talk, " I said. "Spill it. Now's your time. "

He raised his eyes to mine and spoke suddenly. 

"Boyne--I have nothing to say. "

"And Worth Gilbert can hang and be damned to him--is that it?" I tookanother step toward him. "No, Edwards, that 'nothing to say' stuff won'tgo in a court of law. It won't get you anywhere. "

"They'll never in the world--try Worth for--that killing. "

"I'm expecting his arrest any hour. "

"A trial! Those cursed diaries of Tom's brought into court--My God! Ibelieve if I'd known he'd written things like that, I could have killedhim for it!"

I stared. He had forgotten me. But at this speech I mentally dropped himfor the moment, and fastened my suspicions on the woman who went withhim to the study. 

"All right, " I said brutally. "You didn't kill Thomas Gilbert. But youtook Mrs. Bowman to the study that night to have it out with him, andget six pages from the 1916 book. She got 'em--and you know what she hadto do to get 'em. "

"Hold on, Boyne!" he said sternly. "Don't you talk like that to me. "

"Well, " I said, "Mrs. Bowman was there--after those diary leaves. Iheard Barbara Wallace imitate her voice--and Chung recognized theimitation. You know--that night at the study--the first night. "

He took a bewildered moment or two for thought, then broke out, "It wasn't Laura's voice Barbara imitated. Did she say so?"

"No, but she imitated the voice of a woman who came weeping to get thosepages from the diary; and who else would that be? Who else would wantthem?"

"You're off the track, Boyne, " he drew a great, shuddering sigh ofrelief. "Tom was always playing the tyrant to those about him; no doubtsome woman did come crying for that stuff--but it wasn't Laura. "

"By Heaven!" I exclaimed as I looked at him. "You know who it was! Yourecognized the voice that night--but the woman isn't one you'reinterested in. "

"I'm interested in all women, so far as their getting a decent show inthe world is concerned, " he maintained sturdily. "I'd go as far as anyman to defend the good name of a woman--whether I thought much of her ornot. "

"This other woman, " I argued, not any too keen on such a job myself, "hasn't she got some man to speak for her?"

Edwards looked at me innocently. 

"She didn't have, then--" he began, and I finished for him, "But she has now. I've got it!" As I jumped up and hurried to the door, his eyes followed me in wonder. There I turned with, "Stay right whereyou are. I'll be back in a minute, " ducked out into the hall andsignaled a passing messenger, then stepped quickly back into the writingroom and said, "I've sent for Bronson Vandeman. "

He settled deeper in his chair with, "I'll stay and see it out. If you get anything from Vandeman, I miss myguess. "

CHAPTER XXI

A MATTER OF TASTE

Upon our few moments of strained waiting, Vandeman breezed in, full ofapologies for his shirtsleeves. I remember noticing the monogram workedon the left silken arm, the fit and swing of immaculate trousers, assmoothly modeled to the hip as a girl's gown; his ever smiling face; theslightly exaggerated way he wiped fingers already clean on ahandkerchief pulled from a rear pocket. He was the only unconstrainedperson in the room; he hardly looked surprised; his glance was merelyinquiring. Edwards apparently couldn't stand it. He jumped up and beganhis characteristic pacing of one end of the constricted place, jerkingout as he walked, "Bronse, it's my fault that Boyne sent for you. He's working on thistrouble of Worth's, you know. He's had me in here, grilling me, shakingme over hell; and something I said--God knows why--sent him after you. "

"Trouble of Worth's!" Vandeman had been about to sit; his half bentknees straightened out again; he stood beside the chair and spokeirritably. "Told you, Boyne, if you meddled with that coroner's verdictyou'd get your employer in the devil of a tight place. Nobody had anyreason for wanting Worth's father out of the way--except Worth, himself. Frankly, I think you're wrong. But everything that I can do--ofcourse--"

"All right, " I said, letting it fly at him. "Where was your wife fromseven to half past nine on the evening of Gilbert's murder?"

Back went his head; out flashed all the fine teeth; the man laughed inmy face. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Boyne. I understand that this is serious--nothing funnyabout it--but really, you know, recalling the date, what you've said isamusing. My dear man, " he went on as I stared at him, "please remember, yourself, where Ina was on that particular evening. "

"The wedding and reception were done with by seven o'clock, " I objected. This ground was familiar with me. I'd been over it in considering whatopportunity Laura Bowman would have had for a call on Thomas Gilbert atthe required hour. If she could slip away for it, why not Ina Vandeman?As though he read my thoughts and answered them, Vandeman filled in, "A bride, you know, is dead certain to have at least half a dozenpersons with her every minute of the time until she leaves the house onher wedding trip. Ina did, I'm sure. We'll just call her in, and she'llgive you their names. "

He was up and starting to bring her; I stopped him. 

"We'll not bother with those names just now. I'd rather have you--orMrs. Vandeman--tell me what you suppose would be the entry in ThomasGilbert's diary for May 31 and June 1, 1916. I have already identifiedit as the date on which the Bowmans first moved into the Wallace house. I think Mr. Edwards knows something more, but he's not so communicativeas you promise to be. "

He looked as if he wished he hadn't been so liberal with his assurances. I saw him glance half sulkily at Edwards, as he exclaimed, "But those diaries are burned--they're burned. Worth told us the othernight that he burned them without reading. "

At the words, Edwards stopped stock-still, something almost humorous atthe back of the suffering gaze he fastened on my face. I met itsteadily, then answered Vandeman, "Doesn't make any difference to anybody that those books are burned. I'dread them; I know what was in them; and I know that three leaves--sixpages--covering the entries of May 31 and June 1, 1916, were cut out. "

"But what the deuce, Boyne?" Vandeman wrinkled a smooth brow. "Whatwould some leaves gone from Mr. Gilbert's diary four years ago have todo with us here to-day--or even with his recent death?"

"Pardon me, " I said shortly. "The matter's not as old as that. True, thestuff was written four years ago; it recorded happenings on those dates;but the ink that was used in marking out a run-over on the nextfollowing page was fresh. Anyhow, Mr. Vandeman, we know that a womancame weeping to Mr. Gilbert on the very night of his death, only a shorttime before his death--as nearly as medical science can determinethat--and we believe that she came after those leaves out of the diary, and got them--whatever she had to do to secure them. "

I was struck with the difference in the way these two men took inquiry. Edwards had writhed, changed color, started to speak and caught himselfback, showed all the agony of a clumsy criminal who dreads the probingthat may give him away: temperament; the rotten spot in his affairs. Vandeman, younger, not entangled with an unhappy married woman, satlooking me in the eye, still smiling. The blow I had to deal him wouldbe harder. It concerned his bride; but he'd take punishment well. Iproceeded to let him have it. 

"I can see that Mr. Edwards has an idea what the entries on those pagescovered. He has inadvertently shown me that your wife was the woman whocame and got them from Thomas Gilbert on the night he was murdered. "

At that he turned on Edwards, and Edwards answered the look with, "I didn't. On my honor, Bronse, I never mentioned your name or Ina's. The Chinaman told him that--about some woman coming that evening--"

"Mr. Vandeman, " I broke in, "there's no use beating about the bush. Chung recognized your wife's voice. She was the woman who came weepingto get those diary leaves. "

He took that with astonishing quietness, and, "Suppose you were shown that she wasn't out of her mother's house?"

"Wouldn't stop me. Allow that her alibi's perfect. Yet you men havesomething. There's something here I ought to know. "

"Something you'll never find out from me, " Jim Edwards' deep voice wasfull of defiance. "Bronse, I owe you an apology; but you can depend onme to keep my mouth shut. "

After a minute's consideration Vandeman said, "I don't know why we should any of us keep our mouths shut. "

Jim Edwards looked utterly bewildered as the man sat there, thinking thething over, glanced up pleasantly at me and suggested, "Edwards has a little different slant on this from me. I don't know whyI shouldn't state to you exactly what happened--right there in Gilbert'sstudy on the date you mentioned. "

"Oh, there did something unusual happen; and you've just remembered it. "

"There did something unusual happen, and I've just remembered it, aidedthereto by your questions and Edwards' queer looks. Cheer up, old man;we haven't all got your southern chivalry. From a plain, commonsensepoint of view, what I have to tell is not in the least to my wife'sdiscredit. In fact, I'm proud of her all the way through. "

Jim Edwards came suddenly and nervously to his feet, strode to thefurther corner of the room and sat down at as great a distance fromVandeman as its dimensions would permit. He turned his face to the smallwindow there, and through all that Vandeman said, kept up a steady, maddening tattoo with his fingernails on the sill. 

"This has to do with what I told you the first night I ever talked withyou, Boyne. You threw doubt on Thomas Gilbert's death being suicide. Igave as a reason for my belief that it was, a knowledge and convictionthat the man's mind was unhinged. "

Edwards' tattoo at the window ceased for a minute. He stared, startled, at the speaker, then went back to it, and Vandeman proceeded, "I'm not telling Jim Edwards anything he doesn't know, and what I say toyou, Boyne, that's discreditable to the dead, I can't avoid. Here it is:on the evening of June first, 1916, I had dinner alone at home. You'llfind, if you look at an old calendar, that it falls on a Sunday. JimEdwards had dined informally at the Thornhills'. As he told it to melater, they were all sitting out on the side porch after dinner, andnobody noticed that Ina wasn't with them until they heard cries comingfrom somewhere over in the direction of the Gilbert place. At my house, I'd heard it, and we both ran for the garage, where the screams wererepeated again and again. We got there about the same time, found thedisturbance was in the study, and Edwards who was ahead of me rushed upand hammered on its door. "

Again Jim Edwards stopped the nervous drumming of his fingers on thewindow-sill while he stared at the younger man as at some prodigy ofnature. Finally he seemed unable to hold in any longer. 

"Hammered on the door!" he repeated. "If you're going to turn out thewhole damn' thing to Boyne, tell it straight; door was open; we couldn'thave heard a yip out of Ina if it hadn't been. Tom there in full sight, sitting in his desk chair, cool as a cucumber, letting her scream. "

"I'm telling this, " Vandeman snapped. "Gilbert looked to me like aninsane man. Jim, you're crazy as he was, to say anything else. Neversupposed for a minute you thought otherwise--that poor girl there, dazedwith fright, backed as far away from him as she could get, hair flying, eyes wild. "

I looked from one to the other. What Edwards had said of the cold, contemptuous old man; what Vandeman told of the screaming girl; noanswer to such a proposition of course but an attempted frame-up. To letthe bridegroom get by would best serve my purpose. 

"All right, gentlemen, " I said. "And now could you tell me what actionyou took, on this state of affairs?"

"Action?" Vandeman gave me an uneasy look. "What was there to do? Toldyou I thought the man was crazy. "

"And you, Edwards?"

"Let it go as Bronse says. I cut back to Mrs. Thornhill's, scouting tosee what the chance was for getting Ina in without the family knowinganything. "

"That's right, " Vandeman said. "I stayed to fetch her. She was fine. Tothe last, she let Gilbert save his face--actually send her home asthough she were the one to blame. Right then I knew I loved her--wantedher for my wife. On the way home, I asked her and was accepted. "

"In spite of the fact that she was engaged to Worth Gilbert?"

"Boyne, " he said impatiently, "what's the matter with you? Haven't Imade you understand what happened there at the study? She had to breakoff with the son of a man like that. Ina Thornhill couldn't marry intosuch a breed. "

"Slow up, Vandeman!" Edwards' tone was soft, but when I looked at him, Isaw a tawny spark in his black eyes. Vandeman fronted him with theflamboyant embroidered monogram on his shirt sleeve, the carefullycareless tie, the utterly good clothes, and, most of all, at the moment, the smug satisfaction in his face of social and human security. Ithought of what that Frenchman says about there being nothing soenjoyable to us as the troubles of our friends. "Needn't think you canput it all over the boy when he's not here to defend himself--jump onhim because he's down! Tell that your wife discarded him--cast himoff--for disgraceful reasons! Damnitall! You and I both heard Tom givingher her orders to break with his son, she sniffling and hunting hairpinsover the floor and promising that she would. "

"Cut it out!" yelled Vandeman, as though some one had pinched him. "Isaw nothing of the sort. I heard nothing of the sort. Neither did you. "

I think they had forgotten me, and that they remembered at about thesame instant that they were talking before a detective. They bothturned, mum and startled looking, Edwards to his window, Vandeman to anervous brushing of his trouser edges, from which he looked up, inquiring doubtfully, "What next, Boyne? Jim's excited; but you understand that there's noanimus; and my wife and I are entirely at your disposal in this matter. "

"Thank you, " I said. 

"Would you like to talk to her?"

"I would. "

"When?"

"Now. "

"Where?"

"Here--or let the lady say. "

Vandeman gave me a queer look and went out. When he was gone, I foundJim Edwards scrabbling for his hat where it had dropped over behind thedesk. I put my back against the door and asked, "Is Bronson Vandeman a fatuous fool; or does he take me for one?"

"Some men defend their women one way, and some another. Let me out ofthis, Boyne, before that girl gets here. "

"She won't come in a hurry, " I smiled. "Her husband's pretty free withhis promises; but more than likely I'll have to go after her if I wanther. "

"Well?" he looked at me uncomfortably. 

"Blackmail's a crime, you know, Edwards. A woman capable of it, might becapable of murder. "

"You've got the wrong word there, Boyne. This wasn't exactly blackmail. "

"What, then?"

"The girl--I never liked her--never thought she was good enough forWorth--but she was engaged to him, and--in this I think she was fightingfor her hand. "

He searched my face and went on cautiously, "You read the diaries. They must have had complaints of her. "

"They had, " I assented. 

"Anything about money?"

I shook my head. 

"You said there were two entries gone; the first would have told you, Isuppose--Before we go further, Boyne, let me make a little explanationto you--for the girl's sake. "

"Shoot, " I said. 

"It was this way, " he sighed. "Thornhill, Ina's father, made fifteen ortwenty thousand a year I would say, and the family lived it up. He had astroke and died in a week's time. Left Mrs. Thornhill with herdaughters, her big house, her fine social position--and mighty little tokeep it up on. Ina is the eldest. She got the worst of it, because atthe first of her being a young lady she was used to having all the moneyshe wanted to spend. The twins were right on her heels; the thing forher to do was to make a good marriage, and make it quick. But she gotengaged to Worth; then he went to France. There you were. He might nevercome back. Tom always hated her; watched her like a hawk; got ontosomething she--about--"

"Out with it, " I said. "What? Come down to cases. "

"Money. " He uttered the one word and stood silent. 

I made a long shot, with, "Mr. Gilbert found she'd been getting money from other men--"

"Borrowing, Boyne--they used the word 'borrowed, '" Edwards put in. "Itwas always Tom's way to summon people as though he had a little privatejudgment bar, haul them up and lecture them; I suppose he thought he hada special license in her case. "

"And she went prepared to frame him and bluff him to a standoff. Is thatthe way you saw it?"

"My opinion--what I might think, " said Mr. James Edwards of Sunnyvaleranch, "wouldn't be testimony in a court of law. You don't want it, Boyne. "

"Maybe not, " I grunted. "Perhaps I could make as good a guess as youcould at what young Mrs. Vandeman's capable of; a dolly face, and behindit the courage of hell. "

"Boyne, " he said, as I left the door free to him, "quit making war onwomen. "

"Can't, " I grinned and waved him on out. "The detective business wouldbe a total loss without 'em. "

CHAPTER XXII

A DINNER INVITATION

"Look what's after you, man, " Skeet warned me from her lofty perch as Iwent out through the big room in quest of Ina Vandeman. "Better you stayhere. I gif you a yob. Lots safer--only run the risk of getting yourneck broken. "

I grinned up into her jolly, freckled face, and waited for the woman whocame toward me with that elastic, swinging movement of hers, thewell-opened eyes studying me, keeping all their secrets behind them. 

"Mr. Boyne, " a hand on my arm guided me to a side door; we steppedtogether out on to a small balcony that led to the lawn. "My husbandbrought me your message. Nobody over by the tennis court; let's go andwalk up and down there. "

Her fingers remained on my sleeve as we moved off; she emphasized herpoints from time to time by a slight pressure. 

"Such a relief to have a man like you in charge of this investigation. "She gave me an intimate smile; tall as she was, her face was almost on alevel with my own, yet I still found her eyes unreadable, none of thosequick tremors under the skin that register the emotions of excitablehumanity. She remained a handsome, perfectly groomed, and entirelyunruffled young woman. 

"Thank you, " was all I said. 

"Mr. Vandeman and I understand how very, very serious this is. Ofcourse, now, neighbors and intimates of Mr. Gilbert are underinspection. Everybody's private affairs are liable to be turned out. We've all got to take our medicine. No use feeling personal resentment. "

Fine; but she'd have done better to keep her hands off me. An old policedetective knows too much of the class of women who use that lever. Ilooked at them now, white, delicate, many-ringed, much more expressivethan her face, and I thought them capable of anything. 

"Here are the names you'll want, " she fumbled in the girdle of her gown, brought out a paper and passed it over. "These are the ones who stayedafter the reception, went up to my room with me, and helped mechange--or rather, hindered me. "

"The ones, " I didn't open the paper yet, just looked at her across it, "who were with you all the time from the reception till you left thehouse for San Francisco?"

"It's like this, " again she smiled at me, "the five whose names are onthat paper might any one of them have been in and out of my room duringthe time. I can't say as to that. But _they_ can swear that _I_ wasn'tout of the room--because I wasn't dressed. As soon as I changed from mywedding gown to my traveling suit, I went down stairs and we were alltogether till we drove to San Francisco and supper at Tait's, where Ihad the pleasure of meeting you, Mr. Boyne. "

"I understand, " I said. "They could all speak for you--but you couldn'tspeak for them. " Then I opened and looked. Some list! The social andfinancial elect of Santa Ysobel: bankers' ladies; prune kings'daughters; persons you couldn't doubt, or buy. But at the top of all wasLaura Bowman's name. 

We had halted for the turn at the end of the court. I held the paperbefore her. 

"How about this one? Do you think she was in the room all the time? Orhave you any recollection?"

The bride moved a little closer and spoke low. 

"Laura and the doctor were in the middle of one of their grand rows. She's a bunch of temperament. Mamma was ill; the girls were having tostart out with only Laura for chaperone; she said something about goingsomewhere, and it wouldn't take her long--she'd be back in plenty oftime. But whether she went or not--Mr. Boyne, you don't want us to tellyou our speculations and guesses? That wouldn't be fair, would it?"

"It wouldn't hurt anything, " I countered. "I'll only make use of whatcan be proven. Anything you say is safe with me. "

"Well, then, of course you know all about the situation between Lauraand Jim Edwards. Laura was determined she wouldn't go up to SanFrancisco with her husband--or if she did, he must drive her back thesame night. She wouldn't even leave our house to get her things fromhome; the doctor, poor man, packed some sort of bag for her and broughtit over. When he came back with it, she wasn't to be found; and shenever did appear until we were getting into the machine. "

I listened, glancing anxiously toward the skyline of that little hillover which Worth and Barbara might be expected to appear almost anymoment now. Then we made the turn at the end of the court, and my viewof it was cut off. 

"Laura and Jim--they're the ones this is going to be hard on. I do feelsorry for them. She's always been a problem to her family and friends. Agreat deal's been overlooked. Everybody likes Jim; but--he's asoutherner; intrigue comes natural to them. "

Five minutes before I had been listening to Edwards' pitiful defense ofthis girl; I recalled his "scouting" for a chance to get her home unseenand save her standing with her family. That could be classed asintrigue, too, I suppose. We were strolling slowly toward the clubhouse. 

"I don't give Dr. Bowman much, " I said deliberately. A quick look camemy way, and, "Mr. Gilbert was greatly attached to him. Everybody's always believedthat only Mr. Gilbert's influence held that match together. Now he'sdead, and Laura's freed from some sort of control he seemed to have overher, of course she hopes and expects she'll be able to divorce thedoctor in peace and marry Jim. "

"No movement of the sort yet?"

She stopped and faced round toward me. 

"Dr. Bowman--he's our family physician, you know--is trying for a veryfine position away from here, in an exclusive sanitarium. Divorceproceedings coming now would ruin his chances. But I don't know how longhe can persuade Laura to hold off. She's in a strange mood; I can't makeher out, myself. She disliked Gilbert; yet his death seems to have upsether frightfully. "

"You say she didn't like Mr. Gilbert?"

"They hated each other. But--he was so peculiar--of course that wasn'tstrange. Many people detested him. Bron never did. He always forgave himeverything because he said he was insane. Bron told you myexperience--the one that made me break with Worth?"

She looked at me, a level look; no shifting of color, no flutter ofeyelid or throat. We were at the clubhouse steps. 

"Here comes the boy himself, " I warned as Worth and Barbara, their armsfull of ferns, rounded the turn from the little dip at the side of thegrounds where the stream went through. We stood and waited for them. 

"You two, " Ina spoke quickly to them. "Mr. Boyne's just promised to comeover to dinner to-morrow night. " Her glance asked me to accept the fiband the invitation. "I want both of you. "

"I'm going to be at your house anyhow, Ina, " Barbara said, "working withSkeet painting those big banners they've tacked up out in your court. You'll have to feed us; but we'll be pretty messy. I don't know about adinner party. "

"It isn't, " Ina protested, smiling. "It's just what you said--feedingyou. Nobody there besides yourself and Skeet but Mr. Boyne and Worth--ifhe'll come. "

"I have to go up to San Francisco to-morrow, " said Worth. 

"But you'll be back by dinner time?" Ina added quickly. 

"If I make it at all. "

"Well, you can come just as you are, if you get in at the last minute, "she said, and he and Barbara went on to carry their ferns in. When theywere out of hearing, she turned and floored me with, "Mr. Vandeman has forbidden me to say this to you, but I'm going tospeak. If Worth doesn't have to be told about me--and his father--I'd beglad. "

"If the missing leaves of the diary are ever found, " I came up slowly, "he'd probably know then. " I watched her as I said it. What a strangelook of satisfaction in the little curves about her mouth as she spokenext:

"Those leaves will never be found, Mr. Boyne. I burned them. Mr. Gilbertpresented them to me as a wedding gift. He was insane, but, intending totake his own life, I think even his strangely warped conscience refusedto let a lying record stand against an innocent girl who had never donehim any harm. "

We stood silent a moment, then she looked round at me brightly with, "You're coming to dinner to-morrow night? So glad to have you. At seveno'clock. Well--if this is all, then?" and at my nod, she went up thesteps, turning at the side door to smile and wave at me. 

What a woman! I could but admire her nerve. If her alibi provedcopper-fastened, as something told me it would, I had no more hope ofbringing home the murder of Thomas Gilbert to Mrs. Bronson Vandeman ofSanta Ysobel than I had of readjusting the stars in their courses!

CHAPTER XXIII

A BIT OF SILK

I must admit that when Worth and Barbara walked up and found me talkingto Ina Vandeman, I felt caught dead to rights. The girl gave me onelong, steady look. I was afraid of Barbara Wallace's eyes. Then andthere I relinquished all idea of having her help in this inquiry. Shecould have done it much better than I, attracted less attention--but nomatter. The awkward moment went by, however; I heaved a sigh of reliefas they carried their ferns on into the clubhouse, and Mrs. Vandemanleft me with gracious good-bys. 

I had the luck to cover my first inquiry by getting a lift into townfrom Mrs. Ormsby, young wife of the president of the First National. Alone with me in her little electric, she answered every question Icared to put, and said she would be careful to speak to no one of thematter. Three others I caught on the wing, as it were, busy at blossomfestival affairs; the fête only one day off now, things were movingfast. I glimpsed Dr. Bowman down town and thought he rather carefullyavoided seeing me. His wife was taking no part; the word went that shewas not able; but when I called at what had been the Wallace and was nowthe Bowman home, I found the front door open and two ladies in the hall. 

One of them, Laura Bowman herself, came flying out to meet me--orrather, it seemed, to stop me, with a face of dismay. 

"My mother's here, Mr. Boyne!" Her hand was clammy cold; she'd beenwarned of me and my errand. "I don't want to take you through that way. "

I stood passive, and let her do the saying. 

"Around here, " she faltered. "We can go in at the side door. "

We skirted the house by a narrow walk; she was leading the way by thisother entrance, when, spread out over its low step, blocking ourprogress, I saw a small Japanese woman ripping up a satin dress. 

"Let us pass, Oomie. "

"Wait. We can talk as well here, " I checked her. We moved on a fewpaces, out of earshot of the girl; but before I could put my questions, she began with a sort of shattered vehemence to protest that ThomasGilbert's death was suicide. 

"It was, Mr. Boyne. Anybody who knew the scourge Thomas had been tothose he must have loved in his queer, distorted way, and any one wholoved them, could believe he might take his own life. "

"You speak freely, Mrs. Bowman, " I said. "Then you hated the man?"

"Oh, I did! For years past I've never heard of a death without wonderingthat God took other human beings and let him live. Now that he's killedhimself, it seems dreadful to me that suspicion should be cast on--"

"Mrs. Bowman, " I interrupted. "Thomas Gilbert's death was murder. Allpersons who could have had motive or might have had opportunity to killhim will be under suspicion till the investigation clears them of it. I'm now ascertaining the whereabouts of Ina Vandeman that evening. "

A shudder went through her; she looked at me feelingly, twisting herhands together in the way I remembered. Despite her distress, she wasvery simple and accessible. She gave me no resistance, admitted herabsence from the Thornhill house at about the time the party was readyto start for San Francisco--Edwards, of course. I got nothing new here. She seemed thankful enough to go into the house when I released her. 

I lingered a moment to have a word with the little Japanese woman on thestep. 

"How long you work this place?"

"Two hours af-noon, every day, " ducking and giggling like a mechanicaltoy. 

Just a piece-worker, not a regular servant. 

"Pretty dress, " I touched the satin on the step. "Whose?"

"Mine. " Grinning, she spread a breadth out over her knees. "Lady no likeany more. Mine. " It was a peculiar shade of peacock blue; unless I wasmistaken, the one Mrs. Bowman had worn that night at Tait's. 

"Hello--what's this?" I bent to examine a small hole in the hem of thatbreadth Oomie was so delightedly smoothing. 

"O-o-o-o! I think may-may burn'm. Not like any more. "

There was a small round hole. Just so a cigarette might have seared--ora bullet. 

"Not can use, " I said to Oomie, indicating the injured bit. "Cut thatoff. Give me. " And I laid a silver dollar on the step. 

Giggling, the little brown woman snipped out the bit of hem and handedit to me. I glanced up from tucking it into my pocket, and saw LauraBowman's white face staring at me through the glass of that side entrydoor. 

A suggestive lead, certainly; but it's my way to follow one lead at atime: I went on to the Thornhill place. 

Everybody there would know my errand; for though, with taste I could butadmire, Ina had put no name of any member of the family on her list, sheof course expected me to call on them, and would never have let hersisters leave the country club without a warning. 

The three were just taking their hats off in the hall when I arrived. Idid my questioning there, not troubling to take them separately. Coraand Ernestine, a well bred pair of Inas, without her pep, perhaps ashade less good looking, made their replies with none of the usualflutter of feminine curiosity and excitement, then went on in the livingroom. Skeet of course was as practical and brief as a sensible boy. 

"I don't know whether she's fit to see you, " she said when I spoke ofher mother. And on the instant, Ina Vandeman's clear, high voice calleddown the stair, "Bring Mr. Boyne up--now. "

Skeet stepped aside for me to pass. I suppose I looked as startled as Ifelt, for on my way to the house, I had seen Mrs. Vandeman drive pasttoward town. I stood there at a loss, and finally said aimlessly, "Your sister thinks it's all right?"

"My sister?" Skeet wrinkled her brows at me, and glanced to where thetwins were in sight in the living room. "That was mother herself whocalled you. "

All the way up the stairs, Skeet following, I was trying to swing myrather heavy wits around to take advantage of this new development. Sofar, Ina Vandeman's voice, imitated by Barbara Wallace, and recognizedby Chung and Jim Edwards, possibly by Worth, had been my lead in thisdirection. If more than one woman spoke in that voice--where would ittake me?

I'd got no adjustment before I was ushered into a large dim room, andconfronted by a figure in a reclining chair by the window. Here, inspite of years and illness, were the same good looks and thoroughbredcourage that seemed to characterize the women of this family. Mrs. Thornhill greeted me in Ina Vandeman's very tones, a little high-pitchedfor real sweetness, full of a dominating quality, and she showed acomposure I had not expected. To Skeet, standing by, watching to seethat her mother didn't overdo in talking to me, she said, "Dear, go down stairs. Jane's left her dinner on the range and gone tothe grocery. You look after it while she's away. "

When we were alone, she lay back in her chair, eyes closed, or seeminglyso, and made her statement. She'd been in her daughter's room only twicebetween the reception and that daughter's going away. 

"But the room was full of other people, " a glimmer between lashes. "Icould give you the names of those others. "

"Thank you, " I said. "Mrs. Vandeman has already done that. I've seenthem all. "

"You've seen them--all?" a long, furtively drawn breath. Then her eyesflashed open and fixed themselves on me. Relief was there, yet somethingstricken, as they traveled over me from my gray thatch to my big feet. 

"Now, Mrs. Thornhill, " I said, "aside from those two visits to yourdaughter's room, where were you that evening?"

A slow flush crept into her thin cheeks. The unreadable eyes that weretraveling over Jerry Boyne stopped suddenly and held him with a quietstare. 

"I understood it was my daughter's movements on that evening you wishedto trace, Mr. Boyne, " she said slowly. "It would be difficult to tracemine. Really, I had so much on my hands with the reception andinefficient help--" She broke off, her eyes never leaving my own, evenas she added smoothly, "It would be very, very difficult. "

There is an effect in class almost like the distinction of race. Thesewomen spoke a baffling language; their psychology was hard for me. Ifthere was something hid up amongst them that ought to be uncovered bydiplomacy and delicate indirection, it would take a smarter man than theone who stood in my number tens to do it. 

"Mrs. Thornhill, " I said, "you did leave the house. You went to Mr. Gilbert's study. The shot that killed him left you a nervous wreck, sothat you can't hear a tire blow-out without reënacting in your mind thescene of that murder. You'll talk now. "

"You think I will? Talk to you?" very low and quiet, eyes once moreclosed. 

"Why not? It's got to come; here in your own home, with me--or I'll haveto put you where you'll be forced to answer questions. "

"Oh, you threaten me, do you?" Her eyes flashed open, and looked at me, hard as flint. "Very well. I'll answer no questions as to what happenedon the evening of Thomas Gilbert's death, except in the presence ofWorth Gilbert, his son. "

My retirement down the Thornhill stairs, made with such dignity as Icould muster, was in fact, a panic flight. Halfway, Cora Thornhill allbut finished me by looking out from the living room, and calling in InaVandeman's voice, "Erne, show Mr. Boyne out, won't you?"

Ernestine completed the job when she answered--in Ina Vandeman's voice, also--

"Yes, dear; I will. " It was only the scraps of me that she swept outthrough the front door. 

I stood on the porch and mopped my brow. Across, there at the Gilbertplace was Worth himself, charging around the grounds with Vandeman and alot of other decorators, pruning shears in hand, going for a thicket ofbamboos that shut off the vegetable garden. At one side Barbara stoodalone, looking, it seemed to me, rather depressed. I made for her. Shemet me with, "I know what you've been doing. Skeet came to me about it while Ina wasphoning home from the country club. "

"Well--she should worry! I've just finished with her list. Got anunbreakable alibi. "

"She would have, " Barbara said listlessly. "She wasn't at the study thatevening. "

"Huh! I worked on your tip that she was. "

Barbara had pulled off the little stitched hat she wore; yet the deepflush on her cheeks was neither from sun nor an afternoon's hard work. It, and the quick straightening of her figure, the lift of her chin, hadto do with me and my activities. 

"Mr. Boyne, " the black eyes came around to me with a flash, "do yoususpect me of trying to pay off a spite on Ina Vandeman?"

"Good Lord--no!" I exploded. "And anyhow, I've just found that what youimitated and Chung recognized, might as well have been the mother'svoice as the daughter's. "

"Yes, " she assented. "Any one of the family--under stress of emotion. "Then suddenly, "And why do I tell you that? You'll not get from it whatI do. I ought never to have mixed up my kind of mental work with otherpeople's. I'd promised my own soul that I would never make anotherdeduction. Then Worth came and asked me--that night at Tait's. I mightsay now that I never will any more. .. . " She broke off, storm in her eyesand in her voice as she finished, "But I suppose if he wanted me toagain--I'd make a little fool of myself for his amusement just as I didthis time and have done all these other times!"

"I'll not ask anything more of you, Barbara, " I said to her hastily, confused and abashed before the glimpse she'd given me of her heart. "Except that I beg you to stay good friends with Cummings. That manhates Worth. If you turned him down now--say, for the ball, or anythinglike that--he'd be twice as hard for us to handle. Keep him a passiveenemy instead of an active one, as long as he seems to find it necessaryto hang around Santa Ysobel. "

"You know what's holding Mr. Cummings here, don't you?" She glancedsomberly past the bamboo gatherers to where we saw a gray corner of thestudy with its pink ivy geranium blossoms atop. "Mr. Cummings is heldhere by two steel bolts--the bolts on those study doors. Until he findshow they can be moved through an inch of planking--he'll not leave SantaYsobel. "

She'd put it in a nutshell. And I couldn't let him beat me to it. I'dgot to get the jump on him. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE MAGNET

I had all set for next morning: my roadster at Capehart's for repair, old Bill tipped off that I didn't want any one but Eddie Hughes to workon it; and to add to my satisfaction, there arrived in my daily gristfrom the office, the report that they had Skeels in jail at Tiajuana. 

"Well, Jerry, old socks, " Worth hailed my news as I followed out to hiscar where he was starting for San Francisco, and going to drop me at theCapehart garage, "Some luck! If Skeels is in jail at Tiajuana, and whatI'm after to-day turns out right, we may have both ends of the string. "

Pink-and-white were the miles of orchards surrounding Santa Ysobel, pink-and-white nearly all the dooryards, every tree its own littlecarnival of bloom with bees for guests. Already the streets were full oflife, double the usual traffic. As we neared the Capehart cottage, onits quiet side street about half a block from the garage, there wasBarbara under the apple boughs at the gate, talking to some man whoseback was to us. She bowed; I answered with a wave toward the garage; butWorth scooted us past without, I thought, once glancing her way, sentthe roadster across Main where he should have stopped and let me out, went on and into the highway at a clip which rocked us. 

"Was that Cummings?" holding my hat on. No answer that I could hear, while we made speed toward San Francisco. And still no word was spokenuntil we had outraged the sensibilities of all whose bad luck it was tomeet us, those whom we passed going at a more reasonable pace, scared ateam of work horses into the ditch, and settled down to a steady whiz. 

We were getting away from Santa Ysobel a good deal further and a gooddeal faster than I felt I could afford. I took a chance and remarked, tonobody in particular, and in a loud voice, "I asked Barbara not to make a break with Cummings; it would be awkwardfor us now if she did. "

"Break?" Worth gave me back one of my words. 

"Yes. I was afraid she might throw him down for the carnival ball. "

Without comment or reply, he slowed gently for the big turn where theMedlow road comes in, swept a handsome circle and headed back. Then heremarked, "Thought I'd show you what the little boat could do under my management. Eddie had her in fair shape, but I've tuned her up a notch or twosince. "

I responded with proper enthusiasm, and would have been perfectlywilling to be let out at Main Street. But he turned the corner there, ran on to the garage, jumped out and followed me in. Bill, selling someused tires to a customer in the office, nodded and let us go past towhere my machine stood. We heard voices back in the repair shop and ahum of swift whirring shafts and pulleys. Worth kept with me. Itembarrassed me--made me nervous. It was as though he had some notion ofmy purpose there. Hughes, at his lathe, caught sight of us and growledover his shoulder, "Yer machine's ready. "

This wouldn't do. I stepped to the door, with, "Fixed the radiator, did you?"

"Sure. Whaddye think?" Hughes was at work on something for a girl; sheperched at one end of his bench, swinging her feet. Worth, behind me, touched my shoulder, and I saw that the girl over there was BarbaraWallace. 

She looked up at us and smiled. The sun slanting through dirt coveredwindows, made color effects on her silken black hair. Eddie gave usanother scowl and went on with his work. 

"Hello, Bobs, " Worth's greeting was casual. "Thought I'd stop and tellyou I was on my way--you know. " A glance of understanding passed betweenthem. "Better come along?"

"I'd like to, " she smiled. "You'll be back by dinner time. If it wasn'tthe last day, and I hadn't promised--"

Neither of them in any hurry. 

"Hughes, " I said, "there's another thing needs doing on that car ofmine--"

"Can't do nothing at all till I finish her job, " he shrugged me off. 

"All right, " and I stepped through into the grassy back yard, put asmoke in my face, and began walking up and down, my glance, each time Iturned, encountering that queer bunch inside: Worth, hands in pockets;the chauffeur he had discharged--and that I was waiting to get formurder--bending at his vise; Barbara's shining dark head close to thetousled unkemptness of his poll, as she explained to him the pulleyarrangement needed to raise and anchor the banner she and Skeet werepainting. 

Suddenly, at the far end of my beat, I was brought up by a little outcryand stir. As I wheeled toward the door, I saw Bobs and Worth in it, apparently wrestling over something. Laughing, crying, she hung to hiswrist with one hand, the other covering one of her eyes. 

"Let me look!" he demanded. "I won't touch it, if you don't want me to. You have got something in there, Bobs. "

But when she reluctantly gave him his chance, he treacherously went forher with a corner of his handkerchief in the traditional way, and shebacked off, uttering a cry that fetched Hughes around from the lathe, roaring at Worth, above the noise of the machinery, "What's the matter with her?"

"Steel splinter--in her eye, " Worth shouted. 

With a quick oath, the belt pole was thrown to stop the lathe; down thelength of the shop to the scrap heap of odds and ends at the rear Hughesraced, returning with a bit of metal in his hand. Barbara was backedagainst the bench, her eyes shut, and tears had begun to flow from underthe lids. 

"Now, Miss Barbie, " Hughes remonstrated. "You let me at that thing. This'll pull it out and never touch you. " I saw it was a horse-shoemagnet he carried. 

"Do you think it will?"

"Sure, " and Eddie approached the magnet to her face. "It won't hurt youa-tall. She'll begin to pull before she even touches. Now, steady. Wantto come as near contact as I can. Don't jump. .. . Hell!"

Barbara had sprung away from him. But for Worth's quick arm, she wouldhave been into the machines. 

"No!" she said between locked teeth, tears on her cheeks, "I can't lethim. "

"Why, Barbara!" I said, astonished; and poor Eddie almost blubbered ashe begged, "Aw, come on, Miss Barbie. It was my fault in the first place--leavin'that damned lathe run. Yuh got to let me--"

"But if it doesn't work?"

"Sure it'll work. Would I offer to use it for you if I hadn't tried itout lots o' times--to pull splinters and--"

"Give me that magnet, " Worth reached the long arm of authority, got whathe wanted, shouldered Hughes aside, and took hold of the girl with, "Quit being a little fool, Barbara. That thing's only caught in yourlashes now. Let it get in against the eyeball and you'll have trouble. Hold still. "

The command was not needed. Without a word, Barbara raised her face, puther hands behind her and waited. 

Delicately, Worth caught the dark fringe of the closed eye, turned backthe lid so that he could see just what he was at, brought the horse-shoealmost in touch, then drew it away--and there was the tiny steelsplinter that could have cost her sight, clinging to the magnet's edge. 

"Here you are, " he smiled. "Wasn't that enough to call you names for?"

"You didn't call me names, " dabbing away with a small handkerchief. "Youtold me to quit being a little fool. Maybe I will. How would you likethat?"

Apparently Hughes did not resent Barbara's refusing his help andaccepting Worth's. He went back to his vise; the two others strolledtogether through the doorway into the garage, talking there for a momentin quick, low tones; then Barbara returned to perch on the end ofEddie's bench, play with the magnet and watch him at work. I lit upagain and stepped out. 

I could see Barbara gather some nails, screws and loose pieces of iron, hold a bit of board over them, and trail the magnet back and forth alongits top. Though a half inch of wood intervened, the metal trash on thebench followed the magnet to and fro. I got nothing out of that exceptthat Barbara was still a child, playing like a child, till I looked upsuddenly to find that she had ceased the play, brought her feet up tocurl them under her in the familiar Buddha pose, while the busy handswere dropped and folded before her. Her rebellion of yesterdayevening--and now her taking up the concentration unasked--she wouldn'twant me to notice what she was doing; I ducked out of sight. I hadwalked up and down that yard a half dozen times more, when over me witha rush came the significance of those moving bits of iron, trailing amagnet on the other side of a board. Three long steps took me to thedoor. 

"Hughes, " I shouted, "I'm taking my machine now. Be back directly. "

The man grunted without turning around. I had forgotten Barbara, but asI was climbing into the roadster, I heard her jump to the floor andstart after me. 

"Mr. Boyne! Wait! Mr. Boyne!"

I checked and sat grinning as she came up, the magnet in her hand. Ireached for it. 

"Give me that, " I whispered. "Want to go along and see me use it?"

"No--no--" in hushed protest. "You're making a mistake, Mr. Boyne. "

"Mistake? I saw what you did in there. Said you never would again--thenwent right to it! You sure got something this time! Girl--girl! You'veturned the trick!"

"Oh, _no_! You mustn't take it like that, Mr. Boyne. This is nothing--asit stands. Just a single unrelated fact that I used with others toconcentrate on. Wait. Do wait--till Worth comes back, anyhow. "

"All right. " I felt that our voices were getting loud, that we'd talkedhere too long. No use of flushing the game before I was loaded. "Firstthing to do is to verify this. " I felt good all over. 

"Yes, of course, " she smiled faintly. "You would want to do that. " Andshe climbed in beside me. 

I drove so fast that Barbara had no chance to question me, though shedid find openings for remonstrating at my speed. I dashed into thedriveway of the Gilbert place and came to an abrupt stop at the doors ofthe garage. And right away I bumped up against my first check. I grippedthe magnet, raced to the study door with it, she following more slowlyto watch while I passed it along the wooden panel where the bolt ran onthe other side; and nothing doing!

Again she followed as I ran around to the outside door, opened up andtried it on the bare bolt itself; no stir. While she sat in the deskchair at that central table, her elbows on its top, her hands lightlyclasped, the chin dropped in interlaced fingers, following my movementswith very little interest, I puffed and worked, opened a door and triedto move the bolt when it wasn't in the socket, and felt like cursing indisappointment. 

"A little oil--" I grumbled, more to myself than to her, and hurried tothe garage workbench for the can that would certainly be there. It was, but I didn't touch it. What I did lean over and clutch from where theylay tossed in carelessly among rubbish and old spare parts, were threemore magnets exactly the same as the one we had brought from Capehart's. I sprinted back with them. 

"Barbara, " I called in an undertone. "Come here. Look. "

Held side by side, the four, working as one, moved the bolts as well asfingers could have done, and through more than an inch of hard wood. 

"Yes, " she looked at it; "but that doesn't prove Eddie Hughes themurderer. "

"No?" her opposition began to get on my nerves. "I'm afraid that'll be amatter for twelve good men and true to settle. " She stood silent, and Iadded, "I know now whose shadow I saw on the broken panel of that doorthere, the first Sunday night. "

"Oh, it was Eddie's, " she agreed rather unexpectedly. 

"And he came to steal the 1920 diary, " I supplied. 

"He came to get a drink from the cellaret, and a cigar from the case. That's the use he made of his power to move these bolts. "

"Until the Saturday night when he killed his employer, the man he hated, and left things so the crime would pass as suicide. Barbara, are youjust plain perverse?"

Instead of answering, she went back to the table, got the contraptionHughes had made for her, and started as if to leave me. On thethreshold, she hesitated. 

"I don't suppose there's anything I can say or do to change your mind, "her tone was inert, drained. "I know that Eddie is innocent of this. Butyou don't want to listen to deductions. "

"Later, " I said to her, briskly. "It'll keep. I've something to do now. "

"What? You promised Worth to make no move against Eddie Hughes until youhad his permission. " She seemed to think that settled it. I let her keepthe idea. 

"Run along, Barbara, " I said, "get to your paint daubing. I'll forgiveyou everything for deducing--well, discovering, if you like thatbetter--about these bolts and magnets. "

Skeet burst from the kitchen door of the Thornhill house, caught sightof us, shouted something unintelligible, and came racing through thegrounds toward Vandeman's. 

"Been waiting for me long, angel?" she called, as Barbara moved up witha lagging step, then, waving two pairs of overalls, "Got pants for bothof us, honey. The paints and brushes are over there. We'll make shortwork of that old banner, now. "

Promised Worth, had I? But the situation was changed since then. No manof sense could object to my moving on what I had now. I locked the studydoor, went back to my roadster, and headed her uptown. 

CHAPTER XXV

AN ARREST

It was a thankful if not a joyous Jerry Boyne who crossed the frontpergola of the Vandeman bungalow that evening in the wake of WorthGilbert, bound for an informal dinner. The tall, unconscious lad whostepped ahead of me had been made safe in spite of himself. This weightoff my mind, I felt kindly to the whole world, to the man under whosedining table we were to stretch our legs, whose embarrassing privateaffairs I had uncovered. He'd taken it well--seconding his wife's dinnerinvitation, meeting my eye frankly whenever we encountered. My mood wasexpansive. When Vandeman himself opened the door to us, explaining thathe was his own butler for the day, I saw him quite other than he hadever appeared to me. 

For one thing, here in his own house--and this was the first time I hadever been in it--you got the man with his proper background, hissuitable atmosphere. The handsome living room into which he took us, showed many old pieces of mahogany, and some of the finest orientalstuff I ever saw; books in cases, sets of standard writers, such aspeople of culture bought thirty or forty years ago, some family picturesabout. This was Vandeman; a lot behind such a fellow, after all, if hedid seem rather a lightweight. 

Ina joined us, very beautifully dressed. She also showed the ability tosink unpleasant considerations in the present moment of hospitality. Welingered a moment chatting, then, "Shall we go and look at the artists working?" she suggested, and ledthe way. We followed out onto a flagged terrace at the rear. A dozengreat muslin strips were tacked over the walls there, and two smallfigures, desperate, smudged, wearing the blue overalls Skeet Thornhillhad waved at us, toiled manfully smearing the blossom festival colors onin lettering and ornamental designs. 

"Ina!" Skeet yawped at her sister, "Another dirty, low Irish trick! Getyourself all dressed up like a sore thumb, and then show us off in thisfix!"

Mutely Barbara revolved on the box she occupied. There was fire in hersoft eyes; her color was high as her glance came to rest on Worth. 

"Fong Ling's nearly ready to serve dinner, " said Ina calmly. "Stopfussing, and go wash up. "

"Hello, Mr. Boyne. " As Skeet passed me, she wiped a paw on a paint ragand offered it to me without another word. I got a grip and a look thattold me there was no hang-over with her from that scene yesterday in hermother's sick-room. Vandeman was commenting on his depleted bambooclumps. 

"Mine suffered worse than yours, Worth. Fong Ling kicked like a baysteer about our taking so much. He's nursed the stuff for years like afond mother. But we had to have it for that effect up around theorchestra stand. "

"Then he's been with you a long time?" I caught at the chance forinformation on this chink--information that I'd found it impossible toget from the chink himself. 

"Ever since I came in here. Chinamen, you know--not like Japs. Someloyalty. You can keep a good one for half a lifetime. "

We strolled back to the living room; the girls were there before us, Skeet picking out bits of plum-blossoms and bunches of cherry bloom froma great bowl on the mantel, and sticking them in Barbara's dark hair, wreath fashion. 

"Best we could do at a splurge, " she greeted us, "was to turn in ourblouses at the neck. "

"And what in the world are you doing to Barbara?" Mrs. Vandeman saidsharply. "Let her alone, Skeet. You'll make her look ridiculous. "

Skeet stuck out her tongue at her sister, and went calmly on, mumblingas she worked, "Hold 'till 'ittle Barbie child. Yook up at pretty mans and hold 'till. "

Over the mantel, in front of Barbara as she stood, her back to us all, hung an oil painting--one of those family groups--same old popper; sameold mommer, and a fat baby in a white dress and blue sash. At that, itwas good enough to show that the man had some resemblance to Vandeman ashe leaned there on the mantel below it, rather encouraging Skeet'senterprise. From the other side, I could see Barbara's glance go fromman to picture. 

"Doesn't it look like Van, Barbie?" Skeet kept up the conversation. "Gotthe same ring, and all. But it ain't Van. Him's the tootsie in therewith the blue ribbon round his tummy. "

"I say, Skeeter, lay off!" Vandeman looked selfconsciously from thepainted ring in the picture to the real ring on his own well kept handthere on the mantel edge. "People aren't interested in familyhistories. "

"I am, " said Barbara, unexpectedly. As the gong sounded and we all beganto move toward the dining room, they were still on the subject and keptit up after we were seated. 

Fong Ling served us. The bride had Worth on her right, and talked to himin lowered tones. Barbara, between Vandeman and myself, continued toshow an almost feverish attention to Vandeman. It was plain enough fromwhere I sat that nothing Ina Vandeman could say gave the lad any lessinterest in his plate. But I suppose with a girl, the mere fact of someother girl being allowed to show intentions counts. Did the flapper getwhat was going on, as she looked proudly across at her handiwork, anddemanded of me, "Say, Mr. Boyne, you saw how Ina tried to do us dirt? And now, honest togoodness, hasn't Barbie with the plum-blossoms got Ina and herartificial flowers skun a mile?"

I didn't wonder that young Mrs. Vandeman saved me the necessity ofanswering, by taking her up. 

"Skeet, you're too outrageous!"

There she sat, quite a beauty in a very superior fashion; and Worth ather side, was having his attention called to this dark young creatureacross the table, whose wonderful still fire, the white blossomscrowning her hair, might well have made even a lovelier than InaVandeman look insipid. And Worth did take his time admiring her; I sawthat; but all he found to say was, "Bobs, I suppose Jerry's told you that he's treed Clayte at Tiajuana?"

"No, " said Barbara, "he hasn't said a word. But I'm just as muchsurprised at Clayte's being caught as I was at Skeels escaping capture. "

"Say that over and say it slow, " Vandeman was good natured. "Or rather, put it in plain American, so we all can understand. "

"Mr. Boyne knows what I mean. " Barbara gave me a faint smile. "Mr. Boyneand I add up Skeels and Clayte, and get a different result. That's all. "

"Bobs doesn't think that Skeels is Clayte, caught or uncaught, " Worthsaid briefly and went on eating his dinner. Apparently he didn't give ahang which way the fact turned out to be. 

"Why don't you?" Vandeman gave passing attention. She shook her head andput it. 

"Skeels, at liberty, was quite possibly Clayte; Skeels captured cannotbe Clayte. Mr. Boyne, do you call that a paradox?"

"No--an unkind slam at a poor old man's ability in his profession. Istarted out to find a gang; but Clayte and Skeels are so exactly one, mentally, morally and physically, that I don't see why we should seekfurther. "

"Back up, Jerry, " Worth tossed it over at me. "Let Barbara"--he didn'toften use the girl's full name that way--"give you a description ofClayte before you're so sure. "

"How could I?" The girl's tone was defensive. "I never saw him. "

"I want you, " Worth paid no attention to her objections, "to describethe man you thought you were asking for that day at the Gold Nugget, when Jerry butted in, and your ideas got lost in the excitement aboutSkeels. Deduce the description, I mean. "

"Deduce it?" Barbara spoke stiffly, incredulously, her glance going fromWorth to the well-gowned, well-groomed woman beside him. I rememberedher moment of rebellion yesterday evening on the lawn, when she said sobitterly that if he asked it again, she'd do it again, as she finished, "Deduce--here?"

"Here and now. " Worth's laconic answer sent the blood of healthy angerinto her face, made her eyes shine. And it brought from Ina Vandeman apetulant, "Oh, Worth, please don't turn my dinner table into a side-show. "

"Ina, dear. " Vandeman raised his eyes at her, then quite the cordialhost urging a guest to display talent, "They say you're wonderful atthat sort of thing, and I've never seen it. "

Barbara was mad for fair. 

"Oh, very well, " she spoke pointedly to Vandeman, and left Worth out ofit. "If you think you'd really enjoy seeing me make a side-show of Ina'sdinner table--"

She stopped and waited. Vandeman played up to the situation as he sawit, with one of his ready smiles. Worth threw no life-line. Ina didn'tthink it worth while to apologize for her rudeness. Skeet was openly ina twitter of anticipation. There was nothing for me to do. A littlecommotion of skirts told us that she was drawing up her feet to sitcross-legged in her chair. 

"She's going to! Oh, golly!" Skeet chortled. "Haven't seen Bobsy do oneof those stunts since I was a che-ild!"

Arms down, hands clasped, eyes growing bigger, face paling into snow, wewatched her. To all but Vandeman, this was a more or less familiarperformance. They took it rather as a matter of course. It was theChinaman, coming in with the coffee tray, who seemed most strangelyaffected by it. He stopped where he was in the doorway, rigid, staringat our girl, though with a changeful light in his eye that seemed to meto shift between an unreasonable admiration and an unreasonable fear. Orientals are superstitious; but what could the fellow be afraid of inthe beautiful young thing, Buddha posed, blossoms in her hair? The girlhad gone into her stunt with a sort of angry energy. He seemed to clutchhimself to stillness for the brief time that it held. Only in the momentthat she relaxed, and we knew that Barbara had concentrated, Barbara wasBarbara again, did he move quietly forward, a decent, competent servant, stepping around the table, placing our cups. 

"Just two facts to go on, " she said coldly. "My results will be prettygeneral. "

"Nothing to go on in the way of a description of Clayte, " I tried tohelp her out. "I'd call that one we had of him as near nothing as itwell could be. "

"Yes, the nothingness of it was one of my facts, " she said, and stopped. 

"Let's hear what you did get, Bobs, " Worth prompted; and Skeet giggled, half under her breath, "Speech! Speech!"

"At the Gold Nugget--whatever he called himself there--Edward Claytewas ten years younger than he had seemed at the bank; he appeared toweigh a dozen pounds more; threw out his chest, walked with his head up, and therefore would have been estimated quite a bit taller. Thispersonality was an opposite of the other. Bank clerk Clayte was demure, unobtrusive; this man wore loud patterns. The bank clerk was silent;this man talked to every one around him, tilted his hat over one eye, smoked cigars just as those men were doing that day in the lobby; actedlike them, was one of them. In the Gold Nugget, Clayte was a veryaverage Gold Nugget guest--don't you see? Commonplace there, just as theother Clayte had been commonplace in a bank or an office. "

Her voice ceased. On the silence it left, Worth spoke up quietly. 

"Bull's eye as usual, Bobs. Every word you say is true. And at the GoldNugget, his name was Henry J. Brundage. He had room thirty on the topfloor. "

Skeet clapped her hands, jumped up and came around the table to kissBarbara on the ear, and tell her she was the most wonderfullest girl inthe world. 

"Heh!" I flared at Worth. "Find that all out to-day in San Francisco?"

"No. "

"Oh, it was the Brundage clew that took you south?"

"Yep. Left Louie on the job at the hotel while I was away. To-day, Iwent after Brundage's automobile. Found he'd kept one in a garage onJackson Street. "

"It's gone, of course--and no trace, " Barbara murmured. 

"Gone since the day of the bank theft, " Worth nodded. "He and the moneywent in it. "

"Say, " I leaned over toward him, "wouldn't it have saved wear and tearif you'd told me at the first that you knew Skeels couldn't be Clayte?"

"Oh, but, Jerry, you were so sure! And Skeels wasn't possible for aminute--never in his little, piking, tin-horn life!"

I don't believe I had seen Worth so happy since he was a boy, playingdetective. I glanced around and pulled myself up; we certainly weren'tmaking ourselves very entertaining for the Vandemans. There they sat, attheir own table, like handsome figureheads, smiling politely, pretendinga decent interest. 

"All this must be a bore to you people, " I apologized. 

"Not at all--not at all, " Vandeman assured us. 

"Well then if you don't mind--Worth, I'll go and use Vandeman'sphone--put my office wise to these Brundage clews of yours. "

Worth nodded. No social scruples were his. I had by no means given upthe belief that Skeels in jail at Tiajuana, would still turn out to beone of the gang. 

I had just got back to the table from my phoning when the doorbell rang;we saw the big Chinese slip noiselessly through the rear into the hallto answer it, coming back a moment later, announcing in his weighty, correct English, "Two gentlemen calling--to see Captain Gilbert. "

"Ask for me?" Worth came to his feet in surprise. "Who told them I washere?"

"I do not know, " the Chinaman spoke unnecessarily as Worth was crossingto the door. "I did not ask them that. "

"Use the living room, Worth, " Vandeman called after him. "We'll waithere. "

With the closing of the door, conversation languished. Even Skeet wasquiet and seemed depressed. My ears were straining for any sound from inthere. As I sat, hand dropped at my side, I suddenly felt under shelterof the screening tablecloth, cold, nervous fingers slipped into mine. Barbara wasn't looking at me, but I gave her a quick glance as I pressedher gripping small hand encouragingly. 

She was turned toward Vandeman. Pale to the lips, her great eyes fixedon the eyes of our host, I saw with wonder how he slowly stirred a spoonabout in his emptied coffee cup, and stared back at her with a facealmost as colorless as her own. The bride glanced from one to the otherof them, and spoke sharply, "What's the matter with you two? You're not uneasy about Worth'scallers, are you?"

"No-no-no--" Vandeman was the first to come out of it, responding to hervoice a good deal as if she dashed cold water in his face, his eyesbreaking away from Barbara's, his lips parted in a nervous smile. He rana hand through his hair--an inelegant gesture for him at table--andlaughed a little. 

"We ought to be in there, " Barbara said to me, a curious stress in hervoice. 

"How funny you talk, Barbie, " Skeet quavered. "What do you think'swrong?" And Ina spoke decidedly, "Worth is one person in the world who can certainly take care ofhimself, and would rather be let alone. "

"If you think there is anything we should do--?" Vandeman begananxiously, and Skeet took a look around at our faces and fairly wailed, "What is it? What's the matter? What do you think they're doing to Worthin there, Barbie?"

"I'd think they were arresting him, " Barbara said in a low, choked tone, "Only they don't know--"

"Arresting him!" I broke in on her, startled, getting halfway to myfeet; then as remembrance came to me, sinking back with, "Certainly not. The murderer of Thomas Gilbert is already in the county jail. I arrestedEddie Hughes this morning. "

"You arrested--Eddie Hughes!" It was a cry from Barbara. The cold littlehand was jerked from mine. Twisting around in her chair, she stared atme with a look that made me cold. "Then you've moved those two steelbolts for Cummings. "

I jumped to my feet. On the instant the door opened, and in it stoodWorth, steady enough, but his brown tanned face was strangely bleached. 

"Jerry, " he spoke briefly. "I want you. The sheriff's come for me. "

CHAPTER XXVI

MRS. BOWMAN SPEAKS

Midnight in the sheriff's office at San Jose. And I had to telephoneBarbara. She'd be waiting up for my message. The minute I heard hervoice on the wire, I plunged in:

"Yes, yes, yes; done all I could. A horse can do no more. They've gotWorth. I--" The words stuck in my throat; but they had to come out--"Ileft him in a cell. "

A sound came over the wire; whether speech or not, it was something Icouldn't get. 

"He's taking it like a man and a soldier, girl, " I hurried. "Not a wordout of him about my having gone counter to his express orders, arrestedHughes, and pulled this thing over on us. "

"Oh, Mr. Boyne! Of course he wouldn't blame you. Neither would I. Youacted for what you thought was his good. The others--"

"Vandeman's already gone home. Tell you he stood by well, Barbara--thattailor's dummy! Surprised me. No, no. Didn't let Jim Edwards come withus; so broken up I didn't want him along--only hurt our case over here, the way he is now. "

"Your case?" she spoke out clearly. "What is the situation?"

"A murder charge against Worth on the secret files. Hughes isout--Cummings got him--took him, don't know where. Can't locate him. "

"Do you need to?"

"Perhaps not, Barbara. What I do need is some one who saw Thomas Gilbertalive that night after Worth left to go back to San Francisco. "

"And if you had that--some one?"

"If we could produce before Cummings one credible witness to that, itwould mean an alibi. I'd have Worth out before morning. "

"Then, Mr. Boyne, get to the Fremont House here as quickly as you can. Mr. Cummings is there. Get him out of bed if you have to. I'll bring theproof you need. "

"But, child!" I began. 

"Don't--waste--time--talking! How long will it take you to get here?"

"Half an hour. "

"Oh! You may have to wait for me a little. But I'll surely come. Wait inMr. Cummings' room. "

Half past twelve when I reached the Fremont House, to find it allalight, its lobby and corridors surging with the crowd of blossomfestival guests. Nobody much in the bar; soft drinks held littleinterest; but in the upper halls, getting to Cummings' room, I passedmore than one open door where the hip-pocket cargoes were unloading, andwas even hailed by name, with invitations to come in and partake. Cummings was still up. The first word he gave me was, "Dykeman's here. "

"Glad of it, " I said. "Bring him in. I want you both. "

It took a good deal of argument before he brought the Western Cerealman from the adjoining room where he had evidently been just gettingready for bed. He came to the conference resentful as a soreheaded oldbear. 

"Maybe you think Worth Gilbert will sleep well to-night--in jail?" Istopped him, and instantly differentiated the two men before me. Cummings took it, with an ugly little half smile; Dykeman rumpled hishair, and bolstered his anger by shouting at me, "This country'll go to the dogs if we make an exempt class of ourreturned soldiers. Break the laws--they'll have to take theconsequences, just as a man that was too old or too sickly to fightwould have to take 'em. If I'd done what Captain Gilbert's done--Iwouldn't expect mercy. "

"You mean, if you'd done what you say he's done, " I countered. "Nothingproved yet. "

"Nothing proved?" Dykeman huddled in his chair and shivered. Cummingsshook out an overcoat and helped him into it. He settled back with aprotesting air of being about to leave us, and finished squeakily, "Didn't need to prove that he had Clayte's suitcase. "

"Good Lord, Mr. Dykeman! You're not lending yourself to accuse a manlike Worth Gilbert of so grave a crime as murder, just because you foundhis ideas irregular--maybe reckless--in a matter of money?"

"Don't answer, Dykeman!" Cummings jumped in. "Boyne's trying to get youto talk. "

The old chap stared at me doubtfully, then broke loose with a snort, "See here, Boyne, you can't get away from it; your man Gilbert hasembarked on a criminal career: mixed up in the robbery of our bank, with Clayte to rob us; had our own attorney go through the form ofraising money to buy us off from the pursuit of Clayte--"

"How about me?" I stuck in the question as he paused for breath. "Do youthink Worth Gilbert would put me on the track of a man he didn't wantfound?"

Cummings cut in ahead to answer for him, "Just the point. You've not done any good at the inquiry; never will, solong as you stand with Worth Gilbert. He needed a detective who wouldbelieve in him through thick and thin. And he found such a man in you. "

I could not deny it when Dykeman yipped at me, "Ain't that true? If it was anybody else, wouldn't you see theconnection? Captain Gilbert came here to Santa Ysobel that Saturdaynight--as we've got witnesses to testify--had a row with hisfather--we've got witnesses for that, too--the word money passed betweenthem again and again in that quarrel--and then the young man had thenerve to walk into our bank next morning with his father's entireholdings of our stock in Clayte's suitcase--Boyne, you're crazy!"

"Maybe not, " I said, reckoning on something human in Dykeman to appealto. "You see I know where Worth got that suitcase. It came out of myoffice vault--evidence we'd gathered in the Clayte hunt. Getting it andusing it that way was his idea of humor, I suppose. "

"Sounds fishy. " Dykeman made an uncomfortable shift in his chair. ButCummings came close, and standing, hands rammed down in the pockets ofhis coat, let me have it savagely. 

"Evidence, Boyne, is the only thing that would give you a license torout men out at this time of night--new evidence. Have you got it? Ifnot--"

"Wait. " I preferred to stop him before he told me to get out. "Wait. " Ilooked at my watch. In the silence we could hear the words of a yawpfrom one of the noisy rooms when a passerby was hailed:

"There she goes! There--look at the chickens!"

A minute later, a tap sounded on the door. Cummings stood by while Iopened it to Barbara, and a slender, veiled woman, taller by half a headin spite of bent shoulders and the droop of weakness which made thegirl's supporting arm apparently necessary. 

At sight of them, Dykeman had come to his feet, biting off anexclamation, looking vainly around the bare room for chairs, thensuggesting, "Get some from my room, Boyne. "

I went through the connecting door to fetch a couple. When I came back, Barbara was still standing, but her companion had sunk into the seat theshivering, uncomfortable old man offered, and Cummings was bringing aglass of water for her. She sipped it, still under the shield of herveil. This was never Ina Vandeman. Could it be that Barbara had draggedMrs. Thornhill from her bed? I saw Barbara bend and whisperreassuringly. Then the veil was swept back, it caught and carried thehat with it from Laura Bowman's shining, copper colored hair, and thedoctor's wife sat there ghastly pale, evidently very weak, but morecomposed than I had ever seen her. 

"I'm all right now, " she spoke very low. 

"Miss Wallace, " Dykeman demanded harshly. "Who is this--lady?"

"Mrs. Bowman, " Barbara looked her employer very straight in the eye. 

"Heh?" he barked. "Any relation to Dr. Bowman--any connection with him?"

"His wife. " Cummings bent and mumbled to the older man for a moment. 

"Laura, " Barbara said gently, "this is Mr. Dykeman. You're to tell himand Mr. Cummings. "

"Yes, " breathed Mrs. Bowman. "I'll tell them. I'm ready to tell anybody. There's nothing in dodging, and hiding, and being afraid. I'm done withit. Now--what is it you want to know?"

Cummings' expression said plainer than words that they didn't want toknow anything. They had their case fixed up and their man arrested, andthey didn't wish to be disturbed. She went on quickly, of herself, "I believe I was the last person who saw Mr. Gilbert alive. I must havebeen. I'd rushed over there, just as Ina told you, Mr. Boyne, betweenthe reception and our getting off for San Francisco. "

"All this concerns the early part of the evening, " put in Cummings. 

"Yes--but it concerns Worth, too. He was there when I came in. .. . It wasvery painful. "

"The quarrel between Captain Gilbert and his father d'ye mean?" Dykemanasked his first question. Mrs. Bowman nodded assent. 

"Thomas went right on, before me, just as though I hadn't been there. Then, when it came my turn, he would have spoken out before Worth of--ofmy private affairs. That was his way. But I couldn't stand it. I wentwith Worth out to his machine. He had it in the back road. We talkedthere a little while, and Worth drove away, going fast, headed for SanFrancisco. "

"And that was the last time you saw Thomas Gilbert alive?" Cummingssummed up for her. 

"I hadn't finished, " she objected mildly. "After Worth was gone, I wentback into the study and pleaded with Thomas for a long time. I pointedout to him that if I'd sinned, I'd certainly suffered, and what I askedwas no more than the right any human being has, even if they may be sounfortunate as to be born a woman. "

Dykeman looked exquisitely miserable; but Cummings was only the lawyergetting rid of an unwanted witness, as he warned her, "Not the slightest need to go into your personal matters, Mrs. Bowman. We know them already. We knew also of your visit to Mr. Gilbert's studythat night, and that you didn't go there alone. Had the testimony beenof any importance to us, we'd have called in both you and JamesEdwards. "

I could see that her deep concern for another steadied Laura Bowman. 

"How do you know all this?" she demanded. "Who told you?"

"Your husband, Doctor Bowman. "

Up came the red in her face, her eyes shone with anger. 

"He did follow me, then? I thought I saw him creeping through theshrubbery on the lawn. "

"He did follow you. He has told us of your being at the study--the twoof you--when young Gilbert was there. "

"See here, Cummings, " I put in, "if Bowman was around the place, then heknows that Worth left before the crime was committed. Why hasn't he toldyou so?"

"He has, " Cummings said neatly; and I felt as though something hadslipped. Barbara kept a brave front, but Mrs. Bowman moaned audibly. 

"And still you've charged Worth Gilbert? Why not Bowman himself? He wasthere. As much reason to suspect him as any of the others. Do you meanto tell me that you won't accept Mrs. Bowman's testimony--and Dr. Bowman's--as proving an alibi for Worth Gilbert? I'm ready to swear thathe was at Tait's at five minutes past ten, was there continuously fromthat time until a little after midnight, when you yourself saw himthere. "

"A little past midnight!" Cummings repeated my words half derisively. "Not good enough, Boyne. We base our charge on the medical statementthat Mr. Gilbert met his death in the small hours of Sunday morning. "

I looked away from Barbara; I couldn't bear her eye. After a stunnedsilence, I asked, "Whose? Who makes that statement?"

"His own physician. Doctor Bowman swears--"

"He?" Mrs. Bowman half rose from her chair. "He'd swear to anything. I--"

"Don't say any more, " Cummings cut her off. And Dykeman mumbled, "Had the whole history of your marital infelicities all over the shop. Too bad such things had to be dragged in. Man seems to be a worthyperson--"

"Doctor Bowman told me positively, " I broke in, "on the Sunday nightthe body was found, that death must have occurred before midnight. "

"Gave that as his opinion--his opinion--then, " Cummings corrected me. 

"Yes, " I accepted the correction. "That was his opinion before hequarreled with Worth. Now he--"

"Slandering Bowman won't get you anywhere, Boyne, " Cummings said. "Hewasn't here to testify at the inquest. Man alive, you know that nothingbut sworn testimony counts. "

"I wouldn't believe that man's oath, " I said shortly. 

"Think you'll find a jury will, " smirked Cummings, and Dykeman croakedin, "A mighty credible witness--a mighty credible witness!"

While these pleasant remarks flew back and forth, a thumping and bumpinghad made itself heard in the hall. Now something came against our door, as though a large bundle had been thrown at the panels. The knobrattled, jerked, was turned, and a man appeared on the threshold, swaying unsteadily. Two others, who seemed to have been holding himback, let go all at once, and he lurched a step into the room. DoctorAnthony Bowman. 

A minute he stood blinking, staring, then he caught sight of his wifeand bawled out, "She's here all right. Tol' you she was here. Can't fool me. Saw her gopast in the hall. "

I looked triumphantly at Dykeman and Cummings. Their star witness--drunkas a lord! So far he seemed to have sensed nothing in the room but hiswife. Without turning, he reached behind him and slammed the door in thefaces of those who had brought him, then advanced weavingly on thewoman, with, "Get up from there. Get your hat. I'll show you. You come 'long homewith me! Ain't I your husband?"

"Doctor Bowman, " peppery little old Dykeman spoke up from the depths ofhis chair. "Your wife was brought here to a--to a--"

"Meeting, " Cummings supplied hastily. 

"Huh?" Bowman wheeled and saw us. "Why-ee! Di'n' know so many gen'lemenhere. "

"Yes, " the lawyer put a hand on his shoulder. "Conference--over theevidence in the Gilbert case. No time like the present for you to say--"

"Hol' on a minute, " Bowman raised a hand with dignity. 

"Cummings, " said Dykeman disgustedly, "the man's drunk!"

"No, no, " owlishly. "'m not 'ntoxicated. Overcome with 'motion. " He tooka brace. "That woman there--'f I sh'd tell you--walk into hotel room, find her with three men! Three of 'em!"

"How much of this are these ladies to stand for?" I demanded. 

"Ladies?" Bowman roared suddenly. "She's m' wife. Where's th' other man?Nothing 'gainst you gen'lmen. Where's he? I'll settle with him. Let thatthing go long 'nough. Too long. Bring him out. I'll settle him now!"

He dropped heavily into the chair Cummings shoved up behind him, staredaround, drooped a bit, pulled himself together, and looked at us; thenhis head went forward on his neck, a long breath sounded--

"And you'll keep Worth Gilbert in jail, run the risk of a suit for falseimprisonment--on that!" I wanted to know. 

"And plenty more, " the lawyer held steady, but I saw his uneasiness withevery snore Bowman drew. 

Barbara crossed to speak low and earnestly to Dykeman. I heard most ofhis answer--shaken, but disposed to hang on, "Girl like you is too much influenced by the man in the case. Heroworship--all that sort of thing. An outlaw is an outlaw. This isn't apersonal matter. Mr. Cummings and I are merely doing our duty as goodcitizens. "

At that, I think it possible that Dykeman would have listened to reason;it was Cummings who broke in uncontrollably, "Barbara Wallace, I was your father's friend. I'm yours--if you'll letme be. I can't stand by while you entangle yourself with a criminal likeWorth Gilbert. For your sake, if for no other reason, I would bedetermined to show him up as what he is: a thief--and his father'smurderer. "

Silence in the room, except the irregular snoring of Bowman, a rustleand a deeply taken breath now and again where Mrs. Bowman sat, her headbent, quietly weeping. On this, Barbara who spoke out clearly, "Those were the last words you will ever say to me, Mr. Cummings, unlessyou should some time be man enough to take back your aspersions andapologize for them. "

He gave ground instantly. I had not thought that dry voice of his couldcontain what now came into it. 

"Barbara, I didn't mean--you don't understand--"

But without turning her head, she spoke to me: "Mr. Boyne, will you takeLaura and me home?" gathering up Mrs. Bowman's hat and veil, shaking thelatter out, getting her charge ready as a mother might a child. "She'snot going back to him--ever again. " Her glance passed over the sleepinglump of a man in his chair. "Sarah'll make a place for her at our houseto-night. "

"See here, " Cummings got between us and the door. "I can't let you golike this. I feel--"

"Mr. Dykeman, " Barbara turned quietly to her employer, "could we passout through your room?"

"Certainly, " the little man was brisk to make a way for us. "I want youto know, Miss Wallace, that I, too, feel--I, too, feel--"

I don't know what it was that Dykeman felt, but Cummings felt my rudeelbow in his chest as I pushed him unceremoniously aside, and opened thedoor he had blocked, remarking, "We go out as we came in. This way, Barbara. "

It was as I parted with the two of them at the Capehart gate that I drewout and handed Mrs. Bowman a small piece of dull blue silk, a round holein it, such as a bullet or a cigarette might have made, with, "I guess you'll just have to forgive me that. "

"I don't need to forgive it, " her gaze swam. "I saw your mistake. But itwas for Worth you were fighting even then; he's been so dear to mealways--I'd have to love any one for anything they did for his sake. "

CHAPTER XXVII

THE BLOSSOM FESTIVAL

Two hours sleep, bath, breakfast, and I started on my early morning runfor the county seat. Nobody else was going my way; but even at thathour, the road was full of autos, buggies, farm wagons, pretty mucheverything that could run on wheels, headed for the festival, alltrimmed and streaming with the blossoming branches of their orchards. These were the country folks, coming in early to make a big day of it;orchardists; ranchers from the cattle lands in the south end of thecounty; truck and vegetable farmers; flower-seed gardeners; the Japs andChinese from their little, closely cultivated patches; this tidestreamed past me on my left hand, as I made my way to Worth and thejailer's office, trying with every mile I put behind me, to bolster mycourage. Why wasn't this shift of the enemy a blessing in disguise? Lettheir setting of the hour for the murder stick, and wouldn't Worth'salibi be better than any we should have been able to dig up for himbefore midnight?

From time to time I was troubled by recollection of Barbara's crushedlook from the moment they sprung it on us, but brushed that aside withthe obvious explanation that her efforts in bringing Mrs. Bowman tospeak out had just been of no use; surely enough to depress her. 

Worth met me, fit, quiet, not over eager about anything. They let ustalk with a guard outside the door. Once alone, he listenedappreciatively while I told him of our interview with Cummings andDykeman as fast as I could pile the words out. 

"Nobody on earth like Bobs, " was his sole comment. "Never was, neverwill be. "

"And now, " I reminded him nervously, "there's the question of thisalibi. You went straight from the restaurant to your room at the Palaceand to bed there?"

"No-o, " he said slowly. "No, I didn't. "

"Well--well, " I broke in. "If you stopped on the way, you can rememberwhere. The people you spoke to will be as good as the clerks andbell-hops at the Palace for your alibi. " He sat silent, thoughtful, andI added, "Where did you go from Tait's, Worth?"

"To a garage--in the Tenderloin--where they keep good cars. I'd hiredmachines from them before. "

"Oh, they knew you there? Then their testimony will--"

"I don't believe you want it, Jerry. It only accounts for the halfhour--or less--right after I left you; all I did was to hire a car. "

"A car, " I echoed vaguely. "What kind of a car? Hired it for when?"

"I asked them for the fastest thing they had in the shop. Told 'em tofill it all round, and see that it was tuned up to the last notch. Iwanted speed. "

"My God, Worth! Do you know what you're telling me?"

"The truth, Jerry. " His eye met mine unflinchingly. "That's what youwant, isn't it?"

"Where did you go?" I groaned. "You must have seen somebody who couldidentify or remember you?"

"Not a solitary human being to identify me. Those I passed--there werepeople out of course, late as it was--saw my headlights as I went by. But I was moving fast, Jerry. I was working off a grouch; I neededspeed. "

"Where did you go?"

"Straight down the peninsula on the main highway to Palo Alto, made thesweep across to the sea, and then up the coast road. I ran into thegarage about dawn. "

"No stops anywhere?"

He shook his head. 

"And that's your alibi?"

"That's my alibi. " Worth looked at me a long while before he saidfinally, "Don't you see, Jerry, that the other side had all this before theyencouraged Bowman to change his mind about when father was shot?"

I did see it--ought to have known from the first. This was what they hadback of them last night in Cummings' room; this explained the lawyer'ssmug self-confidence, Dykeman's violent certainty that Worth was acriminal. A realization of this had whitened Barbara's face, set herlips in that pitiful, straight line. As to their momentary chagrin overBowman; no trouble to them to get other physicians to bolster anyopinion he'd given. Medical testimony on such a point is notoriouslyuncertain. All the jury would want to know was that there could be sucha possibility. I sat there with bent head, and felt myself going topieces. Cummings was right--I was no fit man to handle this job. Mypersonal feelings were too deeply involved. It was Worth's voice thatrecalled me. 

"Cheer up, Jerry, old man. Take it to Bobs. "

Take it to Bobs--the idea of a big, husky old police detective runningto cast his burden on such shoulders! I couldn't quite do it then. Iwent and telephoned the little girl that I was doing the best Icould--and then ran circles for the rest of the day, chasing one vainhope after another, and finally, in the late afternoon, sneaked home toSanta Ysobel. 

Now I had the road more to myself; only an occasional handsome car, where the wealthy were getting in to the part of the festival they'dcare for. In the orchards near town where the big picnic places had beenlaid out with rough board tables and benches, seats for thousands, therewere occasional loud basket lunch parties scattered. All at once I washungry enough to have gone and asked for a handout. 

I went by back streets down to the house to get my mail. There seemed nohuman reason that I should feel it a treachery to have Worth in jail atSan Jose, and be able to walk into his house at Santa Ysobel a free man. The place was empty; Chung had the day off, of course. It was possibleWorth's cook, even, didn't know what had happened to his employer. SantaYsobel had no morning paper. In the confusion of the blossom festival, Iventured to guess that not more than a score of people did as yet knowof the arrest. Our end of town was drained, quiet; nobody over at theVandeman bungalow; looking down at the Square as I made my sneakthrough, I had caught a glimpse of Bronson Vandeman, a great rosette ofapricot blossoms on his coat lapel, making his speech of presentation tothe cannery girl queen, while his wife, Ina, her fair face shaded doublyby a big flower hat and a blossom covered parasol, listened and lookedon. 

One of my pieces of mail concerned the Skeels chase. If my men downthere had Skeels, and Skeels was Clayte, it would mean everything inhandling Cummings and Dykeman. I took out the report and ran hastilythrough it; a formal statement; day by day stuff:

 "_Found Skeels and Dial at Tiajuana. Negotiating to buy saloon and gambling house. Arranged with Jefico for arrest of S. (Expense $20. ) Rurales took S. To jail. (Expense, $4. 50) I interviewed S. , and he said he came here to open a business where he could sell booze. D. Was his partner in proposition. S. Knew nothing of bank affair. Would waive extradition and come back to stand trial at our expense. Interviewed D. He says combined capital of two is $4500. , saved from S's business and D's miner's wages. D. Said--_"

Not much to show up with; but there were three photographs enclosed thatI wanted to try on Cummings and Dykeman. No telling where I'd findeither, but the Fremont House was my best bet. Getting back therethrough the crowd, I saw Skeet Thornhill in a corner drugstore, waitingat its counter. I was afoot, having been obliged to park my roadster inone of the spaces set apart for this purpose. I noticed Vandeman's caralready there. 

I lingered a minute on that corner looking down the slope that led toCity Hall Square. Tent restaurants along the way; sandwiches; hot dogs;coffee; milk; pies; doughnuts. Part way down a hurdy-gurdy in a tentbegan to get patronage again; the school children in white dresses withpink bows in their hair had just finished a stunt in the Square. Theyand their elders were streaming our way, headed for the snake charmers, performing dogs and Nigger-in-the-tank. In the midst of them Vandemanand his wife came afoot. He caught sight of me, hailed, and when Ijoined them, asked quickly, glancing toward the drugstore entrance, "Worth come with you?"

I shook my head. He made that little clucking sound with his tongue thatpeople do when they want to offer sympathy, and find the matter hard toput into words. 

A seller of toy balloons on the corner with a lot of noisy youngstersaround him; the ka-lash, ka-lam of a mechanical piano further down theblock; and young Mrs. Vandeman's staccato tones saying, "I tell Bron that the only thing Worth's friends can do is to go onexactly as if nothing had happened. Don't you think so, Mr. Boyne?"

I agreed mutely. 

"Well, I wish you'd say so to Barbie Wallace, " her voice sharpened. "She's certainly acting as though she believed the worst. "

"Now, Ina, " Vandeman remonstrated. And I asked uncomfortably, "What's Barbie done? Where is she?"

"Up at Mrs. Capehart's. In her room. Doesn't come out at all. Isn'tgoing to the ball to-night. Skeet said she refused to speak to Mr. Cummings. "

"Is that all Skeet said? Vandeman, you've told your wife that Cummingsswore to the complaint?"

"Yes, but--er--there's no animus. The executor of Gilbert's estate--Withall the talk going around--If Worth's proved innocent, he might in theend be glad of Cummings' action. "

"Oh, might he?" Skeet Thornhill had hurried out from the drugstore, apackage of medicine in her hand. Her eyes looked as though she'd beencrying; they flashed a hostile glance over the new brother-in-law, excellently groomed, the big flower favor on his coat, the tall, beautiful sister, all frilly white and flower festival fashion. 

"_If_ Worth's proved innocent!" she flung at them. "Bronse Vandeman, you've got a word too many in when you say that. "

"Just a tongue-slip, Skeeter, " Vandeman apologized. "I hope the boy'llcome through all right--same as you do. "

"You don't do anything about it the same as I do!" Skeet came back. "I'dbe ashamed to 'hope' for a friend to be cleared of a charge like that. If I couldn't _know_ he was clear--clear all the time--I'd try to forgetabout it. "

"See here, Skeet, " Ina obviously restrained herself, "that's what we'reall trying to do for Worth: forget about it--make nothing of it--actexactly as if it'd never happened. You ought to come on out to the ballwith the other girls. You're just staying away because Barbara Wallaceis. "

"I'm not. Some damn fool went and told mother about Worth beingarrested, and made her a lot worse. She's almost crazy. I'd be afraid toleave her alone with old Jane. You get me and this medicine up home--orshall I go around to Capehart's and have Barbie drive me?"

"I'll take you, Skeeter, " Vandeman said. "We're through here. We're forhome to dress, then to the country club--and not leave it again tillmorning. That ball out there has got to be made the biggest thing SantaYsobel ever saw--regardless. Come on. " The crowd swallowed them up. 

Making for the Fremont House, I passed Dr. Bowman's stairway, and onimpulse turned, ran up. I found the doctor packing, very snappish, verysorry for himself. He was leaving next day for a position in the statehospital for the insane at Sefton. His kind have to blow off tosomebody; I was it, though he must have known I had no sympathy tooffer. The hang-over of last night's drunk made emotional the tone inwhich he said, "After all, a man's wife makes or breaks him. Mine's broken me. I couldhave had a fine position at the Mountain View Sanitarium, well paid, among cultured people, if she'd held up her damned divorce suit a littlelonger. "

"And as it is, you have to put up with what Cummings can land you withsuch pull as he has. "

"I'm not complaining of Cummings, " sullenly. "He did the best he couldfor me, I suppose, on such short notice. But a man of my class ispractically wasted in a place of the sort. "

I had learned what I wanted; I carried more ammunition to the interviewbefore me. I found Dykeman in his room, propped up in bed, wheezing withan attack of asthma. A sick man is either more merciful than usual, ormore unmerciful. Apparently it took Dykeman the former way; he acceptedme eagerly, and had me call Cummings from the adjoining room. The lawyerwas half into that costume he had brought from San Francisco. He camequite modern as to the legs and feet, but thoroughly ancient in a shirtof mail around the arms and chest, and carrying a Roman helmet in hishand as though it had been an opera hat. 

"Trying 'em on?" Dykeman whispered at him. 

Cummings nodded with that self-conscious, half-tickled, half-sheepishair that men display when it comes to costume. His greeting to me wascool but not surly. What had happened might go as all in the day's workbetween detective and lawyer. 

"Just seen Bowman, " was my first pass at them. "I gather he's not verywell pleased with the position you got him; seems to think it small payfor a dirty job. "

"What's this? What's this?" croaked Dykeman. "You been getting a placefor Bowman, Cummings?"

"Certainly, " the lawyer dodged with swift, practical neatness. "I'dpromised him my influence in the matter some little time ago. "

"Yes, " I said, "mighty little time ago--the day he promised thetestimony you wanted in the Gilbert case. "

"Anything in what Boyne says, Cummings?" Dykeman asked anxiously. "Youknow I wouldn't stand for that sort of stuff. "

The lawyer shook his head, but I didn't believe it was ended betweenthem; Dykeman was the devil to hang on to a point. This would come upagain after I was gone. Meantime I made haste to shove the photographsbefore them. Cummings passed them back with an indifferent, "What's theidea?"

"You don't recognize him?"

"Never saw the man in my life, " and again he asked, "What's the idea?"

"You'd recognize a picture of Clayte?" I countered with a question of myown. 

"Yes--I think so, " rather dubiously. "But Dykeman would. Show them tohim. "

Dykeman reached for the photographs, spread them out before him, thenlooked up from them peevishly to say, "For the good Lord's sake! Don't look any more like Clayte than it doeslike a horned toad. Is that what you've been wasting your time over, Boyne? If you ask me--"

"I don't ask you anything, " retrieving the pictures, planting them deepin an inner pocket. Then I got myself out of the room. 

Standing on the sidewalk in front of the Fremont House, I felt sort ofbewildered. This last crack had taken all the pep I had left. I suddenlyrealized it was long after dinner time, and I'd had no dinner, no lunch, nothing to eat since an early breakfast. Worth had sent me to thegirl--and I hadn't gone. I dragged myself around to Capehart's cottageas nearly whipped as I ever was in my life. 

I found Barbara with Laura Bowman, every one else off the place, out atthe shows. Those girls sure were good to me; they fed me and didn't askquestions till I was ready to talk. Nothing to be said really, exceptthat I'd failed. I told them of meeting the Vandemans, and gave themIna Vandeman's opinion as to how Worth's friends should conductthemselves just now. 

"So they'll all be out there, " I concluded, "Vandeman and his wifeleading the grand march, her sisters as maids of honor--except Skeet, staying at home with her mother. Cummings goes as a Roman soldier;Doctor Bowman as a Spanish cavalier. Edwards didn't see it as theVandemans do, but after I'd talked to him awhile, he agreed to bethere. "

And suddenly I noticed for the first time how the relative position ofthese two women had shifted. Laura Bowman wasn't red-headed for nothing;out from under the blight of Bowman and that hateful marriage, she hadalready thrown off some of her physical frailness; the nervous tensionshowed itself now in energy. She was moving swiftly about putting torights after my meal while she listened. But Barbara sat lookingstraight ahead of her; I knew she was seeing streets full of carnival, every friend and acquaintance out at a ball--and Worth in a murderer'scell. It wouldn't do. I jumped to my feet with a brisk, "Girl, where's your hat? We'll go to the study and look over all ourpoints once more. Get busy--get busy. That's the medicine for you. "

She gave me a miserable look and a negative shake of the head; but Istill urged, "Worth sent me to you. The last thing he said was, 'Take itto Bobs. '"

Dumbly she submitted. Mrs. Bowman came running with the girl's hat, and, "What about me, Mr. Boyne? Isn't there something I can do?"

"I wish you'd go to the country club--to the ball--the same as all theothers. Got a costume here, haven't you?"

"Yes, I can wear Barbara's, " she glanced to where a pile of soft blackstuff, a red scarf, a scarlet poppy wreath, lay on a chair, "She was tohave gone as 'The Lady of Dreams. '"

Barbara went with me out into the flare of carnival illumination thatpaled the afterglow of a gorgeous sunset. No cars allowed on thesedown-town streets; even walking, we found it best to take the long wayround. To our left the town roared and racketed as though it was afire. Nothing said between us till I grumbled out, "I wish I knew where Cummings was keeping Eddie Hughes. "

Barbara's voice beside me answered unexpectedly, "Here. In Santa Ysobel. Eddie was at Capehart's fifteen minutes beforeyou got there; he came for Bill. A gasoline engine at the city hall hadbroken down. "

I pulled up short for a moment, and looked back at the town. 

"Where'd he go?"

"With Bill, to the city hall. Eddie's one of the queen's guards. They'reall to be at the country club at ten o'clock to review the grand marchthat opens the ball. "

I mustn't let her dwell on that. I hurried on once more, and neither ofus spoke again till I unlocked the study door, snapped on the lights, brought out and put on the table the 1920 diary and the little blueblotter--the last bits of evidence that I felt hadn't been thoroughlyanalysed. Barbara just dropped into a chair and looked from them to mehelplessly. 

"You've read this all--carefully?" she sighed. 

It shook me. To have Barbara, the girl I'd seen get meanings and factsfrom a written page with a mere flirt of a glance, ask me that. What Ireally wanted from her was an inspection of the book and blotter, and adeduction from it. As though she guessed, she answered with a sort ofwail, "I can't, I can't even remember what I did see when I looked at thesebefore. I--can't--remember!"

I went and knelt on the hearth with a pretext of laying a fire there, since the shut-up room was chill. And when I glanced stealthily over myshoulder, she had gone to work; not as I had ever seen her before, butfumbling at the leaves, hesitating, turning to finger the blotter;setting her lips desperately, like an over-driven school-child, butkeeping right on. I spun out my fire building to leave her to herself. Little noises of her moving there at the table; rustle and flutter ofthe leaves; now and again, a long, sobbing breath. At last somethinglike a groan caused me to turn my head and see her, with face pale asdeath, eyes staring across into mine. 

"It was Clayte--Edward Clayte--who killed Mr. Gilbert here--in thisroom. "

The hair on the back of my neck stirred; I thought the girl had gonemad. As I ran over to the table and looked at what was under her hand, it came again. 

"He did. He did. It was Clayte--the wonder man!"

"Do--do you deduce that, Barbara?"

"Did I?" she raised to mine the face of a sick child. "I must have. See--it's here on the blotter: 'y-t-e, ' that's Clayte. Double l-e-r;that's 'teller, ' 'Avenue' is part of 'Van Ness Avenue Bank. ' Oh, yes; Ideduced it, I suppose. Both crimes end in a locked room and a perfectalibi. But--but--don't you see, if it is true--and it is--it is--we'reworse off than we were before. We've the wonder man against us. "

"Barbara, " I cried. "Barbara, come out of it!"

"See? You don't believe in me any more, " and her head went down on thetable. 

I let her cry, while I sat and thought. The broken sentences she'dsobbed out to me began to fit up like a puzzle-game. By all theories ofgood detective work, I should have seen from the first the similarity ofthese crimes. But Clayte, slipping in here to do this murder--and why?What mixed him up with affairs here? And then the icy pang--Dykeman hadseen a connection--Cummings had found one. With them, it was Clayte andhis gang--and his gang was Worth Gilbert. I went and touched Barbara onthe shoulder. 

"I'm going to take you home now. "

"Yes, " tears running down her face as she stumbled to her feet. "I'm afailure. I can't do anything for Worth. "

I wiped her cheeks with my own handkerchief and led her out. As I turnedfrom locking the door, it seemed to me I saw something move in theshrubbery. I asked Barbara Wallace about it. She hadn't noticedanything. Barbara Wallace hadn't noticed anything!

I began to be scared for her. Solemn in the sky above boomed out thetown clock--two strokes. Half past nine. I must get this poor childhome. We were getting in toward the noise and the light when I felt hershiver, and stopped to say, "Did I forget your coat? Why, where's your hat?"

"The hat's back there. I had no coat. It doesn't make any difference. Come on. I can't--can't--I must get home. "

I looked at her, saw she was about at the end of her strength, anddecided quickly, "We'll go straight through the Square. Save time and steps. "

She offered no objection, and we started in where the bands played forthe street dances, amid the raucous tooting of a thousand fish-horns, the clangor of cow-bells, and the occasional snap of the forbiddenfire-cracker. As we turned from Broad Street into Main, I found that thecongestion was greater even than I had supposed. Here, several blocksaway from the city hall, progress was so difficult that I took Barbaraback a block to get the street that paralleled Main. This we couldnavigate slowly. Here, also, everybody was masked. Confetti flew, serpentines unreeled themselves out through the air, dusters splutteredin faces, and among the Pierrettes, Pierrots, Columbines, sombrero-edcowboys, bandana-ed cow-girls, Indians, Sambos, Topsies and PoppyMaidens, Barbara's little white linen slip and soft white sweater, andmy grey business suit, were more conspicuous than would have been theAhkoond of Swat and his Captive Slave. Even after the confetti hadsprinkled her black hair until it reminded me of Skeet's blossom wreath, infinitely multiplied, I still saw the glances through the eye-holes ofmasks follow us wonderingly. 

Opposite the city hall, where we must cross to get to the Capehartstreet, we were again almost stopped by the dense crowd. The Square wasa green-turfed dancing floor; from its stand, an orchestra jazzed outthe latest and dizziest of dances; and countless couples one-stepped onthe grass, on the asphalt of the streets, even over the lawns ofadjacent houses, tree trunks and flower beds adding more things to bedodged. At one corner, where the crowd was thick, we saw a big man beingwound to a pole by paper serpentines. Yelling and capering, the maskeddancers milled around and around him, winding the gay ribbons, whileothers with confetti and the Spanish cascarones, tried to snow himunder. As we came up, a big fist wagged and Bill Capehart's voiceroared, "Hold on! Too much is a-plenty!"

He tore himself loose, streaming with paper strips, bent and filled hisfists from the confetti at his feet. His tormentors howled and droppedback as much as they could for the hemming crowd; he rushed them, heaving paper ammunition in a hail-storm, and reached us in two or threejumps. 

"Golly!" he roared, "Me for a cyclone cellar! This is a riot. You ain'tin costume, either. Wonder they wouldn't pick on you. "

With the words they did. I put Barbara behind me, and was conscious onlyof a blinding snow of paper flakes, the punch and slap of dusters, in anuproar of horns and bells. 

"Good deal like fighting a swarm of bees in your shirt-tail with awillow switch, " old Bill panted at my shoulder. "Gosh!" as the snappingof firecrackers let loose beneath our feet. "Some o' these mosquito-netskirts'll get afire next--then there'll be hell a-popping!"

Close at hand there was a louder report, as of a giant cracker, and atthat Barbara sagged against me. I whirled and put an arm about her. Bill grabbed her from me, and lifted her above the pressure of thecrowd. I charged ahead, shouting, "Gangway! Let us through!"

Willing enough, the mob could not make room for passage until myshoulder, lowered to strike at the breast, forced a way, that closed inthe instant Bill gained through. It was football tactics, with mebucking the line, Bill carrying the ball. Fortunately, the bunch was agood-natured festival gathering, or my rough work might have brought ustrouble. As it was, a short, stiff struggle took us to the outer fringeof the mob. 

"How is she? What happened?" I grunted, coming to a stop. 

"Search me. " Bill twisted around to look at the white face that lay backon his shoulder, with closed lids. Three strokes chimed from the cityhall tower. Barbara's eyes flashed open; as the last stroke trembled inthe air, Barbara's voice came, sharp with breathless urgence, "A quarter of ten! Quick--get me to the country club!"

"Take _you_ there? Now, d'ye mean?" I ejaculated; and holding her like ababy, Bill's eyes flared into mine. "Did something happen to you backthere, girl? Or did you just faint?"

"Never mind about me! There, " that glance of hers that saw everythingindicated a parking place packed with machines half a block away up aside street. "Carry me there. Take one of those cars. Get me to thecountry club. Don't--" as I opened my mouth, "don't ask questions. "

I turned and ran. Bill galloped behind. Barbara had lifted her head tocry after me, "The best one! Pick the fastest!"

I plunged down the line of cars, looking for a good machine and one withwhose drive I was familiar. The guard rushed up to stop me; I showed himmy badge, leaped into the front seat of a speed-built Tarpon, and had itout by the time Bill came up with the girl in his arms. I turned andswung open the tonneau door. Almost with one movement, he lifted her inand climbed after. I started off with braying horn, and at that I had touse caution. Making my way toward the corner of the street that led toBill's house, I felt a small hand clutch the slack of my coat betweenthe shoulders, and Barbara's voice, faint, but with a fury ofdetermination in it, demanded, "Where are you going? I said the country club. "

"All right; I'll go. I'll look after whatever you want out there whenI've got you home. "

"Oh, oh, " she moaned. "Won't you--this one time--take orders?"

I went on past the corner. She had a right to put it just that way. Igave the Tarpon all I dared in town streets. 

"What time is it?" I heard her whispering to Bill. "Eight minutes toten? I have to be there by ten, or it's no use. Can he make it? Do youthink he can make it?"

"Yes, " I growled, crouching behind the wheel. "I'll make it. May have tokill a few--but I'll get you there. "

By this, we'd come out on the open highway, better, but not too clear, either. There followed seven minutes of ripping through the night, ofpeople who ran yelling to get out of our way and hurled curses behindus, only a few cars meeting us like the whirling of comets in terrifyingglimpses as we shot past; and, at last, the country club; strings of gaylanterns, winking ruby tail-lights of machines parked in front of it, the glare from its windows, and the strains of the orchestra in itsballroom, playing "On the Beach at Waikiki. " When she heard it, Barbarathanked God with, "We're in time!"

I took that machine up to the front steps over space never intended forautomobiles, at a pace not proper for lawns or even roads, and onlyhalted when I was half across the walk. Bill rolled from the tonneaudoor and stood by it. I jumped down and came around. 

"Lift me out, and put me on my feet, " Barbara ordered. "Help me--one oneach side. I can walk. I must!"

We crossed a deserted porch; the evening's opening event--the grandmarch--had drawn every one, servants and all, inside. So far, withoutchallenge, meeting no one. We had the place to ourselves till we stood, the three of us alone, before the upper entrance of the assembly room. In there, the last strains of Waikiki died away. I looked to Barbara. She was in command. Her words back there in town had settled that forme. 

"What do we do now?" I asked. 

White as the linen she wore, the girl's face shone with some inner fireof passionate resolution. I saw this, too, in the determined, almostdesperate energy with which she held herself erect, one clenched handpressed hard against her side. 

"Take me in there, Mr. Boyne. And you, " to Capehart, "find a man you cantrust to guard each door of the ballroom. "

"What you say goes. " Big Bill wheeled like a well trained cart-horse andhad taken a step or two, when she called after him, "Arrest any one who attempts to enter. "

"Arrest 'em if they try to git in, " Capehart repeated stoically. "Sure. That goes. " But I interrupted, "You mean if they try to get out. "

At that she gave me a look. No time or breath to waste. Bill, unquestioning, had hurried to his part of the work. I took up mine with, "Forgive me, Barbara. I'll not make that mistake again"; slipped my armunder hers to support her; dragged open the big doors; shoved past thehallman there; and we stepped into the many-colored, moving brillianceof the ballroom. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE COUNTRY CLUB BALL

The ballroom of the country club at Santa Ysobel is big and finelyproportioned. I don't know if anything of the sort could have registeredwith me at the moment, but I remembered afterward my impression of thegreat hall fairly walled and roofed with fruit blossoms, and thegorgeousness of hundreds of costumes. The mere presence of potentialfunds raises the importance of an event. The prune kings and apricotbarons down there, with their wives and daughters in real brocades, satins and velvets, with genuine jewels flashing over them, representedso much in the way of substantial wealth that it seemed to steady thewhole fantastic scene. 

Barbara and I entered on the level of the slightly raised orchestrastand and only half a dozen paces from it. Nobody noticed us much; wecame in right on the turn of things--floor managers darting around, orchestra with bows poised and horns at lips, the whole glitteringcompany of maskers being made ready to weave their "Figure of Eight"across the dancing floor. My poor girl dragged on my arm; her small feetscuffed; I lifted her along, wishing I might pick her up and carry heras Bill had done. I made for an unoccupied musicians' bench; but oncethere, she only leaned against it, not letting go her hold on me, andstood to take in every detail of the confused, moving scene. 

The double doors had swung closed behind us; the hallman there who heldthe knob, now reinforced by a uniformed policeman. The servants' way, atthe further end was shut; men in plain clothes set their backs againstit. And last, Big Bill himself in overalls, a touch of blunt bluerealism, came fogging along the side-wall to swing into place the greatwooden bar that secured the entire group of glass doors which gave onthe porch. Barbara would have seen all these arrangements while I wasgetting ready for my first glance, but I prompted her nervously with alow-toned, "All set, girl, " and then as she still didn't speak, "Bill'sgot every door guarded. "

She nodded. The length of the room away, in the end gallery, was thecannery girl queen and her guard. Even at that distance, I recognizedEddie Hughes, in his pink-and-white Beef Eater togs, a gilded woodenspear in his hand, a flower tassel bobbing beside that long, drab, knobby countenance of his. There he was, the man I'd jailed for ThomasGilbert's murder. Below on the dancing floor, were the two, Cummings andBowman, who had put Worth behind the bars for the same crime. At my sidewas the pale, silent girl who declared that Clayte was the murderer. 

Whispered tuning and trying of instruments up here; flutter and rushabout down on the dancing floor; and Barbara, that clenched left hand ofhers still pressed in hard against her side, facing what problem?

Crash! Boom! We were so close the music fairly deafened us, as, with amultiplied undernote of moving feet, the march began. On came thosepeople toward us, wave behind wave of color and magnificence, dottedwith little black ovals of masks pierced by gleaming eye-holes. I couldsense Barbara reading the room as it bore down on her, and reading itclearly, getting whatever it was she had come there for. Myself, I wasoverwhelmed, drowned in the size and sweep of everything, strugglingalong, whispering to her when I spotted Jim Edwards in his friar's robe, noticed that the Roman soldier who must be Cummings, and Bowman, theSpaniard, squired the Thornhill twins in their geisha girl dresses; thecrimson poppies of a Lady of Dreams looked odd against Laura Bowman'scoppery hair. 

At the head of the procession as they swung around, leading it withsplendid dignity, came a pair who might have been Emperor and Empress ofChina--the Vandemans. To go on with affairs as if nothing hadhappened--though Worth Gilbert was in jail--had been the laid-downpolicy of both Vandeman and his wife. I'd thought it reasonable then;foolish to get hot at it now. The great, shining, rhythmically movingline deployed, interwove, and opened out again until at last the floorwas almost evenly occupied with the many-colored mass. I looked atBarbara; the awful intensity with which she read her room hurt me. Ithad nothing to do with that flirt of a glance she always gave a printedpage, that mere toss of attention she was apt to offer a problem. Thechild was in anguish, whether merely the ache of sorrow, or actualbodily pain; I saw how rigidly that small fist still pressed against theknitted wool of her sweater, how her lip was drawn in and bitten. Herphysical weakness contrasted strangely with the clean cut decision, theabsolute certainty of her mental power. She raised her face and lookedstraight up into mine. 

"Have the music stopped. "

I leaned over and down toward the orchestra leader to catch his eye, holding toward him the badge. His glance caught it, and I told him whatwe wanted. He nodded. For an instant the music flooded on, then at asharp rap of the baton, broke off in mid-motion, as though some greatsinging thing had caught its breath. And all the swaying life and coloron the floor stopped as suddenly. Barbara had picked the moment thatbrought Ina Vandeman and her husband squarely facing us. After the firstinstant's bewilderment, Vandeman and his floor managers couldn't fail torealize that they were being held up by an outsider; with Barbara infull sight up here by the orchestra, they must know who was doing it. Iwondered not to have Vandeman in my hair already; but he and his consortstood in dignified silence; it was his committee who came after me, aMephistopheles, a troubadour, an Indian brave, a Hercules with his club, swarming up the step, wanting to know if I was the man responsible, whythe devil I had done it, who the devil I thought I was, anyhow. Otherswere close behind. 

"Edwards, " I called to the brown friar, "can you keep these fellows offme for a minute?"

Still not a word from Barbara. Nothing from Vandeman. Less than nothing:I watched in astonishment how the gorgeous leader stopped dumb, whilethose next him backed into the couple behind, side stepping, so that thewhole line yawed, swayed, and began to fall into disorder. 

"Cummings, " as I glimpsed the lawyer's chain mail and purple feather, "Keep them all in place if you can. All. "

In the instant, from behind my shoulder Barbara spoke. 

"Have that man--take off his mask. "

A little, shaking white hand pointed at the leader. 

"Mr. Vandeman, " I said. "That's an order. It'll have to be done. "

The words froze everything. Hardly a sound or movement in the greatcrowded room, except the little rustle as some one tried to see better. And there, all eyes on him, Bronson Vandeman stood with his arms at hissides, mute as a fish. Ina fumbled nervously at the cord of her ownmask, calling to me in a fierce undertone, "What do you mean, Mr. Boyne, bringing that girl here to spoil things. This is spite-work. "

"Off--take his mask off! Do it yourself!" Barbara's voice was clear andsteady. 

I made three big jumps of the space between us and the leading couple. Vandeman's committee-men obstructed me, the excited yip going amongstthem. 

"Vandeman--Bronse--Vannie--Who let this fool in here?--Do we throw himout?"

Then they took the words from Edwards; the tune changed to grumblingsof, "What's the matter with Van? Why doesn't he settle it one way oranother, and be done?"

Why didn't he? I had but a breath of time to wonder at that, as I shoveda way through. Darn him, like a graven image there, the only mute, immovable thing in that turmoil! I began to feel sore. 

"You heard what she said?" I took no trouble now to be civil. "She wantsyour mask off. "

No flicker of response from the man, but the Empress of China draggeddown her mask, crying, "Heard what she said? What she wants?" Over the shoulders of the crowdshe gave Barbara Wallace a venomous look, then came at me. 

A little too late. My hand had shot out and snatched the mask from theface of China's monarch. A moment I glared, the bit of black stuff in mygrasp, at the alien countenance I had uncovered. Crowding and craning ofthe others to see. Jabbering, exclaiming all around us. 

"Corking make-up; looks like a sure-enough Chinaman. "

"No make-up at all. The real thing. "

"What's the big idea?"

"Why did he unmask, then?"

"Didn't want to. They made him. "

And last, but loudest, repeated time and again, with wonder, withdistaste, with rising anger, "The Vandeman's Chinese cook!"

For with the ripping away of that black oval, I had looked into theslant, inscrutable eyes of Fong Ling. Hemmed in by the crowd, he couldbut face me; he did so with a kind of unhuman passivity. 

And the committee went wild. Their own masks came off on the run. I sawCummings' face, Bowman's; Eddie Hughes slid from the balcony stair andbucked the crowd, pushing through to the seat of war. The grand marchhad become a jostling, gabbling chaos. 

Barbara, up there, above it all, knew what she was about. I had utterconfidence in her. But she was plainly holding back for a furtherdevelopment, her eyes on the entrances; and what the devil was my nextmove?

Ina Vandeman wheeled where she stood and faced the room, both handsthrown up, laughing. 

"It was meant to be a joke--a great, big foolish joke!" her high treblerang out. "Bron's here somewhere. Wait. He'll tell you better than Icould. At a masquerade--people do--they do foolish things. .. . They--"

"Is Bronse Vandeman here?" I questioned Fong Ling. The Chinaman's stifflips moved for the first time, in his formal, precise English. 

"Yes, sir. Mr. Vandeman will explain. " He crossed his hands and resignedthe matter to his employer. And I demanded of Ina Vandeman, "You tell usyour husband's present--in this room? Now?" and when her answer wasdrowned in the noise, I roared, "Vandeman! Bronson Vandeman! You're wanted here!"

No answer. Edwards took up the call after me; the committee yelled thename in all keys and variations. In the middle of our squawking, a minordisturbance broke out across by the porch entrance, where Big BillCapehart stood. As I looked, he turned over his post to Eddie Hughes, who came abreast of him at the moment, and started, scuffling andstruggling toward us, with a captive. 

"I had my orders!" his big voice boomed out. "Pinch any one that triedto get in. Y'don't pass me--not if you was own cousin to God A'mighty!"

On they came through the crowd, all mixed up; blue overalls, and aflapping costume whose rich, many-colored silk embroideries, flashedlike jewels. A space widened about us for them. The big garage man spunhis catch to the center of it, so that he faced the room, his back tothe orchestra. 

"Wanted in, did ya? Now yer in, what about it?"

What about it, indeed? In Bill's prisoner, as he stood there twitchingineffectually against that obstinate hold, breathing loud, shakilysettling his clothes, we had, robe for robe, cap for cap, a duplicateEmperor of China!

And the next moment, this figure took off its mask and showed the faceof Bronson Vandeman. 

Dead silence all about us; Capehart loosened his grip, abashed but stilltruculent. 

"Dang it all, Mr. Vandeman, if you didn't want to get mussed up, whatmade you fight like that?"

"Fight?" Vandeman found his voice. "Who wouldn't? I was late, and you--"

"Bron!" After one desperate glance toward the girl up on the platform, Ina ran to him and put a hand on his arm. "They stopped the march. .. . Your--the--they spoiled our joke. But have them start the music again. You're here now. Let's go on with the march . .. Explain afterward. "

"Good business!" Vandeman filled his chest, glanced across at Fong Ling, and gave his social circle a rather poor version of the usualwhite-toothed smile. "Jokes can wait--especially busted ones. On withthe dance; let joy be unrefined!"

Sidelong, I saw the orchestra leader's baton go up. But no musicfollowed. It was at Barbara the baton had pointed, at Barbara that allthe crowded company stared. Her little white dress clung to her slenderfigure. I saw that now she was in the strange Buddha pose. A few flecksof silver paper, still in her black hair, made it sparkle. But it wasBarbara's eyes that held us all spellbound. In her colorless face thosewonderful openings of black light seemed to look through and beyond us. For an instant there was no stir. Hundreds of faces set toward her, heldby the wonder of her. Fong Ling's yellow visage moved for the first timefrom its immobility with a sort of awe, a dread. And when my gaze cameback to her, I noticed that, with the dropping of her hands to join thefinger-tips, she had left, where that little, pressing fist had been, ablur of red on the white sweater. Over me it rushed with the force ofcalamity, she had been wounded when she sank down back there in thecrowd. It was a shot--not a giant cracker--we had heard. 

"Vandeman, " I whirled on him, "You shot this girl. You tried to killher. "

Sensation enough among the others; but I doubt if he even heard me. Hisgaze had found Barbara; all the bounce, all the jauntiness was out ofthe man, as he stared with the same haunted fear his eyes had held whenshe concentrated last night at his own dinner table. 

She was concentrating now; could she stand the strain of it, with itsweakening of the heart action, its pumping all the blood to the brain? Ishouldered my way to her, and knelt beside her, begging, "Don't, Barbara. Give it up, girl. You can't stand this. "

Her hands unclasped. Her eyes grew normal. She relaxed, sighingly. Ileaned closer while she whispered to me the last addition in thatproblem of two and two--the full solution. Armed, I faced Vandeman oncemore. 

Something seemed to be giving way in the man; his lips were almost aspale as his face, and that had been, from the moment he uncovered it, like tallow. He looked withered, smaller; his hair where it had beenpressed down by mask and cap, crossed his forehead, flat, smooth, dullbrown. I saw, half consciously, that Fong Ling was gone. An accomplice?No matter; the criminal himself was here--Barbara's wonder man. It wasto him I spoke. 

"Edward Clayte, " at the name, Cummings clanked around front to stare. "Ihold a warrant for your arrest for the theft of nine hundred and eightyseven thousand dollars from the Van Ness Avenue Savings Bank of SanFrancisco. "

He made a sick effort to square his shoulders; fumbled with his hair totoss it back from its straight-down sleekness, as Clayte, to thepompadoured crest of Vandeman. How often I had seen that gesture, notunderstanding its significance. Cummings, at my side, drew in a breath, with, "Why--damn it!--he is Clayte!"

"All right, " I let the words go from the corner of my mouth at thelawyer, in the same hushed tones he'd used. "See how you like this nextone, " and finished, loud enough so all might hear, "And I charge you, Edward Clayte--Bronson Vandeman--with the murder ofThomas Gilbert. "

CHAPTER XXIX

UNMASKED

Disgrace was in the air; the country club had seen its vice president inhandcuffs. There was a great gathering up of petticoats and raising ofmoral umbrellas to keep clear of the dirty splashings. It made me thinkof a certain social occasion in Israel some thousands of years ago, whenAbsalom, at his own party, put a raw one over on his brother Amnon, andall the rest of King David's sons looked at each other with jawssagging, and "every man gat himself up upon his mule and fled. " Here, itwas limousines; more than one noble chariot--filled with members of thefaction who'd helped to rush Vandeman into office over the claims ofolder members--rolled discredited down the drive. 

Yet a ball is the hardest thing in the world to kill; like a lizard, ifyou break it in two, the head and tail go right on wrigglingindependently. Also, behind this masked affair at the country club wasthe business proposition of a lot of blossom festival visitors from allover the state who mustn't be disappointed. By the time I'd finished outin front, getting my prisoner off to the lock-up, sending Eddie Hughes, with Capehart and the other helpers he'd picked up to guard the Vandemanbungalow, handed over to the Santa Ysobel police the matter of findingFong Ling, and turned back to see how Barbara was getting on, the musicsounded once more, the rhythmic movement of many feet. 

"The boys have got it started again, " Jim Edwards joined me in the hall, his tone still lowered and odd from the amazement of the thing. "Curious, that business in there yesterday, " a nod indicated the littlewriting room toward which we moved. "Bronse stepping in, brisk and cool, for you to question him; pleasant, ordinary looking chap. Would you sayhe had it in his head right then to murder you--or Barbara--if you cametoo hot on his trail?"

"Me?" I echoed sheepishly. "He never paid me that compliment. He wasn'tafraid of me. I think Barbara sealed her own fate, so far as he wasconcerned, when she let Worth pique her into doing a concentrating stuntat Vandeman's dinner table last night. The man saw that nothing sheturned that light on could long stay hidden. He must have decided, then, to put her out of the way. As for his wife--well, however much or littleshe knew, she'd not defend Barbara Wallace. "

At that, Edwards gave me a look, but all he said was, "Cummings has suffered a complete change of heart, it seems. I left himin the telephone booth, just now, calling up Dykeman. He'll certainlykeep the wires hot for Worth. "

"He'd better, " I agreed; and only Edwards's slight, dark smile answeredme. 

"There's a side entrance here, " he explained mildly, as we came to theturn of the hall. "I'll unlock it; and when Barbara's ready to be takenhome, we can get her out without every one gaping at her. "

He was still at the lock, his back to me, when a door up front slammed, and a Spanish Cavalier came bustling down the corridor, pulling off amask to show me Bowman's face, announcing, "I think you want me in there. That girl should have competent medicalattention. "

"She has that already, " I spoke over my shoulder. "And if she hadn't, doyou think she'd let you touch her, Bowman? Man, you've got no humanfeeling. If you had a shred, you'd know that to her it is as true youtried to take Worth's life with your lying testimony as it is thatVandeman murdered Worth's father with a gun. "

"Hah!" the doctor panted at me; he was fairly sober, but still a bitthick in the wits. "You people ain't classing me with this crookVandeman, are you? You can't do that. No--of course--Laura's set you allagainst me. "

Edwards straightened up from the door. With his first look at thatfierce, dark face, the doctor began to back off, finally scuttlingaround the turn into the main hall at what was little less than a run. 

They had Barbara sitting in the big Morris chair while they finishedadjusting bandages and garments. Our young cub of a doctor, silverbuttoned velveteen coat off, sleeves rolled up, hailed us cheerily, "That bullet went where it could get the most blood for the least harm, I'd say. Have her all right in a jiffy. At that, if it had been a littlefurther to one side--"

And I knew that Edward Clayte's bullet--Bronson Vandeman's--had narrowlymissed Barbara's heart. 

"This wonderful girl!" the doctor went on with young enthusiasm, as hebandaged and pinned. "Sitting up there, wounded as she was, andforgetting it, she looked to me more than human. Sort of effect asthough light came from her. "

"I was ashamed of myself back there in the Square, Mr. Boyne, " Barbara'svoice, good and strong, cut across his panegyric. "Never in my life didI feel like that before. My brain wasn't functioning normally at all. Iwas confused, full of indecision. " She mentioned that state, sopainfully familiar to ordinary humanity, as most people would speak ofbeing raving crazy. "It was agonizing, " she smiled a little at theothers. "Poor Mr. Boyne helping me along--we'd got somehow into a crowd. And I was just a lump of flesh. I hardly knew where we were. Thensuddenly came the sound of the shot, the stinging, burning feeling in myside. It knocked my body down; but my mind came clear; I could use it. "

"I'll say you could, " I smiled. "From then on, Bill Capehart and I werethe lumps of flesh that you heaved around without explanation. "

"There wasn't time; and I was afraid you'd find out what had happened tome, and wouldn't bring me here, " she said simply. "I knew that the onemotive for silencing me was the work I'd been doing for Mr. Boyne. "

"Sure, " I said, light breaking on me. "And every possible suspect in theGilbert murder case was under this roof--or supposed to be--the grandmarch would be the show-down as to that. And just then the clock struck!Poor girl!"

"It was a race against time, " Barbara agreed. "If we could get herefirst, hold the door against whoever came flying to get in, we'd havethe one who shot me. "

"But, Barbara child, " Laura Bowman was working at a sweater sleeve onthe bandaged side. "You did get here and caught Bronson Vandeman; it hadworked out all right. Why did you risk sitting up in that strained pose, wounded as you were, to concentrate?"

"For Worth. I had to relate this crime to the one for which he'd beenarrested. Within the hour, I'd gathered facts that showed me EdwardClayte killed Worth's father. When I brought that man and his crime tostand before me, and Bronson Vandeman and his crime to stand besideit--as I can bring things when I concentrate on them--I found theydove-tailed--the impossible was true--these two were one man. " Shelooked around at the four of us, wondering at her, and finished, "Can'tthey take me home now, doctor?"

"Sit and rest a few minutes. Have the door open, " the young fellow said. And on the instant there came a call for me from the side entrance. 

"Mr. Boyne--are you in there? May I speak to you, please?"

It was Skeet Thornhill's voice. I went out into the entry. There, climbing down from the old Ford truck, leaving its engine running, wasSkeet herself. Her glance went first to the door I closed behind me. 

"Yes, " I answered its question. "She's in there. " Then, moved by thefrank misery of her eyes, "She'll be all right. Very little hurt. "

She said something under her breath; I thought it was "Thank God!"looked about the deserted side entrance, seemed to listen to theflooding of music and movement from the ballroom, then lifting to minea face so pale that its freckles stood out on it, faltered a stepcloser and studied me. 

"They phoned us, " scarcely above a whisper. "Mother sent me for thegirls and--Ina. Mr. Boyne, " a break in her voice, "am I going to be ableto take Ina back with me? Or is she--do they--?"

"Wait, " I said. "Here she comes now, " as Cummings brought young Mrs. Vandeman toward us. She moved haughtily, head up, a magnificent eveningwrap thrown over her costume, and saw her sister without surprise. 

"Skeet, " she crossed and stood with her back to me, "there's been sometrouble here. Keep it from mother if you can. I'm leaving--but we'll getit all fixed up. How did you get here? Can I take you back in thelimousine?"

The big, closed car, one of Vandeman's wedding gifts to her, purredslowly up the side drive, circling Skeet's old truck, and stopped alittle beyond. Skeet gave it one glance, then reached a twitching handto catch on the big silken sleeve. 

"You can't go to the bungalow, Ina. As I came past, they were placingmen around it to--to watch it. "

"_What!_" Ina wheeled on us, looking from one to the other. "Mr. Boyne--Mr. Cummings--who had that done?"

"Does it matter?" I countered. She made me tired. 

"Does it matter?" she snapped up my words, "Am I to be treated as if--asthough--"

Even Ina Vandeman's effrontery wouldn't carry her to a finish on that. Icompleted it for her, explicitly, "Mrs. Vandeman, whether you are detained as an accomplice or merely amaterial witness, I'm responsible for you. I would have the authorityto allow you to go with your sister; but you'll not be permitted to evenenter the bungalow. "

"It's nearly midnight, " she protested. "I have no clothes but thiscostume. I must go home. "

"Oh, come on!" Skeet pleaded. "Don't you see that doesn't do any good, Ina? You can get something at our house to wear. "

She gave me a long look, her chin still high, her eyes hard andunreadable. Then, "For the present, I shall go to a hotel. " She laid ahand on Skeet's shoulder, but it was only to push her away. "Tellmother, " evenly, "that I'll not bring my trouble into her house. Oh--youwant Ernestine and Cora? Well, get them and go. " And with firm step shewalked to her car. 

I nodded to Cummings. 

"Have one of Dykeman's men pick her up and hang tight, " I said, and hesmiled back understandingly, with, "Already done, Boyne. I want to speak to Miss Wallace--if I may. Willyou please see for me?"

A moment later, he marched shining and jingling, in through a door thathe left open behind him, pulled off his Roman helmet as though it hadbeen a hat, and stood unconsciously fumbling that shoe-brush thing theytrim those ancient lids with. 

"Barbara, " he met the eyes of the girl in the chair unflinchingly, "youtold me last night that the only words I ever could speak to you wouldbe in the way of an apology. Will you hear one now? I'm ready to makeit. Talk doesn't count much; but I'm going the limit to put WorthGilbert's release through. "

There was a long silence, Barbara looking at him quite unmoved. Behindthat steady gaze lay the facts that Worth Gilbert's life and honor hadbeen threatened by this man's course; that she herself was only alivebecause the bullet of that criminal whom his action unconsciouslyshielded missed its aim by an inch: Worth's life, her life, their loveand all that might mean--and Barbara had eyes you could read--I didn'tenvy Cummings as he faced her. Finally she said quietly, "I'll accept your apology, Mr. Cummings, when Worth is free. "

CHAPTER XXX

A CONFESSION

In the dingy office of the city prison, with its sand boxes and barrelstove, its hacked old desks, dusty books and papers, I watched BronsonVandeman, and wondered to see how the man I had known played in and outacross his face with the man Edward Clayte, whom I had tried to imagine, whom nobody could describe. 

Helping to recover Clayte's loot for Worth Gilbert looked to theopposition their best bet for squaring themselves. Dykeman from his sickbed, had dug us up a stenographer; Cummings had climbed out of his tinclothes and come along with us to the jail. They wanted the screws puton; but I intended to handle Vandeman in my own way. I had halted thelawyer on the lock-up threshold, with, "Cummings, I want you to keep still in here. When I'm done with the man, you can question him all you want--if he's left anything to be told. " Ianswered a doubtful look, "Did you see his face there in the ball roomas he looked up at Barbara Wallace? He thinks that girl knowseverything, like a supreme being. He's still so shaken that he'd spillout anything--everything. He'll hardly suppose he's telling us anythingwe don't know. "

And Vandeman bore out expectations. Now, provided with a raincoat totake the place of his Mandarin robe, his trousers still the lilac satinones of that costume, he surveyed us and our preparations with a halfsmile as we settled our stenographer and took chairs ourselves. 

"I look like hell--what?" He spoke fast as a man might with a drinkahead. But it was not alcohol that was loosening his tongue. "Why can'tsome one go up to my place and get me a decent suit of clothes? Godknows I've plenty there--closets full of them. "

"Time enough when th' Shurff gets here, " Roll Winchell, the townmarshall grunted at him. "I'm not taking any chances on you, Mr. Vandeman. You'll do me as you are. "

"Stick a smoke in my face, Cummings, " came next in a voice that twangedlike a stretched string. "Damn these bracelets! Light it, can't you?Light it. " He puffed eagerly, got to his feet and began walking up anddown the room, glancing at us from time to time, raising the manacledhands grotesquely to his cigar, drawing in a breath as though to speak, then shaking his head, grinning a little and walking on. I knew themood; the moment was coming when he must talk. The necessity to reel outthe whole thing to whomever would listen was on him like a sneeze. It'salways so at this stage of the game. 

For all the hullabaloo in the streets, we were quiet enough here, sincethe lock-up at Santa Ysobel lurks demurely, as such places are apt todo, in the rear of the building whose garbage can it is. Our pacingcaptive could keep silent no longer. Shooting a sidelong glance at me, he broke out, "I'm not a common crook, Boyne, even if I do come of a family of them, and my father's in Sing Sing. I put him there. They'd not have caughthim without. He was an educated man--never worked anything but bigstuff. At that, what was the best he could do--or any of them? Make ahaul, and all they got out of it was a spell of easy money that theyonly had the chance to spend while they were dodging arrest. Sooner orlater every one of them I knew got put away for a longer or shorterterm. Growing up like that, getting my education in the public schoolsdaytimes, and having a finish put on it nights with the gang, I decidedthat I was going to be, not honest, but the hundredth man--thethousandth--who can pull off a big thing and neither have to hide nor goto prison. "

This was promising; a little different from the ordinary brag; Isignaled inconspicuously to our stenographer to keep right on the job. 

"When I was twenty-four years old, I saw my chance to shake the gang andtry out my own idea, " Clayte rattled it off feelinglessly. "It was alone hand for me. My father had made a stake by a forgery; checks on theCity bank. I knew where the money was hid, eight thousand and seventynine dollars. It would just about do me. I framed the old man--I toldyou he was in Sing Sing now--took my working capital and came out hereto the Coast. That money had to make me rich for life, respected, comfortable. I figured that my game was as safe as dummy whist. "

"Yeh, " said Roll Winchell, the marshal, gloomily, "them high-tonedEastern crooks always comin' out here thinkin' they'll find the Coast asoft snap. "

"Two years I worked as a messenger for the San Francisco Trust Company, "Clayte's voice ran right on past Winchell's interruption, "a modelemployee, straight as they come; then decided they were too big for meto tackle, and used their recommendation to get a clerk's job with theVan Ness Avenue concern. I was after the theft of at least a halfmillion dollars, with a perfect alibi; and the smaller institutionsuited my plan. It took me four years to work up to paying teller, but Iwasn't hurrying things. I was using my capital now to build that perfectalibi. "

He glanced around nervously as the stenographer turned a leaf, then wenton, "I'd picked out this town for the home of the man I was going to be. Itsuited me, because it was on a branch line of the railway, hardly usedat all by men whose business was in the city, and off the main highwayof automobile travel; besides, I liked the place--I've always liked it. "

"Sure flattered, " came the growl as Winchell stirred in his chair. 

"My bungalow and grounds cost me four thousand; at that it was arun-down place and I got it cheap. The mahogany--old family pieces thatI was supposed to bring in from the East--came high. Yet maybe you'd besurprised how the idea took with me. I used to scrimp and save off mysalary at the bank to buy things for the place, to keep up the rightscale of living for Bronson Vandeman, traveling agent for easternmanufacturers, not at home much in Santa Ysobel yet, but a man of finefamily, rich prospects, and all sorts of a good fellow, settled in theplace for the rest of his days. "

He turned suddenly and grinned at me. 

"You swallowed it whole, Boyne, when you walked into my house lastnight--the old family furniture I bought in Los Angeles, the second-handlibrary, that family portrait, with a ring on my finger, and the samepainted in on what was supposed to be my father's hand. "

"Sure, " I nodded amiably, "You had me fooled. "

"And without a bit of crude make-up or disguise, " he rubbed it in. "Itwas a change of manner and psychology for mine. As Edward Clayte--andthat's not my name, either, any more than Vandeman--I wasdescription-proof. I meant to be--and I was. It took--her--the girl, "his face darkened and he jerked at his cigar, "to deduce that anonentity who could get away with nearly a million dollars and leave notrail was some man!"

I raised my head with a start and stared at the man in his raincoat andlilac silk pantaloons. 

"That's so, " I fed it to him, "She had a name for you. She called youthe wonder man. "

"Did she!" a pleased smile. "Well, I'll give her right on that. I wassome little wonder man. Listen, " his insistent over-stimulated voicewent eagerly on, "The beauty of my scheme was that up to the very lastmove, there was nothing criminal in my leading this double life. Yousee--as I got stronger and stronger here in Santa Ysobel, I bought agood machine, a speedster that could burn up the road. Many's the stagsupper I've had with the boys there in my bungalow, and been back behindthe wicket as Edward Clayte in the Van Ness Avenue bank on time nextmorning. I was in that room at the St. Dunstan about as much as afellow's in his front hall. I walked through it to Henry J. Brundage'sroom at the Nugget; I stayed there more often than I did at the St. Dunstan, unless I came on here. 

"I'd left marriage out. Then that night four years ago when Ina had herlittle run-in with old Tom Gilbert and got her engagement to Worthsmashed, I saw there might be girls right in the class I was trying tobreak into that would be possible for a man like me. The date for ourwedding was set, when Thomas Gilbert remarked to me one afternoon as wewere coming off the golf links together, that he was buying a block ofVan Ness Savings Bank stock. For a minute I felt like caving in hishead, then and there, with the golf club I carried. What a hell of athing to happen, right at the last this way! Ten chances to one I'd havethis man to silence; but it must be done right. Not much room for murderin so full a career as mine--holding down a teller's job, running forthe vice presidency of the country club, getting married in style--butevery time I'd look up from behind my teller's grille, and see any onenear the size of old Gilbert walk in the front door, it gave me theshivers. I'd put more than eight years of planning and hard work intothis scheme, and you'll admit, Boyne, that what I had was some alibi. Awedding like that in a town of this size makes a big noise. I managed tobe back and forth so much that people got the idea I was hardly out ofSanta Ysobel. The Friday night before, I had a stag supper at my house, and Saturday morning if any one had called, Fong Ling would have toldthem I was sleeping late and couldn't be disturbed. On the forenoon ofmy wedding day, then, I sat as Edward Clayte in my teller's cage, thesuitcase I had carried back and forth empty for so many Saturdays nowloaded with currency and securities, not one of which was traceable, andwhose amount I believed would run close to a million. It was withinthree minutes of closing time, when some one rapped on the counter at mywicket, and I looked straight up into the face of old Tom Gilbert. 

"I saw a flash of doubtful recognition in his eyes, but didn't dare toavoid them while counting bills and silver to pay his check. If I haddone so, he would certainly have known me. As it was, I saw that Iconvinced him--almost. I watched him as he went out, saw him hesitate alittle at the door of Knapp's office--he wasn't quite sure enough. Iknew the man. The instant he made certain, he would act. 

"The old devil wasn't on terms to attend the reception at the Thornhillplace, but I located him in an aisle seat, when I first came from thevestry with my best man. All through the ceremony I felt his eyes boringinto my back. When I finally faced him, as Ina and I walked out, man andwife, I knew he recognized me, and almost expected him to step out anddenounce me. But no--a fellow leading a double life was all he saw init; bigamy was the worst he'd suspect me of at the moment. He didn'tgive Ina much, wouldn't lift a finger to defend her. 

"Meantime, the manner of his taking off lay easy to my hand. I'd studiedthe situation through that skylight, seen Ed Hughes juggle the boltswith his magnets, and mapped the thing out. Gilbert killed there, theroom found bolted, was a cinch for suicide. When the reception at theThornhill house was over, I made an excuse of something needed for thejourney, and started across to my bungalow. It was common for all of usto cross through the lawns; I hid in the shrubbery. 

"There were people with Gilbert, no chance for me to do anything. Istood there and nearly went out of my hide with impatience over thedelays, while he had his row with Worth, when Laura Bowman and JimEdwards came and braced him to let up on his persecution of them. Mrs. Bowman finally left; he went with her toward the front. Now was mychance; I dodged into the study, jerked his own pistol from its holster, squeezed myself in behind the open door and waited. He came back; I lethim get into the room, past me a little, and when at some sound I made, he turned, the muzzle of the gun was shoved against his chest and fired. 

"I'd barely finished pressing Gilbert's fingers around the pistol buttwhen I heard a cry outside, jumped to the door, shut and bolted it justas my mother-in-law ran in across the lawns. I gathered that she'd beenthere earlier to get those three leaves out of the diary that you wereso interested in, Boyne; had just read them and come back to have it outwith old Tom. She hung around for five minutes, I should say, beating onthe door, calling, asking if anything was wrong. 

"My one big mistake in the study was that diary of 1920. It lay open onthe desk where he'd been writing. It did tell of his having identifiedme as Clayte. I'd not expected it, and so I didn't handle it well. Timepressed. I couldn't carry it with me; I tore out the leaf, stuck thebook into the drainpipe, and ran. 

"And after all, " he summed up, "my plans would have gone through onschedule; you never could have touched me with your clumsy, police-detective methods, if it hadn't been for the girl. "

He dropped his head and stood brooding a moment, demanded another smoke, got it, shrugged off some thought with a gesture, and finished, "I was in too deep to turn. It was her life--or mine. Things wentcontrary. We couldn't get her to come out to the masquerade, where itwould have been easy. With those two Mandarin costumes, Fong Ling in myplace, I had my time from the hour we put on the masks till midnight. Another perfect alibi. Well--it didn't work. They say you have to shoota witch with a silver bullet. And she's more than human. "

A siren's dry shriek as the Sheriff's gasoline buggy made its waythrough the crowded street outside. Cummings raised his brows at me, gotmy nod of permission, and shot his first question at the prisoner. 

"Vandeman, where's the money?"

"Not within a hundred miles of here, " instantly. 

"You took it south with you--on your wedding trip?" Cummings wouldpersist. But our man, so expansive a moment ago, had, as I knew he wouldat direct mention of his loot, turned sullen, and he started for the SanJose jail, mum as an oyster. 

CHAPTER XXXI

THE MILLION-DOLLAR SUITCASE

The Sheriff had gone with his prisoner; Cummings left; and then therecame to me, in the street there before the lock-up, riding with JimEdwards in his roadster, a Worth Gilbert I had never known. Quiet he hadbeen before; but never considerate like this. When I rushed up to himwith my triumph and congratulations, and he put them aside, it was witha curious gentleness. 

"Yes, yes, Jerry; I know. Vandeman turned out to be Clayte. " Then, noticing my bewilderment, "You see, Jim let it slip that Barbara's hurt. Where is she?" And Edwards leaned around to explain. 

"When we came past Capehart's, and she wasn't there, I--"

"Oh, that's only a scratch, " I hurried to assure the boy. "Barbara'll beall right. "

"So Jim said, " he agreed soberly. "I'm afraid you're both lying to me. "

"All right, " I climbed in beside him. "We'll go and see. She's up atyour house--waiting for you. "

As we headed away for the other end of town, he spoke again, halfinterrogatively, "Vandeman shot her?" and when I nodded. "He's on his way to jail. I'mout. But I'm the man that's responsible for what's happened to her. Dragged her into this thing, in the first place. She hated thoseconcentrating stunts; and I set her to do one at that woman's table. Tohelp play my game--I risked her life. "

I listened in wonder; sidelong, in the dimness, I studied the carriageof head and shoulders: no diminution of power; but a new use of it. Thiswas not the crude boy who would knock everybody's plans to bits for awhim; Worth had found himself; and what a man!

"How does it look for recovering the money, Boyne?" Edwards questionedas we drove along. 

I plunged into the hottest of that stuff Clayte-Vandeman had spilled, talked fascinatingly, as I thought, for three minutes, and paused tohear Worth say, "Who's with Barbara at my house?"

"Mrs. Bowman, " I said in despair, and quit right there. 

We came into Broad Street a little above the Vandeman bungalow which layblack and silent, the lights of Worth's house showing beyond. As weturned the corner, a man jumped up from the shadow of the hedge wherethe Vandeman lawn joined the Gilbert place; there was a flash; thereport of a gun; our watchers had flushed some one. I'd barely had timeto say so to the others when there was a second sharp crack, then thewhine of a ricochetting chunk of lead as it zipped from the asphalt tosing over our heads. 

"Beat it!" I yelled. "Stop the car and get to cover!"

Edwards slowed. A moment Worth hung on the running board, peering in thedirection of the sounds. I started to climb out after him. There cameanother shot from up ahead, and then a shout. As I tumbled to my feet inthe dark road, Worth had started away on the jump. And I saw then, whatI'd missed before, that the man who had burst from the hedge, wasrunning zig-zag down the open roadway toward us. He was making his legsspin, and dodging from side to side as if to duck bullets. Worth headedstraight for him, as though it wasn't plain that some one out of sightsomewhere was making a target of the runner. 

Not the kind of a scrap I care for; in a half light you can't tellfriend from foe; but Worth went to it--and what was there to do butfollow? I shouted and blew my whistle, hoping our men would hear, heed, and let up shooting. At the moment of my doing so, Worth closed with theman, who dropped something he was carrying, and tackled low, lunging atthe boy's knees, aiming I could see to let Worth dive over and scrape upthe pavement with his face. 

No dodging that tackle; it caught Worth square; he even seemed to springup for the dive; and somehow he carried his opponent with him to softenthe fall. They came down together in the middle of the hard road withthe shock of a railway collision; rolled over and over like dogs in ascrap, only there wasn't any growling or yelping. It was deadly quiet;not for an instant could you tell which was which, or whether thewhirling, pelting tangle of arms and legs was man, beast or devil. That's why, even when I got near enough, I didn't dare plant a large, thick-soled boot in the mess. 

The fight was up to Worth; nothing else for it. Capehart came rollingfrom the hedge where I had seen the pistols flash; Eddie Hughes, inconceivable in pink puffings, bounded after; Jim Edwards chased upfrom his car; but all any of us could do was to run up and down as thestruggle whirled about, and grunt when the blows landed. These soundedlike a pile-driver hitting a redwood butt. Out of the mêlée an arm wouldjerk, the fist at the end of it come back to land with a thud--onsomebody's meat. 

"Who the devil is it?" I bellowed at Capehart, as the two grappled, afoot, then down, no knowing who was on top, spinning around in astruggle where neither boots nor knees were barred. 

"He sneaked out of the bungalow just now, " Capehart snorted. "We'dsearched the place. Didn't think there was room for a louse to be hid init. Got by the boys. I stopped him at the hedge and drove him into theopen. Now Worth's got him. That is Worth, ain't it? Fights like him. "

"Yes, " I said, "It's Worth. " But in my own mind I wasn't sure whetherWorth had the fugitive, or the fugitive had Worth. And Jim Edwardsmuttered anxiously, as we skipped and side-stepped along with the fight, "That fellow may have a knife or a gun. "

"Not where he can draw, " I said, "or he'd have used it before now. " AndCapehart sung out, "Sure. Leave 'em go. Worth'll fix him. "

Edging in too close, I got a kick on the shin from a flying heel, andwas dancing around on one foot nursing the other when I heard sounds ofdistress issue from the tangle in the road; somebody was getting breathin long, gaspy sighs that broke off in grunts when the thud of blowsfell, and merged in the harsh nasal of blood violently dislodged fromnose and throat. For a while they had been up, and swapping punchesface to face, lightning swift. Sounds like boxing, perhaps, but therewasn't any science about it. Feint? Parry? Footwork? Not on your life!Each of these two was trying to slug the other into insensibility, working for any old kind of a knock-out. 

I began to be a little nervous for fear the boy I was bringing home fromjail as a peace offering to Barbara might arrive so defaced that shewouldn't recognize him, when I saw one dark form pull away, leap back, an arm shoot out like a piston-rod, and with a jar that set my own teethon edge, connect with the other man's chin. He went down clawing theair, crumpled into a bunch of clothes at the side of the road. 

"You wanted the Chink, didn't you, Bill?" This was Worth, facing JimEdwards's torch, fumbling for his handkerchief. "I heard you, and Ithought you wanted him. "

"It's Fong Ling!" bawled Capehart. "Sure we wanted him--and whateverthat was he was carrying. Where is it? Did he drop it?"

"Sort of think he did, " Worth was dabbing off his own face with agingerly, respectful touch. "I know he dropped some teeth back there inthe road. Saw him spit 'em out. Maybe he left it with them. You might goand look. "

The four of us drifted along the field of battle, Capehart's assistanthaving taken charge of the unconscious Chinaman, whom he was friskingfor weapons. Halfway back to the hedge Bill stumbled on something, picked it up, and dropped it again with a disgusted grunt. 

"Nothing but a Chinaboy's keister, " he said contemptuously. "Not muchto that. Why in blazes did he run so?"

"Because you were shooting him up, I'd say, " Jim Edwards suggested. 

"Naw. Commenced to run before we turned loose on him, " Bill protested. 

"Hello!" I had pounced on the unbelievable thing, and called to Edwardsfor his light. "Worth, here's your eight-hundred-thousand-dollarsuitcase!"

"That!" he followed along, dusting himself off, trying out his joints. "Oh, yes. I left it in my closet, and it disappeared. Told you of it atthe time, didn't I, Jerry?"

"You did not, " I sputtered, down on my knees, working away at thecatches. "You never told me anything that would be of any use to us. Ifthis thing disappeared, I suppose Vandeman stole it to get a piece ofevidence in the Clayte case out of the way. "

"Likely. " Worth turned, with no further interest, and started toward hisown gate. 

"Hi! Come back here, " I yelled after him. For the lock gave at thatmoment; there, under the pale circle of the electric torch, layClayte-Vandeman's loot!

"My gosh!" mumbled Capehart. "I didn't suppose there was so much moneyin the known world. "

Eddie Hughes, breathing hard; Jim Edwards, bending to hold the torch;Capehart, stooping, blunt hands spread on knees, goggle-eyed; my ownfingers shaking as I dragged out my list and attempted to sort throughthe stuff--not one of us but felt the thrill of that great fortunetumbled down there in the open road in the empty night. 

But Worth delayed reluctantly at the edge of the shadows, looking withimpatience across his shoulder, eager to be on--to get to Barbara. Yet Iwanted that suitcase to go into the house in his hand; wanted him to beable to tell his girl that she'd made him a winner in the gamble and thelong chase. Roughly assured that only a few thousands had been used byVandeman, I stuck the handles into his fist and trailed along after hisquick strides. Edwards followed me. Laura Bowman opened the door to us;she stopped Edwards on the porch. 

And then I saw my children meet. I hadn't meant to; but after all, whatmatter? They didn't know I was on earth. Creation had resolved itself, for them, into the one man, the one woman. 

The suitcase thumped unregarded on the floor. She came to him with herhands out. He took them slowly, raised them to his shoulders, and herarms went round his neck. 

 THE END

 * * * * *

 +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | Transcriber's notes | | | | Page 26, word "sowly" changed to "slowly" (Slowly he brought that) | | | | Page 26, duplicate "the" deleted (followed it with the other) | | | | Page 134, word "inconspicious" changed to "inconspicuous" | |(inconspicuous eye on Edwards) | | | | Page 156, word "expaining" changed to "explaining" (explaining | | how I'd have run) | | | | Page 172, word "Warf" changed to "Wharf" (land me at Fisherman's | | Wharf) | | | | Page 315, word "Los Angles" changed to "Los Angeles" (I bought | | in Los Angeles) | | | | Page 315, word "nonenity" changed to "nonentity" (to deduce that a | | nonentity) | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+