[Frontispiece: The gem lay between them, a splash of crimson flame]

The Paternoster Ruby

_By_ CHARLES EDMONDS WALK

Author of "The Silver Blade, " "The Yellow Circle, " etc. 

WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR

BY J. V. McFALL

A. L. BURT COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK

COPYRIGHT

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

1910

Published, October 22, 1910

Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England

TO

M. H. W. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I THE SHERIDAN PARK MYSTERY II THE PRIVATE SECRETARY III SOME DISCOVERIES IV THE RUBY V THE HIDDEN SAFE VI AN EXTRAORDINARY ERRAND VII HOW THE ERRAND ENDED VIII MAILLOT'S EXPERIENCE IX TRACKS IN THE SNOW X THE SECOND STORY XI A PACT XII THE CIPHER XIII DISCLOSURES XIV RIDDLES XV A WOMAN'S SCREAM XVI THE FACE IN THE ALCOVE XVII PRISON DOORS XVIII A FIGHT IN THE DARK XIX BELLE XX GENEVIEVE'S MISSION XXI SHADOWS XXII ASHES OF OLD ROMANCE XXIII BURKE UNBOSOMS XXIV CONFESSION XXV "THIMBLE, THIMBLE--" XXVI THE CIPHER SOLVED

ILLUSTRATIONS

The gem lay between them, a splash of crimson flame . . . _Frontispiece_

Diagram of second floor

The door opened a few inches, to reveal the figure of Alexander Burke

Cipher

Cipher (repeated)

"I'll shoot, " she announced in a tense tone, "so help me, I'll shoot"

"Uncle, Uncle, sit up! Don't go to pieces this way"

Cipher (repeated)

THE PATERNOSTER RUBY

CHAPTER I

THE SHERIDAN PARK MYSTERY

With a screaming of brakes, the elevated train on which I happened to bejerked to a stop, and passengers intending to disembark were catapultedtoward the doorways--a convenience supplied gratis by all elevated roads, which, I have observed, is generally overlooked by their patrons. Icrammed the morning paper into my overcoat pocket, fell in with theoutrushing current of humanity, and was straightway swept upon theplatform, pinched through the revolving gates, and hustled down thecovered iron stairway to the street. Here the current broke up anddiffused, like the current of a river where it empties into the sea. 

This was the first wave of the daily townward tide--clerks, shop-girls, and stenographers, for the most part intent upon bread and butter _infuturo_. The jostling and crowding was like an old story to me; I wentthrough the ordeal each morning with an indifference and abstraction bornof long custom. 

The time of the year was January, the year itself 1892. A clear, coldair with just enough frost in it to stir sluggish blood, induced one towalk briskly. It was still too early in the day for the usual down-towncrowd, and I proceeded as fast as I wanted to, allowing my thoughts todwell undisturbed on the big news topic of the day, which I had just beenreading. And so I did, as I strode along, with the concern of one whoseinterest is remote, yet in a way affected. 

So the great wheat corner was broken at last! The coterie of operatorsheaded by Alfred Fluette had discovered to their dismay that the shortswere anything but "short, " for all day yesterday the precious grain hadbeen pouring into the market in a golden flood. Grain-laden vessels werespeeding from Argentine, where no wheat was supposed to be; trains werehurrying in from the far Northwest; and even the millers of the land hadawakened to the fact that there was more profit in emptying their binsand selling for a dollar and sixty cents a bushel the wheat that had costthem seventy-six cents, than there was in grinding it into flour. 

It was another pirate of the pit who had brought disaster to thebulls--no other than that old fox, Felix Page, himself a manipulator ofsuccessful big deals, and feared perhaps more than any other figure onthe Board of Trade. 

But his spectacular smashing of the memorable corner has passed intohistory. While Fluette's brokers were buying and sending the pricesoaring--skyrocketing is more descriptive, though--Felix Page was sellingin quantities that bewildered and, since it was Page, alarmed the bulls. Insurance on the lakes had ceased with the advent of winter; thegranaries of the world were supposed to be scraped clean; so it seemedthat he must be rushing headlong to certain destruction. Still, seeingthat it was Felix Page who was doing most of the selling, Fluette's crowdwas nervous. 

And the sequel, in all conscience, warranted their anxiety. For morethan a week Felix Page's iron-prowed ships had been crushing and smashingtheir way through the ice, opening a way for other ships; yesterday theyhad steamed into port with their precious cargoes, demoralizing the bullclique with a deluge of golden grain. 

Page settled; he had sold five million bushels, and he delivered thegoods. This was the opening fissure. Fluette was soon overwhelmed, andtoday he and his crowd would be holding a melancholy wake over the corpse. 

This, however, is not a story of stupendous battles in the arena ofCommerce. I have merely gone behind my proper starting-point by a matterof ten minutes or so--no more--to lay before you one of thoseinexplicable coincidences which, when they are flung at us, shake us fromour self-possession. The stage was already set for me; serenelyunsuspecting, I was headed straight toward it. 

Police headquarters was my destination, and I had no sooner steppedacross the threshold than I was told that the Captain was wanting to seeme at once. So I went direct to his private office, where he was deep inconference with a party of four men, who, in spite of a general air ofgloom which seemed to envelop them, looked like a quartet of prosperousbrokers. It occurred to me that they might have been struck by the stickof the spent rocket. 

As the Captain abruptly broke off an earnest speech to wheel his chairround and address me, the four men stared at me with a curious, unwavering interest. 

Fancy how I was staggered by the first words. My chief thrust a card inmy direction, on which was pencilled a street number. 

"Go to this address at once, Swift, " said he. "It looks like murder--oldPage. "

"Page!" I almost shouted. "You can't mean Felix Page!"

"What's the matter with you? Know anything about it?"

My stupefaction was pronounced enough to excite his wonder. I assureyou, we are not often astonished at the Central Office. 

I caught my breath and shook my head. Of course, I knew nothing aboutit. But it was something besides the amazing, unexpected intelligence ofFelix Page's death that struck me right between the eyes. With themention of his name, my mind cut one of those unaccountable capers whicheverybody has at some time in his life experienced. 

The names of Felix Page and Alfred Fluette had been before me in one wayor another for days; I had followed the remarkable wheat deal with aboutthe same degree of interest that animated everybody else who was notimmediately concerned; but not until this moment had it impressed me thatI knew something respecting Page which had not appeared in the papers inconnection with the corner. What was it?

But I could not remember. This was the scurvy trick my mind was playing. I stood there staring at the others, and they sat staring at me. Aquestion was halted provokingly upon the very tip of my tongue, which, despite a most earnest whipping of memory, remained obstinately elusive. 

Felix Page! What particular, unusual circumstance was associated in mymind with that name? Why should it come to flout me at this juncturewithout revealing itself?

My ineffectual effort to remember was cut short by my chief. He scowled, manifestly in perplexity at the way the news had affected me. 

"These gentlemen, " he said, with a gesture indicating the funerealquartet, "were more or less associated with Mr. Page; he don't seem tohave had any close friends; but they can tell me nothing. Whatever lineyou pick up, you must find the end of it at the scene of the crime--thehouse. The address is on that card. 

"Here 's all I know about it: It must have happened sometime during thenight; the report came in from Sheridan Park station about daylight. Three men from there, Patrolmen Callahan and O'Brien and a plain-clothesman named Stodger, are at the house holding two suspects until somebodyshows up from the Central Office. Stodger 's in a stew; can't seem tomake head nor tail of what's happened. 

"You hurry, Swift, " he curtly concluded; "this is too important a matterto waste time over. "

So it was. I saluted and hastily left him. 

My brain was still in a whirl; my musings and the blunt, surprisingannouncement had come too close together for me to regard the supposedcrime with unshaken equanimity. Then, too, I was still vainly strivingto drag from memory's hiding-place the tantalizing circumstance which Isomehow felt was pregnant with possibilities in the light of thefinancier's death. What on earth was it? I thought of everything else Ihad ever heard or read about the man. 

But I was young--not only in the service, but in years as well--and thiswas one of my first hard rubs with that heartless old pedagogue, Experience. 

Felix Page had enjoyed--I use the word advisedly--a widespread reputationfor eccentricity. The word, I held a secret conviction, was merely apolite euphemism to cover his unscrupulous nature. Many acts of his werecondoned, or even laughed at, which would have been nothing short ofoutrageous if performed by another. He had been widely exploited as a"character"; in reality he had been a merciless old skinflint, with asupreme disregard for the rights or pleasures of others. 

Still, it is not to be denied that his eccentricity did reveal itself incertain ways. After business hours he retired to a forlorn old mansion, where he lived alone, without kindred (if he had any) or servants, savefor an ancient dame who came of mornings to prepare his breakfasts, andto discharge, under his nagging supervision, the few domestic dutiesnecessary to meet his requirements. 

Something like a half-hour after leaving the Central Office, I arrived atthe Page place. Stodger, a short, fat, good-natured chap, was awaitingmy arrival--evidently with some impatience, for he was stamping to andfro before the gate for warmth. As soon as he learned my business heconducted me up to the house. 

On the way he gave me a hasty account of the crime, concerning which hefrankly and whimsically confessed to be very much at sea. 

A description of the house and grounds is in order. The location was allthat could be desired, and would have been an ideal place of residence ifrehabilitated from its sorry condition of neglect. The house faced thenorth end of Sheridan Park, a glimpse of whose lagoons could be caughthere and there among the leafless trees. It sat well back from the wideboulevard, and, surrounded as it was by fine old elms and beeches andmaples, it reminded me of some antiquated English country home, such as Ihave seen in pictures. 

There were any number of chimney clusters; but the general air of theplace was extremely cold and forbidding. Notwithstanding it wasmid-winter and that an inch or more of snow lay on the ground, there wasnot a wisp of smoke above any of the chimneys to indicate the welcomepresence of a fire below. 

A high iron fence extending along the front of the property was dividedby a carriage entrance and a smaller gate for pedestrians. The former, barring the way to a weed- and grass-grown drive, was hermetically sealedby rust; while the other was just as permanently fixed open by theaccumulation of earth and gravel about its lower part. Two parallel rowsof ragged, untrimmed privet designated the tortuous way of the drive tothe unused _porte-cochère_. 

"Nasty case, " Stodger was imparting, in queer staccato sentences. "Shouldn't have much difficulty, though; responsibility lies between twomen. Here all last night. Nobody else. Callahan and O'Brien holdin''em. One 's Page's private secretary; fellow named Burke--AlexanderStilwell Burke. Peach of a monicker, ain't it? Has all three sectionson his cards. 

"The other 's a young lawyer chap; calls himself Royal Maillot. I can'tpry out of either of 'em what _he_ was doing here. "

"And nobody else, you say?" I asked when he paused. 

"Nope--so _they_ say. Either one of 'em might have done it. They 'redown on each other for something; glare at each other like--like--youknow--cat and dog. "

"Go on. "

"Well, this fellow Burke--Alexander Stilwell--he comes to our shack sometime after two this A. M. Told the desk-sergeant old Page 'd beencroaked; wouldn't say anything more. Dippy? Say! Acted like somebody'd slipped him a round o' knockout-drops. Sure thing, he did. Would n'tbudge till old Grimes sent me back with him. I 'm only a licenseinspector, too. This is what I--h'm-m--I butted into. Dev'lish cold, ain't it?"

He had opened the front door and ushered me into a deep, wide hall. Abroad stairway, with carved oak balusters, rose on one side to a landingwhich formed a sort of balcony over the rear end of the hall, and thencecontinued up to the second story. 

With his concluding words, Stodger pointed up to the landing, throughwhose balusters I could see a hand and a part of a motionless human formstretched out at full length upon the floor. 

"Felix Page--b'r-r--dead as a door-nail, " Stodger now added. "Sluggedover the head with a heavy iron candlestick; find it lying there by him. Think of all that wheat--and them ships crunching through the ice. Say, it's pretty tough, ain't it? He was--but would you rather make anexamination first? Or shall I go on?"

I smiled at the man's air of vast importance, which discriminated not atall between grave matters and light. With his queer "hum's" and "haw's, "his funny little exclamatory noises and quick, jerky manner of speech, hereminded me of a jolly diminutive priest who had just dined well. Neverwas mortal freer of affectation. And his cheerfulness? It was asexpansive and as volatile as ether. His buoyancy was a perpetual, never-failing tonic for doubt and discouragement, and I have yet towitness him confronted with a situation that could in the least dash hisspirits. 

He awaited my reply to his question with an air which suggested thatnothing less important than the well-being of his very existence was atstake. 

"Tell me what you have learned, " returned I. Things usually acquire amore comprehensible aspect when you have a few facts by which to measureand weigh them, and I wanted to hear Stodger's story. 

"Yip!" he cried cheerily. "Might as well sit here as anywhere else;nobody to disturb us. "

Weighted as he was with surplus flesh, his agility was amazing. Hewheeled round and plumped down on an oak bench, not unlike a church pew, which stood against the panelled stairway beyond the newel. As Ifollowed I drew my overcoat closer about me, for the hall was cold anddismal. 

"This fellow Burke--Alexander Stilwell; queer chap. Close-mouthed?Say!"--he squared around and tapped my chest with an impressiveforefinger--"a clam 's real noisy compared with him. Fact. Watched mesteady all the time I--you know--looked at the body. "

Stodger stopped abruptly, with the manner of one to whom has occurred asudden brilliant idea. He thumped one fat knee with a pudgy hand, andwhispered with suppressed eagerness:

"By jinks, Swift! I have it! I 'll get Burke--Alexander Stilwell. Lethim talk--in there"--with a violent gesture toward the opposite side ofthe hall--"library. What say? There's a--you know--alcove--curtains. I'll hide behind 'em and listen; if he don't tell the story just like hedid to me, why, we 'll call the turn on him. See?"

For various reasons I thought the idea not a bad one, and said so. Stodger was off up the stairs like a shot. He went nimbly round theprostrate figure on the landing without so much as a look toward it, anddisappeared. 

He and another man appeared, after a while, at the back of the hall, having evidently availed themselves of a rear stairway. 

I surveyed the private secretary with much interest, and must even nowconfess, after no inconsiderable study of the human face, that I havenever since beheld one that was so utterly baffling. 

He was a slender man of medium height, and of an age that might have beenanything between twenty and fifty; his eyes, hair, brows, and lashes wereall of a uniform shade of pale yellow--excepting that the eyes had agreenish tint--while his face and thin, nervous hands wore a dead, unwholesome pallor. 

The effect was extraordinary. The ageless face looked as if it did notknow how to conform to or mirror any inward emotion; and furthermore, onewas never precisely positive whether or not the pale eyes were followingone, for they somehow, in their uncertain fixedness, suggested the ideathat they were windows behind which the real eyes were incessantlyvigilant. So it was when Stodger introduced him; I could not tellwhether he was watching me or my colleague--or, in truth, whether he waswatching either of us. 

"Mr. Burke, Mr. Swift, " said Stodger, with a grand air--"Mr. AlexanderStilwell Burke. " Then, in a hoarse aside to me:

"Little matter I want to look after; just 'tend to it while you two aretalking. "

CHAPTER II

THE PRIVATE SECRETARY

Stodger at once left us together, having, I surmised, his own method ofgetting into the curtained alcove of which he had spoken. In orderthat he should have ample time to reach it, I held Burke with aquestion or two in the hall. 

"Mr. Burke, " said I, "who besides yourself and Mr. Page was in thehouse last night?"

He replied promptly, but with a deliberate precision, as if he weremaking a weighty confidential communication, and wanted to beexceedingly careful to convey an exact interpretation of his thoughts. 

I might now add that this cautious, reflective manner characterized allhis speech, and in time it grew extremely aggravating. 

"A young man named Maillot, " he said; "Royal Maillot. "

"And who is this Royal Maillot?" I next asked. 

Was Burke returning my intent look? Or did he have an eye for somefancied movement behind him, or off there toward the closed librarydoor? For the life of me, I could not have told with assurance. 

"I can't tell you much from my own knowledge, " he presently returned;and now I was pretty positive that he was meeting my regard. "Mr. Maillot is still here, however; he can speak for himself. "

"I know that"--curtly; "but I prefer to be informed beforehand--even ifit's only by hearsay. Who is Mr. Maillot?"

Again the furtive, wandering look behind the blank of the clean-shaven, ageless features. 

"I 've gathered the idea that he 's a young lawyer, and that somebusiness affair brought him here to confer with Mr. Page. He arrivedonly last night. The whole circumstance was very unusual. "

"What do you mean by that?"

Some moments elapsed before he replied. 

"Why, " presently, "Mr. Page was not in the habit of seeing people here, or--as far as that's concerned--of considering any business matterswhatever after he returned home in the evening; this was his invariablerule, excepting--" He paused. 

"Excepting what?" I urged. 

"Well, occasionally--very rarely--he would have me here. Last nightwas one of those occasions; he expected to be absent from the city, andthere were special instructions that he wanted to give me, concerningcertain matters that had to be looked after to-day. 

"But, without an exception that I can recall, everybody else who hadany business with him was required to go to the Drovers' National, orto his office in the same building. 

"Even _our_ relations--our acquaintance--practically ended with eachday's business, not to be renewed until the next day; and I suppose Iapproach nearer than any of his other employees to being what you mightcall a confidential clerk, or secretary. "

I rose briskly to my feet. 

"Let's go some place where it's more comfortable, " suggested I, throwing open the library door; "in here will do. "

He entered unhesitatingly, for it is an easy matter to influence peopleto your will in such trifling manoeuvres; and as I followed, I glancedabout the spacious apartment. 

Its walls were wainscoted with oak, save for a narrow painted frieze, and while very few books were in evidence, the place would have beencheerful enough had there been a fire in the wide, handsome brickfireplace, or had there existed any indication at all that the room wasever used by human beings. Before the cold and empty hearth stood atable, where, very likely, Mr. Page had been in the habit of working onthose rare occasions of which his secretary had spoken. On the rightof this table was the curtained alcove. 

Now Burke's conduct during the next second or so was destined, lateron, to give me an idea concerning that gentleman, which indirectlyaided me in clearing up a puzzling feature of the case. It was this. 

As I indicated the chair where I wanted him to sit--one near enough tothe alcove for Stodger not only to hear what Burke might say, but alsoto have the additional advantage of watching him without muchlikelihood of being observed in turn--I could have sworn that Burkehesitated and bent a doubtful, inquiring look toward the alcove; yet Iam not positive that he ceased for a moment his blank, unblinkingscrutiny of me. At any rate, he was no sooner seated than he boundedup again. 

"We can have a little more light here, " said he, starting toward thealcove, behind whose curtains Stodger was at that moment, I daresay, hastily planning a means of precipitate retreat. I was already seatedmyself, and I stayed his progress only in the nick of time. 

"Burke!" I called sharply. 

He wheeled about, a trifle disconcerted, I imagined. 

"Please sit down, " I went on authoritatively. "You are not preciselyat liberty to go just where you please; for the present I 'mresponsible for your movements. "

He shrugged his shoulders and returned to his chair, remarking in anunemotional way:

"I forgot that I was under arrest. "

I did n't trouble to define his position. At best it was at thatinstant an anomalous one; so far as I knew there were no grounds uponwhich to hold him at all; and while I would have hesitated to say thathe was actually in custody, at the same time it is also true that Iwould not have permitted him to walk out of the house and away, had hedesired to do so. 

"Now, Mr. Burke, " I went on, "tell me just what you know about thismatter. Don't slur details; take your time. "

"I know very little, Mr. Swift. "

"Let's have it, nevertheless. "

"About one o'clock last night I had just completed sorting some papersin my room. They had been in a file-case so long that they were verydusty; so when I was through I went to the bath-room--one door frommine--to wash my hands, and while I was so engaged I was startled by acrash, as of some one falling heavily outside. 

"I picked up my candle, and looked into the hall. At first I sawnothing, and everything was perfectly quiet; but in a moment I noticedthat an _étagère_, which had always stood at the head of the stairs, was tipped forward against the banisters, and at the same time I heardMr. Maillot moving about in his room. I was much perplexed to accountfor such a disturbance at that hour of the night, and for a time Istood motionless, waiting to see what would occur next. I admit that Iwas even somewhat frightened; but as nothing else happened, I crossedover to Mr. Maillot's door--directly opposite my own--and rapped. 

"He threw it open at once. He was holding a hand to his right eye, andglared at me with the uncovered eye. He evidently had slipped hastilyinto his clothes; his candle was lighted, and I noticed that his handsand face were wet, as if he too had been washing. "

"It strikes me that there was an unusual amount of hand-washing, " Ihere observed, "considering the hour of night. Had the householdretired?"

"Why--yes, sir--we were supposed to have done so. But Mr. Maillot atonce explained why his hands were wet. As he threw open the door, which he did in an angry manner, he asked me what the devil was thematter. I replied that I did n't know. He then stated that he thoughtthe roof had caved in; that the tumult had awakened him, and that inspringing out of bed he had nearly knocked an eye out by colliding withsome piece of furniture. The pain was for a moment so intense, hesaid, that he had forgotten all about the noise; so he had lighted acandle and bathed the injured eye. It was already beginning to swelland show signs of discoloration. On my remarking that it was strangethe noise hadn't roused Mr. Page, Mr. Maillot at once seized his candleand preceded me into the hall. He was the first to find Mr. Page'sbody. 

"So far as we could determine, he was quite dead. Mr. Maillot at oncewarned me not to molest anything--he 's a lawyer, I believe--and weagreed that I should notify the police while he remained to guard thehouse. "

Such was Burke's story of the midnight tragedy. Further questioningelicited the assertion that he was utterly unable to account forMaillot's presence in the house; that he had never seen him before, andthat he was sure the young man's call had been unexpected by Mr. Page, as the latter had, the last thing the previous evening at his office, instructed Burke to procure a number of specified papers from thefile-case, and bring them to the house after supper. 

Burke believed it to have been his employer's intention to go throughthese documents with him, for the purpose of selecting certain oneswhich had to do with a contemplated business trip to Duluth; butMaillot had arrived about seven o'clock, and he and Mr. Page had atonce repaired to the library, where they remained until after eleveno'clock. 

Burke had busied himself with other matters until convinced that, ashis employer had doubtless given over the Duluth journey, his serviceswould not be required; whereupon he had retired to his own room. 

Such minor details were added: the only servant was a woman who came tothe house of mornings, and departed before the master went down-town;there was no telephone in the house; and the millionaire's"eccentricities" included, among other things, a preference for candlesover any other means of artificial illumination, and a strongdisinclination to consume any more fuel than was absolutely necessary. 

Learning that the woman servant was at that very moment in the house, Ispeedily saw to it that a rousing fire was kindled upon every hearthand in every stove; nor were they allowed to die out, as long as Iremained beneath the roof. Felix Page would have no further use forhis coal and kindling. 

When Burke returned from discharging this errand, I continued myquestioning. 

"So it had been Mr. Page's intention to go to Duluth last night, eh?What for?"

"I don't know. About vessels or his wheat shipments, I suppose;something too important to entrust to the mail or telegraph. "

"Did the coming of Mr. Maillot upset his plans?"

"I can't imagine what else caused him to change his mind at the lastminute; the journey must have been unusually important to take him awayfrom the city at this time. "

Then Maillot's mission could not have been without exceptional weight, I reflected. And unless I was much mistaken, the deferred journey hadseriously disarranged some material plan for Mr. Burke. I had nothingmore to say, however, for the present. 

I sent Burke back to the custody of Callahan and O'Brien, to await thecompletion of my investigation; for, until I became reasonably surethat I held in my hand all the available facts, it would be rankcarelessness on my part to send the whilom secretary about his business. 

I would have been hard put to it to interpret the impression whichAlexander Burke had made upon my mind, if Stodger had demanded myopinion at that moment. As his round, cherubic face emerged betweenthe curtains, I turned to him with considerable curiosity. 

"Told it word for word as he did to me, " was my companion's comment. "Could n't have told it better if it had been a piece learnt by heart. "

"Oh, he could n't, eh?" observed I, thoughtfully, leading the way tothe landing. 

But I could not permit myself to theorize at this stage--an indulgencewhich, when premature, inevitably colors one's opinions, and prejudicesall attempts at clear, logical reasoning. 

CHAPTER III

SOME DISCOVERIES

But I was not yet permitted to begin my examination of the body and itsimmediate surroundings. I had no sooner arrived at the landing than Iheard a man's voice, somewhere above in the second story, speaking witha note of determination that demanded some sort of recognition from theperson addressed. The clear, ringing, resolute tone made meinvoluntarily pause and listen. 

"Where 's your headquarters man?" the voice was irately demanding. "Iwant to see him, d' ye hear? You blithering idiot, I 'm going downthose stairs; if you want to rough it, just try to stop me. "

Another voice was raised in expostulation. Stodger, at my elbow, suddenly chuckled. 

"That's him!" he whispered, with an unaccountable excitement. "That'sMaillot!"

"He must be a tartar, " I observed. 

At that instant a stalwart young man, very angry and with onediscolored eye that lent him an uncommonly truculent appearance, lookeddown on us from the upper hall; then he deliberately ignored thearguing policeman, strode to the head of the stairs and descended tothe landing. 

"It's all right, Callahan, " said Stodger to the discomfited blue-coat. 

The young man halted before us. 

"Ass!" he growled, staring hard at me. 

Stodger made the epithet exclusively mine with a bow and a broad grin. Instantly the young fellow flushed and stammered an apology. 

"I didn't mean either of you chaps, " he explained, in embarrassment. "It's that chuckle-headed hod-carrier in a blue uniform. If he givesme any more of his cheek, I 'll take his club from him and hand him awallop over the head with it--dashed if I don't. "

He looked eminently capable of doing it, too. He paused, his lookresting upon me with an interrogation. 

"Are you in authority here?" he bluntly demanded. 

"I suppose so. Are you Mr. Maillot?"

"I am. And I 'd like to know how much longer I 'll have to stay inthis beastly cold-storage warehouse. I 'm plenty tired of it rightnow, if you want to know. "

I smiled at the resolute young fellow; there was something decidedlylikable in his frank and handsome countenance, and his blunt, intensemanner. 

"It all depends, Mr. Maillot. You and Mr. Burke are the only ones whocan help me to some sort of solution of this crime--if crime it is; Itake it for granted that you are willing to do what you can. "

He favored me with another stare, then stood thoughtfully pulling athis lips and gazing at the body. 

"Poor chap!" he muttered at length, in a hushed voice. "A ghastly wayto die; I 'd give a lot to know how it happened. " Then he lookedbrightly at me, and asked with an almost boyish impulsiveness:

"Are you a detective--like Stodger here?"

"I 'm a detective, " I told him; "though I don't know how closely Iresemble Stodger. " A sound came from that worthy that made me think hewas strangling. "Swift is my name. "

Maillot suddenly thrust out his right hand. 

"Glad to know you, Swift, " he said heartily. "You look like a sensiblechap. I 'm willing to do all I can to help you--of course I am. Itwon't be much, I 'm afraid. But if any thick-headed cop says I can'tdo this or can't do that, there 's going to be trouble. They can'tbluff me, and I know they have n't any right to dictate what I shalldo. "

All of which was quite true. Maillot glanced at the body again, andlowered his voice. 

"Say, " he said, "can't we go to a more appropriate place to talkmatters over?"

"Yes--the library, " suggested I. 

He drew back, and his face darkened. 

"Library!" he echoed. 

"There 's a fire there now, " I informed him, wondering at hisquick-changing moods. Next instant he was talking again, eagerly. 

"But--look here, Swift--you have n't examined the body yet, have you?I 'm curious to see whether you discover anything. Queer old chap hewas; I don't think anybody ever understood him. "

He broke off and eyed Stodger severely. 

"What the deuce are you laughing at, Stodger?" he demanded. 

Stodger laid a hand upon his arm, and asked with husky eagerness:

"On the level, Maillot--between us, you know--just what did you saylast night when somebody pulled the shade down over that lamp of yours?"

"You go to thunder, " Maillot retorted, turning his back upon him. 

"Pshaw! I 'll bet it was hotter than that, " said Stodger, in adisappointed tone. 

Now, then, here were the parts of the puzzle I had to piece together inorder to gain some conception of the manner in which Felix Page met hisdeath. 

The still form lay, as I have already stated, on the landing whichextended across the rear of the hall like a balcony. The stairscontinued thence up to the second story, but in a direction exactly thereverse of the first flight and on the opposite side of the halltherefrom. 

Standing midway upon this landing, I had a view not only of the entirespacious hall, but could also see the top of the _étagère_ tippedforward at the head of the stairs. It had evidently been a receptaclefor old magazines and newspapers, all of which, that had not beenchecked by the balusters, now lay in a confused heap upon the floorjust as they slid from the shelves. 

Even across the distance which then separated me from this article offurniture--twelve feet, I should say--I could see that the top wascoated with dust, save for two spots where the rich red lustre of thepolished mahogany shone conspicuously: one about five inches indiameter and forming a perfect octagon, the other much smaller, andragged in outline. 

Here at my feet was the explanation. The base of the iron candlestickaccounted for the octagonal design; while the fragments of a shallow, saucer-like sea-shell, which had been utilized as a match holder, accounted for the smaller spot. These two articles manifestly hadreposed upon top of the _étagère_. The matches, to the number of halfa dozen or so, were strewn upon the stairs and landing. 

I picked up the candlestick from where it lay upon the landing, andexamined it with much interest. It was a solid affair of ornamentaliron, about fifteen inches high, and weighed some six or eightpounds--clearly a nasty weapon if wielded by a strong arm. 

The bit of candle which it had contained lay nearby, one end flattenedout from having been crushed under somebody's foot. 

At the time of his tragic death Mr. Page was in his sixty-first year, but a large and very vigorous man. He had been garbed in his streetclothes (save for a frayed and faded purple smoking-jacket), thuscontradicting Burke's belief that the household had retired. On theright temple the mark clearly showed where the candlestick's base hadcrushed the skull beneath. Death certainly had been instantaneous. 

While I held the candlestick in my band, Maillot suddenly exclaimed:

"By George, Swift! the old gentleman's death may have been owing toaccident, after all!"

I looked keenly at him. 

"Suppose he was here on the landing, " the young fellow went onenthusiastically; "suppose somebody knocked that book-case affairsuddenly forward--might 've stumbled against it in the dark, youknow--why, that heavy candlestick would have put a quietus on any man, falling on his head that way. "

But I could not encourage this idea. 

"I thought of that as soon as I saw the overturned whatnot, " said I;"but several circumstances disprove it. 

"In the first place, if the candlestick slid off the top, the dustwould show it. Now the shell did slide, for you can plainly see whereit scraped the dust in doing so. 

"Again, considering your supposition, the candle-stick would havestruck about half-way up the flight; if Mr. Page had been at that pointon the stairs--in the line of its fall--his head would have been toohigh to have encountered it. And then, Maillot, look here. " I pointedto the object of interest itself. 

"If you were carrying it while the candle was lighted, " I said, "yourthumb would be uppermost, and your little finger nearest thebase--would n't they?"

"Naturally. "

"Very well. Suppose, now, I reverse my grasp--my thumb toward thebase, the little finger toward the top--I now have it in a prettyeffective position for use as a bludgeon, eh?"

He was following me intently, and now nodded his head in token ofcomprehension. 

"Look at those drippings, " I went on; "the hand that last grasped thecandlestick did not try to avoid them, although they were yet soft andwarm from the flame. It does n't require a trained eye to determinethat the _thumb_ was nearest the base. "

"I declare!" he wonderingly interrupted. "Blest if you 're not right, Swift. The candle was burning when somebody grabbed it up for use as aclub. Whoever it was he caught hold of it with a pretty firm grip. "

"An additional argument, " I added, "that it was put to some violentuse. It is n't necessary to hold it anything near so tight merely tocarry it. 

"However, " I pursued, "the circumstance is in a way unfortunate. WhileI can gather the idea that the hand was n't inured to hard labor, andthat it was a rather long and slender one, it closed so powerfully uponthe drippings that the pattern of little lines--the vermiculationswhich differentiate one man's hand from everybody else's--is merely ablur. As a wax impression of the murderer's hand it is not a success. "

My audience seemed to be immensely interested. 

But I was not yet through with the wax impression. 

"One peculiarity is suggested, though: this is unmistakably the impressof a right hand, and the owner of the hand wore a broad ring on thesecond finger--an unusual place for a man to sport that sort ofjewelry. "

The third finger of Maillot's _left_ hand was adorned with a modestsignet ring, while the private secretary's abnormally long, bloodlessdigits bore no sign that they had ever been encircled by any ring atall. 

The situation was serious enough, however; the imprint which I assumedto have been made by a ring was so blurred as to leave wide latitudefor error respecting any deduction that I might make from it. 

I gravely regarded young Maillot, and tried to picture him to myself inthe role of a murderer, but was obliged to own that such a thing wasexceedingly difficult to do. Still, all things are possible; and thenext few minutes had to determine whether I should take him or Burkeinto custody--maybe both--or permit them to go about their business. 

"Mr. Maillot, " I said by and by, "I 'll tell you frankly: this businesslooks pretty bad for you and Burke--unless between you you can help meto place it in an entirely different light. "

He paled, but met my level look steadily enough. 

As I have already said, he was a good-looking chap, dark of hair, hiseyes gray, and he possessed an honest, open countenance that stood awhole lot in his favor. He was tall, with a well-knit, athletic figurethat made me fancy he had been an heroic member of his universityfootball team. 

But I have known just such men--steady, upright and governed by highstandards of conduct--to become in the twinkling of an eye red-handedassassins. 

Your man of lofty ideas and honor, in truth, is the more deeplysensible of injury and sometimes the easiest incensed. He is the morekeenly hurt when his most sacred feelings are suddenly outraged. Finish off his equipment with a hot, passionate temper, and hisresentment is likely to strike as blindly and as effectively as a boltfrom a surcharged thunder-cloud. It is the motive that eitherpalliates or makes the crime. A moment's previous reflection oftenstays the hand from a deed which a lifetime of after regret can notrecall. 

I could associate these possibilities with Maillot, and yet extend tohim my sympathy; for controlling impulses are infinitely various andsometimes not to be held to account. 

And so, too, could I have done with Burke, if he had betrayed one traitof a nature to inspire sympathy or engage my goodwill. Still, I meantnot to be in the least influenced by my own feelings in the matter, nordo I now believe that I was; I determined to be as just and impartialas possible. Bear in mind that, as yet, I had been given no hint ofpossible motive. 

After a bit Maillot said very soberly:

"The possibility of such a thing never for instant occurred to me;but--Swift--I suppose must meet it somehow. "

"You 're beginning excellently, " I returned sincerely. "That's the wayto look at a thing of this kind. If you 'll not forget that I 'minclined to be kindly disposed toward you, why, I dare say we can, between us, clear up whatever mystery there is in one-two-three order. 

"For example, why you came here last night--your business with Mr. Page--when you tell me that perhaps--"

I stopped. Maillot's face had suddenly become a mirror ofconsternation. 

"Good God, Swift!" he gasped, recoiling, "I--I can't do that!"

I promptly grew grave. And then, from the head of the stairs, came theslow, colorless voice of Alexander Burke. 

"How about the Paternoster ruby, Mr. Maillot?" inquired he. 

Maillot's hands closed spasmodically; his teeth clicked together; andhe slewed round like a released spring. 

Next instant, had it not been for the intervening stairs and Stodger'sand my quick interposition of our bodies between the two men, matterscertainly would have gone hard with the private secretary. Maillot'stemper was like gunpowder; the quiet question seemed to sting him to anunreasonable fury. 

"You--you spy! You dirty sneak!" he snarled viciously. 

CHAPTER IV

THE RUBY

Unless I wanted affairs to get away from me entirely, it was high timeto assume complete control of them, and immediately to abandon alltemporizing measures. 

I turned Maillot about without ceremony. 

"Go with this man to the library, Stodger, " I peremptorily directed. "Burke, you come with me. "

In the next ten seconds I had the big library table between the two, Burke impassive, while Maillot glared at him savagely. I wanted togive them time to cool--Maillot, at any rate; so I took advantage ofthe opportunity to scribble a note to the Captain, hinting at thecomplications promised by Felix Page's death, and requesting that I bepermitted to retain Stodger as an assistant--for I liked the stout, cheerful man who was willing and quick to act upon no more than a hint, and at the same time not disposed to interfere at all with my own modesof procedure. This message I gave to him, requesting that he entrustit to either Callahan or O'Brien for delivery. "Tell 'em to clearout, " I added; "I have no use for them here. "

Then I thrust my hands into my coat pockets, and fell to pacing thefloor while I reflected. That is to say, I reflected after I hadsecured a good, firm grasp upon the thoughts which skurriedhelter-skelter, like a flushed covey of quail, through my brain. 

_The Paternoster ruby!_

Here was the very thing I had tried so futilely to recall when theCaptain first mentioned Felix Page's death!

Like a flash, the phrase had opened up to me an illimitable vista ofpossibilities. I went over in mind all that I had ever heard of thisfamous gem, and wondered--indeed, to tell only the bare truth--Ithrilled with the very idea: could it have had any part or place in thefinancier's death?

_The Paternoster ruby!_

Those three words were an illumination; memory was flooded; and Iglowed with a satisfaction that, in accordance with my custom in suchmatters, I had collected and preserved every available scrap ofinformation which had in any way to do with this same Paternoster ruby. And right here some of that data must be presented. 

First of all, this magnificent gem's known history hinted at noreligious association whatever, as its name might seem to imply. Inmore than one journal I have seen it seriously affirmed that at onetime it was a property of that celebrated pope, Alexander VI, RodrigoBorgia, father of Caesar and Lucrezia--thus investing it with anantiquity and romance which the facts did not warrant. 

But, after all, am I not premature in making this last assertion?Perhaps it will appear before we are through. 

The gem first became known to the world and acquired its name throughone Luca Paternostro, an Italian dealer in precious stones having hisplace of business in London, who claimed to have purchased it in therough from some adventurer whose name is unknown to history. Thisoccurred in the early '80's. 

Subsequently it was carefully cut in Amsterdam, a paste replica madefor purposes of display in the course of trade, and then added toPaternostro's stock--perhaps not because he expected to dispose of itto the first chance customer, but rather by reason of the prestigewhich the ownership of so superb a jewel would give him; it was anexcellent advertisement. 

On the fourth night after he received the cut ruby from the Dutchlapidaries, Paternostro was murdered and the gem stolen from hisapartments in Hatton Gardens. 

Of course, a stone so celebrated was easy to identify; not alone bymeans of the paste replica and an accurate preserved description, butits extraordinary and distinguishing features--to say nothing of itsvalue--were not likely to be forgotten by experts who had seen andhandled it. 

And so, when it appeared in Paris a few months later, Paternostro'sheirs and successors in the gem-importing business were promptly onhand to claim their property; an enterprise in which they succeededafter the determination of some legal complications; and thePaternostros started with the ruby on the return to London. 

Incidentally, the assassin and thief--an Oriental of undeterminednationality--was also apprehended and, the red-tape of extraditionhaving been gravely untangled, conveyed to England and duly hanged. 

Ill-luck, however, followed the ruby. On the boat over from Calais toDover a confidential employee of the gem merchants, who had accompaniedthem to Paris, was lost overboard while the vessel was entering thehome port. Although this man was known to be an expertswimmer--notwithstanding the attempts at rescue, the proximity of landand the numerous craft of all sorts in the vicinity--a strange fatalityseems to have carried him straight to the bottom. After the manvanished beneath the waves, no sign of him was seen again. 

In the following year no less than four attempts were made to steal thestone from the Paternostros; but as they had learned caution from theirunfortunate predecessor's death--to the extent, at least, of keepingsuch treasure in bank--these attempts were abortive. 

Later several tentative overtures on the part of one of Europe'srichest monarchs toward the purchase of the Paternoster ruby came tonaught; the price set upon it by the Paternostros was prohibitive; andgradually it came to be forgotten by the public, until the year '84, when interest concerning it was again revived, this time to fever heat. 

And now we have Alfred Fluette and Felix Page arrayed against eachother once more. Everybody, of course, still remembers the suddenrivalry between these two American citizens, which sprang up in June ofthat year, for the gem's possession. The complexity of causes whichsimultaneously inspired them with an inordinate desire for thePaternoster ruby--a desire which seemingly could be appeased only bypossession, regardless of cost--was much of a mystery, and afforded theenergetic correspondents a fruitful text for many a day. Both, as iswell known, had unlimited means with which to indulge their suddenwhim; where kings and princes resigned themselves to the melancholyfact that the gem was not for them, these two men battled for it withan unlicensed tendering of fortunes that amazed the world; and one mayeasily imagine the sleepless anxiety of the Paternostros, as first oneand then the other of the millionaires ran up his bid with trueAmerican prodigality. 

Only--and this the mystifying feature of the episode--Felix Page couldnever honestly be accused of prodigality in any circumstances. Hesecured the ruby--at a fabulous price; but in the operation he made atleast one bitter, implacable enemy. Alfred Fluette returned to theUnited States, smarting with the stings of defeat, and pledged to acommercial warfare on the successful millionaire speculator. It wagedmerrily thenceforward. 

Why did Felix Page want the Paternoster ruby? It was impossible evento surmise a tenable theory. His parsimony was notorious; he was abachelor without known kith or kin, and had never before been known toevince the slightest interest in precious stones. 

On the other hand, Mr. Fluette was not only a collector of gems, buthis collection was and still is one of the most famous in the world. Perhaps Page was willing to sacrifice a fortune merely to thwart arival's ambition; perhaps he was only satisfying some old grudge aboutwhich the world knew nothing--it was all speculation, and speculationof a most unsatisfying sort, too. He got the stone, at any rate; andhere we have another instance of the man's peculiar disposition. 

Whatever he did with the ruby nobody knew. There were manyconnoisseurs and jewelers on this side of the water who were naturallycurious to see a gem of such renown; but with characteristicselfishness the new owner refused one and all, not only a glimpse ofhis costly prize, but would not even impart any information about it. His was a dog-in-the-manger attitude; with no appreciation whatever ofhis possession, he refused bluntly to allow anybody else to enjoy it. The ruby was kept hid away. 

Such, briefly, were the data I had neatly pasted in my scrapbook andwhich memory had been all the morning trying to recall. 

I paused in my promenade to survey Burke: what new adjustment must bemade of the bare facts so far gathered; what now, in view of this newelement injected into the case, was the attitude of this strange beingtoward it--my regard shifted to Maillot--and his?

Just at this juncture my cogitations were broken in upon by the doorbeing unceremoniously thrown open. Stodger, much excited, darted in, closing the door after him. He handed me an envelope, accompanying itwith a look of suppressed eagerness which suggested certain detailspertinent to the missive which were being reserved--withdifficulty--for my private hearing. 

"Note for Maillot, " announced he, his eyes fixed curiously upon theyoung man. 

Maillot, apparently dumfounded, rose slowly to his feet. 

"A note--for me!" he faltered. Then, quietly: "Give it to me, Swift. "

Our glances met--and stayed. I had the envelope before me pinned tothe table with the outspread fingers of my right hand. Maillot wasunmistakably in great distress of mind, and his expression was that ofa man desperate but determined. Only for a moment I hesitated; thenwithout raising my hand, I slid the envelope across the table to him. 

"It's a question of confidence, Mr. Maillot, " said I, calmly, endeavoring to convey my earnestness in the look which had not for aninstant swayed from his. "I reserve the right, should the occasionarise, to read it; understand?"

With a curt nod of acquiescence, he snatched it up from the table. Aglimpse of the handwriting brought a flush to his face and a gladsparkle to his eyes; but the missive troubled him. It was short, andas he slowly returned it to its envelope his hand shook and hiscountenance grew more and more harassed and perplexed. 

I glanced at Burke's pallid features and found them as impassive as anyIndian's. It was impossible to determine whether he was watching me orMaillot. 

Evidently assuming the incident to be closed, Stodger saw hisopportunity to speak again. 

"Chap's out here that brought it, " said he; "coachman, he looks like;waiting for an answer. " Then he turned to me, continuing:

"Four reporters out there, too; what shall I do with 'em?"

Maillot suddenly startled us by smiting the table violently with hisfist. He was white, trembling, and apprehensive; but his determinationwas by no means broken. 

"Swift, " said he, in a hushed, strained voice, "step aside with me; letme have a word with you. "

He seized my arm, and fairly dragged me off toward the curtained alcove. 

"Swift, " he whispered, not releasing his grip on my arm, "I 'm in adevil of a position. For God's sake, show some sign of humanity! Thatnote was from a young lady--"

"I surmised as much. "

"Damn it, man! Don't laugh! I'm more dead in earnest than I ever wasbefore in my life. This means more to me--to her--than you can by anypossibility conceive, astute officer of the law though you may be. "

My expression must have contained something of surprise at hisvehemence, for with an effort he abruptly checked himself and at oncewent on more calmly. 

"Swift, it's the young lady I expect some day to marry; she 's heard arumor of the tragedy, and is worried about me. The note was brought byher coachman, and she 's waiting on the corner a block from here for meto come to her. "

I tried hard to consider what was best to do. Enter a woman into acase like this, and assured conduct becomes an impossibility. Maillotwas searching my face eagerly; in a moment he laid more of the matterbefore me. 

"She 's a sensitive, high-strung girl whom the slightest breath ofscandal would fairly kill. I can't let her name be dragged into thismess; I can't answer her note, and send the reply away from under yourvery nose without a word to you. And the reporters! Gracious heavens!Swift, Stodger wanted to know what to do with 'em: for pity's sake, tell him to kill 'em!"

Again I interrupted. I trust that I may in all modesty record that Ihave more than a spark of the feelings to which the young fellow madesuch a passionate appeal. 

"Look here, Maillot, has the young lady a companion?"

"Yes--usually; a young lady cousin who lives with her. "

"Very well. If they happen to be together now, we can settle thematter quite easily. Answer her note; request the two of them to comehere in a half-hour. Within that time we can get rid of the reporters, and you can--well, you can collect yourself. If your presentexpression is an index to what you are likely to say, this will be noplace for a young lady--for the next thirty minutes, anyhow. "

He caught and wrung my hand. 

"Swift, you 're a damn good fellow!" he said impulsively, and hurriedback to his seat. 

However, I did not forget that I had not heard this young man's story;nor did I fail to consider that he was a lawyer, and hence possessed ofadvantages for appreciating and intelligently weighing all the chancesfor and against his sweetheart becoming involved. 

As Maillot dropped into his chair, Stodger could no longer containhimself. Drawing me into the hall, though the door was left wide open, he said, in a whisper that was heavy with importance:

"You 'd never guess whose coachman it was. "

I made no attempt to, and my stout friend impressively announced:

"Fluette's. "

"What!" Surprise jerked the exclamation from me; but I kept my voicesubdued. 

"Fact, "--Stodger nodded his round head impressively, --"Alfred Fluette. "

Here indeed was the promise of a pretty state of affairs!

CHAPTER V

THE HIDDEN SAFE

I left the four reporters to Stodger's tender mercies--his instructionsdid not include any such extreme measures as Maillot hadsuggested--confident that he was the proper person to relieve me ofthis unwelcome intrusion. It has always been hard for me to talk tothese sharp-eyed, alert young chaps of the press, without sayingsomething I had no business to say. Even if I did n't say it, some oneof them would be sure to make a pretty shrewd guess, sometimes causingme no end of trouble. Stodger knew nothing of my intentions; thereforehe could let nothing slip that might in any way affect my futuremovements. 

Maillot's note despatched, I directed my attention to ascertaining justwhat Alexander Burke meant by his reference to the ruby. 

His explanation in itself was simple enough. He had heard of the ruby, of course--who had n't?--and during his wanderings through the housethe previous night, while he waited for Maillot to finish his businesswith Mr. Page, he had paused now and then in the vicinity of thelibrary door. Twice he had heard the gem mentioned by those within. 

Maillot accepted this statement with an offensive incredulity which wasplainly deliberate. 

"The house was very quiet, " Burke made haste to add. 

"Perhaps, " Maillot spoke with sneering emphasis, his look franklyhostile, "perhaps you could have heard us; I 'm ignorant of the degreeof acuteness to which your hearing has been developed; _but_"--turningto me--"I want to say, Swift, that during the whole time Mr. Page and Iwere engaged in this room, our voices were not once raised so that aperson beyond the closed door could have heard us intelligibly. Ithink, Burke, I see the imprint of a keyhole on your ear. "

"Temper your language, Maillot, " said the other, with a touch ofasperity. Instantly Maillot was upon his feet. 

"Shut up!" he thundered. "Don't you talk to me, you scamp!"

"Here, don't quarrel, " I interposed pacifically, pressing the angry, glaring lawyer back into his chair with a persuasive hand upon hisshoulder. I then said to him:

"You might appropriately relate what your business last night with Mr. Page was. "

"I will"--bluntly--"to you. "

The proposal being a reasonable one, I agreed to defer the matter. 

"However, " continued I, "while you two are together there are somepoints upon which I want enlightenment. Reserve your personalities foranother time. Is it positive that there was no one else in the housebesides yourselves and Mr. Page?"

Neither spoke, each waiting, as it seemed, for the other to reply. Myglance travelled between the two, and finally settled upon thesecretary, whose long, nervous fingers were beating a silent tattooupon the table. 

"How about it, Mr. Burke?" I pressed him. "Your familiarity with thehouse entitles you to answer. "

"I can take oath there was not, " he now said. Stodger had alreadyassured me that when he arrived every door and window was fast on theinside. So I next asked:

"When you went to notify the police, did you depart by way of the frontdoor?"

"I did, " he replied in a subdued voice. And Maillot immediately added:

"It was fast, Swift--bolt and spring-latch, both. I remember becausethe fact made me think there might be somebody else in the house. Assoon as Burke left I went over the whole place, methodically andpainstakingly, and I can now swear, if anybody was secreted in hereanywhere, why, he 's here yet. I inspected every door and window, upstairs and down; all were fast. "

The unbroken, spotless mantle of snow outside limited the possibilityof ingress or egress without leaving betraying footprints, to eitherthe front or the rear door, where the paths had been kept clear. 

Dismissing this nonplussing phase, I turned to the subject of the gemonce more. 

"Regarding the ruby, Mr. Burke, " said I, "do you know where Mr. Pagekept it?"

Maillot fixed a scowling look--not at all relieved by his discoloredeye--upon the secretary, while that young man thoughtfully shook hishead. 

"No, " Burke said at length; "not certainly. I never heard Mr. Pagemention it; but I have an idea that it is in a small concealed safe inhis bedroom, because there is where he keeps those things which no eyebut his own ever sees. "

Was it possible that Felix Page had any hidden treasures of sentiment?If so, here, in all truth, was a surprising side-light thrown into anunsuspected recess of his character. I was to have a hint presently ofwhat was tucked away there. 

But Burke had something more to say. "Perhaps, "--slowly--"you wouldlike to see that safe, Mr. Swift. I know where it is located, and cansave you a needless search. It will have to be opened later on, Iimagine. "

"All right, " I said, with much interest. "Lead the way. "

Burke rose, with a queer glance at Maillot, and--turned toward thecurtained alcove. 

If he had any intention of moving in that direction, however, hequickly changed his mind; for Maillot and I followed him through thedoorway, down the length of the roomy panelled hall, to another door onthe same side of the house as the one we had just quitted. I couldhear a murmur of voices across the hall, where Stodger was entertainingthe reporters. 

"The safe, " said Burke, as we entered a large, handsome, but verydisordered sleeping-chamber, "is what decided Mr. Page on selectingthis room in preference to one on the second floor. It was placedhere, I suppose, at the time the house was built; it is very artfullyhidden. "

The bed betrayed the fact that it had not been slept in recently, andthe room that it was unused to a cleansing supervision. Some soiledclothing lay in a heap in one corner; a pair of trousers were collapsedover the back of a chair; the dresser-top held a lot of linen andcravats, both clean and soiled; half-closed drawers overflowed withgarments that had been thrust in any way, and an over-turned ink bottleon a handsome mahogany stand had never been righted. Even a carelesshousewife would have been driven insane by such deliberate untidiness. 

Our guide picked up a half-burned candle, lighted it, and then opened acloset door. Next instant he started back with a queer cry. 

Maillot and I crowded forward and saw--nothing, at first, to explainBurke's conduct. But in a moment I comprehended. 

A section of the closet floor was up, and now stood on edge leaningagainst a wall; beneath it was a shallow, cemented hollow, with fourwooden steps leading down to the bottom, where, obviously, one mightstand to get conveniently at the small safe thus disclosed. 

It was also manifest that somebody had been doing that very thing. Forthe safe door stood open, as well as the inner door; and a flash of thecandle, a single brief glimpse, assured me that--whatever it might haveheld--it was now as empty as on the day it left the maker's hands. 

But, stay--there _was_ something, though not in the safe. I took thecandle from Burke, and went down the steps. On the cement floor, inthe shadow of the open safe door, was a visiting-card, yellowed by age. I thought it blank at first; but on turning it over I saw some writing, faint and faded but legible, which had been penned by a feminine hand:

"I pray that you be showered with all the blessings of the season. With love from

"CLARA. "

And in the lower left-hand corner, a date was written--an old, olddate: "Xmas, 1857. "

Next I satisfied myself that the doors had not been forced, and thatevery compartment was indeed empty. Then I looked back over myshoulder, to be puzzled by the baffling, indecipherable stare ofBurke's tawny eyes. Was he looking at me, at the reaved safe, or atthe pathetic little reminder, which I was holding in my hand, of thatlong-ago Christmas present? Though I could not be certain, I somehowfelt that his interest was, at the moment, intense, and that I had beenmistaken in thinking him a young man. 

As I slipped the time-worn card into a pocket, Maillot's voice broke inharshly upon my meditations. 

"So--we have a thief to deal with, as well as an assassin, " heobserved, his glance roving casually over the secretary. "Burke, howwould you, now, account for the safe being open?"

And for the first time I detected a sign of emotion in the yellow eyes:they darted a look toward Maillot, and away again; but it flickeredwith a spark of malice--gleamed for an instant with a light ofmalevolent contempt--which made me feel that the fellow had all alongbeen keeping something in reserve, something which must inevitably cometo light presently, to Maillot's utter discomfiture and undoing. Itsuggested that Burke was patiently biding his time until some suddenturn of events should permit him to triumph over the other. Clearly, there was no goodwill lost between these two men. 

At once the eyes were again the same blank windows whose scrutiny wasso indeterminate. Burke let down the trap-door in the closet floor, and I paused a while to admire how cunningly it had been designed. Although knowing it to be there, I could discern no trace of theaperture. We then reëntered the bedroom. 

I observed a door in the wall nearest the front of the house, and, seized with a sudden fancy to ascertain upon what it opened, went andlaid my hand upon the handle. Burke's steady progress toward the halldoor seemed to be aimed at diverting my purpose; realizing that he hadfailed, he turned and called aloud, staying my hand while it was in thevery act of turning the knob. 

"That's only the conservatory, " his voice rang out; "it's empty--savefor dust and cobwebs, there 's nothing in it. "

"Nevertheless I have a fancy to explore it, " returned I; and I openedthe door. 

A narrow passage was disclosed, across which was another door. Bothswung open noiselessly, a circumstance which struck me, in view of thefact that the conservatory was empty and unused, as being rather odd;and as I closed the second door behind me, I turned round as if to makesure the latch had caught. 

The hinges had been freshly oiled. 

A bay of glass, semi-opaque with dirt, occupied the space of the outerwall, and the glare from the dazzling snow outside brought out thewhole interior with a sort of brutal vividness. A number ofwater-stained shelves; a few shallow boxes disintegrating anddistributing their contents of earth over the floor; one or two crisp, brown, desiccated plant-stalks: such was the interior of this apartmentset aside and dedicated to flowers and bright growing things. 

And it had been used infrequently as a passageway, too. In the dust onthe floor were footprints; some of them old, where later dust hadsettled, without quite obliterating them; some fresh, as if made but anhour ago. 

As I came up to the next door I observed that its hinges had also beenfreshly lubricated, and was not surprised when it opened without asound. When I stepped through it, I was in the curtained alcove offthe library. Truly, there had been some secret, surreptitiousflittings in this old mansion. 

At that moment, in my abstraction, I was humming a little tune. Iheard Stodger jovially speeding the departing reporters; and after theoutside door closed behind the last of them, I shouted for him to enterthe library. Our eyes met, and I indicated the secretary by thefaintest of signs. 

"Mr. Burke, " said I, quietly, "will you please wait with Mr. Stodgerwhile I have a few words with Mr. Maillot?"

The blank, pale face was turned briefly toward me--or Maillot--then theman bowed without a word, and followed Stodger. He paused an instantat the door, and looked across his shoulder at Maillot; enigma that hewas, I nevertheless again caught a triumphant gleam in the tawny eyes. Then he passed on. 

The fire on the wide hearth had been replenished during our round ofthe rooms; it was now blazing cheerily and doing its best to drive outthe chill and the damp from the library; and it was a relief to getback to the easy leather chairs once more. I rested my forearms uponthe back of one; but the instant the door closed on Stodger and Burke, young Maillot sank with a groan into a chair by the table. 

"The devil! I'm glad you got rid of that fellow, " he muttered. "Hewears on one like the very deuce. "

Now, during the last hour I had been sensible of a growing change inthis young man; of a gradually increasing nervousness andapprehension, --as if I had all the time been pointing out littledetails, which he had previously overlooked and which were formingtogether, link by link, into a chain that would connect him with thetragedy. Up to the present he had concealed his thoughts only with aneffort; but now his expression was become frankly worried and anxious;and as I stood silently regarding him, his agitation measurablyincreased. At last--

"For God's sake, Swift, don't look at me in that way!" came in a suddenoutburst from his tightened lips. "I know--I can see--now that I 'vehad time to think it over--that the facts are damning. If I close mylips and refuse to make any statement at all, it will be equivalent toa confession. On the other hand--"

I waited, silent, motionless, without removing my eyes from his face. Some moments elapsed before he went on, during which he was patentlyexerting an effort at self-control. 

"Swift, " he at last continued, more calmly, "I 'm well aware what yourconclusions must be; the responsibility for that old man's death liesbetween--between that secretary fellow and me; any fool can see that. It's downright devilish to be one of two such alternatives; but if Itell you what brought me here last night--Swift, I just simply can'tcontemplate doing it!"

Again he paused. 

"Take time, Maillot, " I admonished, "but choose wisely. "

He lifted his head with a little jerk. 

"Give me a moment to think. I must decide, and decide irrevocably, whether to become as dumb as a graven image, or else take you into myconfidence. "

At this unfortuitous instant there came a loud rap upon the door, whichimmediately opened to disclose the rotund form of Stodger, and behindhim two slight figures in furs and veils, bearing into this desolateand gloomy old mansion a delicious flavor of young, dainty, prettyfemininity. 

"Miss Belle Fluette and Miss Genevieve Cooper--to see Mr. Maillot, "announced Stodger, with all the absurd importance of a conscientiousflunkey. 

One, a tall girl in brown furs and with truly wonderful hazel eyes, came rapidly, gracefully, into the room, her companion following moresedately, and then stopped suddenly, as if petrified. She stood amoment--this haughty, handsome maid--a lovely picture of bewilderedastonishment. 

"Royal Maillot!" she cried, "whatever in the world has happened to youreye?"

CHAPTER VI

AN EXTRAORDINARY ERRAND

I fancy that in ordinary circumstances Mr. Maillot would have betrayedsome discomposure at the unintentional ridicule of this remarkablypretty girl's _naïveté_, and furthermore, that the fact of his nothaving done so at once perplexed and alarmed her. For a moment shecontemplated his worried countenance in round-eyed bewilderment, andthen glanced inquiringly at me. 

Maillot, in a sober manner, presented me. The handsome brown-eyed girlwas Miss Belle Fluette; the other was her cousin, Miss GenevieveCooper. She, too, was strikingly pretty, but instead of brown, hereyes were a deep and wonderful blue. Her hair was wavy and had many ofthe bronze lights and shadows that lurked in her cousin's reddishtresses, although it approached nearer a chestnut shade than auburn. She was not so tall as Miss Belle, and was more reserved in herdemeanor. 

Yet, in her sidewise regard of Maillot, there was a humorous, shrewdappreciation of his damaged appearance, connoting worldly knowledgesufficient to ascribe it to causes not precisely complimentary to hissobriety. Both, however, were very lovely, and very jaunty in theirturbans and veils and long fur coats, while their cheeks glowed andtheir eyes sparkled from the crisp wintry air. 

Miss Fluette acknowledged the mention of my name a little distantly. She made me feel that she had already surmised trouble, and that shewas disposed to hold me accountable for it. 

Miss Cooper was more cordial. She was very gracious, in a quiet, reserved way, and the expression of her blue eyes was so congenial thatI caught myself more than once attempting to steal a glimpse of hercountenance without her observing me, only to be disconcerted by acandid and not at all shy regard. 

"Can we not go at once, Royal?" queried Miss Fluette, doubtfully. "Itis dreadfully warm and stuffy in here. Jepson is waiting with thecarriage. "

I understood clearly, of course, that my presence accounted for herconstraint. More than likely she would have given much to have gotMaillot away immediately; but he replied, with a gravity that did notease her mind:

"I 'm afraid not, Bell--not for some minutes. Mr. Swift and I have toto discuss Mr. Page's death. "

Instantly her countenance reflected a deep concern. 

"It is true, then, is it, that your uncle is dead?" she asked in ahushed voice. 

His uncle! For the second time that morning I was staggered. FelixPage's nephew and Alfred Fluette's daughter sweethearts! The two menthemselves bitter enemies! One lying cold in death--murdered! Is itany wonder that I was stricken speechless?

"Don't look so astonished, Swift, " Maillot was saying. "That is only apart of what I have to tell. "

"But--Felix Page your uncle!" I marvelled, as soon as I recovered mybreath. "Look here, Maillot, it's not often that I 'm sothunderstruck; why have n't you told me this?"

"It's true, " he said slowly; "he was my mother's brother. Neither ofus was particularly proud of the connection--not enough to brag of it. I was meaning to tell you, though, Swift; it is an essential part of mystory. "

He wheeled a chair up to one side of the table for Miss Fluette, and Imade haste to perform a like service for Miss Genevieve Cooper; an actwhich she recognized with a slight smile and one of her friendly looks. 

"Perhaps you and Genevieve had better get out of your wraps, " the youngman suggested to Miss Fluette, "because I want you to hear all I haveto say to Mr. Swift; it will take some time. "

She was now genuinely alarmed, and the handsome hazel eyes searched hisface with an apprehension and dread that made her love for him only tooapparent. Most young fellows, I hazard, would court any peril for sucha look from a girl as beautiful as Miss Belle Fluette. 

And the blue eyes, too, mirrored anxiety; they turned to me in a quick, questioning glance. I tried to disregard them--to ignore the presenceof these two pretty girls--and confine myself strictly to what Maillothad to relate. It was not easy to do, since Miss Fluette's attitudetoward me had become not only openly accusatory, but more than a littlescornful; and I feared, moreover, that I should shortly lose thesupport of Miss Cooper's sympathetic interest. 

First of all, though, both young ladies were anxious for an account ofthe tragedy--a task of which I relieved Maillot by relating briefly thedetails as I understood them, but, of course, adding no comment thatmight be construed as an expression of my opinion as to who might beresponsible. They listened attentively; but when I had finished, MissFluette turned to Maillot as if I were no longer in the room. Inoticed that Miss Cooper's brow was gathered in a little frown--whetherof perplexity or disapprobation I could not determine--and that she waslooking fixedly at her cousin. 

"Royal, " said Miss Fluette the instant I was through, "is that--is Mr. Burke here?" Unless I was very much mistaken, the abrupt lowering ofher voice which accompanied this question, the sudden narrowing of hereyes, betokened a strong dislike for the secretary. So, then, MissFluette was acquainted with him, was she?

"Yes, he's here, " Maillot absently replied. Then a swift look--a flashof understanding--passed between the two girls. 

Both pairs of eyes, the brown and the blue, avoided mine--in a studiedeffort, I fancied--when I glanced from one to the other to read further. 

After all, I concluded, I was glad these two young ladies happened tobe present. 

"The object of my coming here last night, " the young man at lengthbegan, "was known only to myself and Mr. Fluette, although I told MissFluette the bare circumstance of my intention. My mission would seemso absurd to any sane man, so utterly hopeless; it would be soimpossible to bring any one else to look at the matter from my point ofview, that my fear of ridicule stayed me from taking even her into myconfidence. It was this. "

His voice dropped, and he had every appearance of one who speaks withthe utmost reluctance. 

"I came to ask my uncle for the Paternoster ruby, " he announced. 

I merely waited, neither stirring nor speaking; not so the two girls, however, who made no pretence of concealing their amazement. 

"You asked him to _give_ it to you?" gasped Miss Fluette. 

Maillot laughed bitterly, looking straight at me. 

"I did, " said he, as one convinced that he would not be believed in anyevent. "I not only asked him to give it to me--after having stated myreasons--but he promised to do so--this morning. "

He seemed to measure our incredulity; to determine if its degree wouldwarrant him in proceeding. My own countenance, I know, told himnothing; but it was obvious that the girls were assimilating hisstartling affirmations only with the greatest difficulty. I watchedthem curiously. They knew this young man perhaps better than any oneelse, and their fresh youthful faces were a clear index to theirthoughts. Both were deeply troubled. 

And now Miss Cooper, after a quick side-glance at me, spoke. Her voicewas remarkably sweet and soft, her whole attitude inexpressibly gentle. 

"Royal, " said she, "you are greatly wrought up; I think I know why; buttake your time, and keep nothing back. The truth is not going to hurtyou; lack of candor may be extremely harmful. "

He responded to this appeal with a slight gesture and a rather wistfulsmile; they reflected a certain hopelessness. 

"Swift, " he bluntly asked me, "have you ever heard of that confoundedruby?"

I told him that I was pretty well acquainted with its history; but didnot tell him that I was cognizant of Alfred Fluette's association withit. Neither did I say anything about my knowledge of the long-standingenmity between the two men. I had already received more than one hintthat the causes of the tragedy were deep and powerful, whatever theirnature--I would have to find this out for myself--and I was extremelycurious to hear his story. 

"Then you know of the contest several years ago in London for itspossession, " Maillot pursued; "how Mr. Fluette coveted it for hiscollection, and how my uncle thwarted his efforts to obtain it. Mr. Fluette is very determined, and when his purpose is once set, it is notan easy matter to change or sway it. He was bitterly disappointed, though he never ceased hoping that some day he should acquire thejewel; but knowing Mr. Page as he did, I believe he was in a measurereconciled to a conviction that he would have to wait until the ownerdied. 

"As I have said, his failure to get the stone was a great blow--perhapsmore so than you can imagine; and, besides, my uncle stepping in in theway he did and outbidding him seemed so like a bit of pettyspite-work--dog-in-the-manger, you know--that he could n't get over it. The stone cost my uncle a cool five hundred thousand: a pretty bigprice to pay for the indulgence of a personal grudge, is n't it?

"And now, Swift, knowing all this as I did--the strong aversion whicheach felt for the other--if I should come to you and tell you that Iintended asking my uncle to give me his precious ruby for the purposeof passing it on to Mr. Fluette, would n't you think I had become a fitsubject for a lunatic asylum?"

"Yet, " returned I, calmly, "you say that you did this, and that youruncle assured you he would give you the stone this morning--promisedafter he had heard your reasons. I must admit that your presentdeclarations are very extraordinary; perhaps they will not seem soafter you 've recounted all the circumstances. " And I added a bitgrimly: "I'm growing impatient to hear what moved you to come here lastnight at all. "

Once more the friendly blue eyes met mine, and I felt better for theirencouragement. But Maillot's look became momentarily apprehensive. 

"You already know what my most cherished hope and ambition is, " he wenton, with a glance at Miss Fluette. Their frequent frank exchange ofardent looks would have made that ambition plain, had I not alreadybeen apprised of it. "I 'm fairly well off by reason of a smallinheritance from my father, and I 'm just beginning to make certain myfoothold in my profession: prospects as good as most young men canboast of, I don't hesitate to say. 

"Our engagement, though, has never met the approval of Belle's father. But that fails to express it: he has been actively opposed to me fromthe very start. We had the support of Mrs. Fluette, however, and soremained hopeful--until one week ago to-night. "

He paused, staring gloomily at the table; and both the young ladies nowsat with downcast eyes and sober expressions clouding their prettyfaces, fairly enveloping the young fellow in their silent sympathy. Lucky chap! Maillot should have stood a good deal, uncomplainingly, too, for their deep interest in his welfare. 

He looked up in a moment, and proceeded. 

"At that time matters reached a crisis. Last Wednesday evening Icalled, as I had been in the habit of doing whenever I found anopportunity; and just as I was departing Mr. Fluette sent word to me tocome to his study before I left. For a bit we thought he had relented, but on reflection I could n't entertain the idea; so, much dispirited, I went at once to see him. 

"He was walking up and down before the fire, and, further than to nodhis head toward a chair in a curt invitation for me to be seated, hesaid nothing for several minutes, but continued to pace thoughtfullyback and forth between me and the hearth, as if pondering the bestmeans of opening his mind to me. 

"At last he wheeled about midway in his promenade, and bluntly firedhis first question. 

"'Why do you continue coming here?'" said he. 

"The question stung me--of course it did; but I determined to keep mytemper at any cost, and before I left, to find out at least onespecific, definite reason why he did n't want me. I did, all right. 

"Well, I laid my claims before him, pointing out that I was neither apauper nor a criminal; I told him that Belle and I sincerely loved eachother, and concluded by asking him whether he utterly disregarded hisdaughter's preferences in her choice of friends. 

"'Far from it, ' he replied. 'But I certainly interfere when I thinkshe is exercising bad judgment in such a choice. '

"All at once he leaned forward and rapped sharply with his knucklesupon the table-desk, before which I was sitting. 

"'One thing you fail to take into consideration, ' he said, 'whetherwilfully or not, I don't know, of course; but--to me--it is the mostimportant factor of all. '

"And now, for the first time, I could see that he was not onlypossessed by a deep-stirring anger, but that he had been in awhite-lipped fury during the whole of our conference. He went on:

"'You are Felix Page's nephew. I would rather see my daughter in hercoffin--yes, a thousand times rather--than allied with a man who has adrop of that hound's blood in his veins. That, Mr. Maillot, is myfinal word. '

"These amazing words, spoken in a voice which trembled with passion, left me speechless. But presently I rose and bowed stiffly, utterlydumfounded by the intensity of his hate for my uncle, but neverthelesskeenly incensed and mortified at the injustice he was doing me. 

"What had I in common with Felix Page that I should meekly bow my headbefore the wrath of his enemies? Nothing whatever but that bond ofkinship, to which neither of the persons most interested attached theslightest importance. Mr. Page had ignored my very existence--not thatI had ever looked to him for anything, because I hadn't; but during allmy struggles--through school, college, my efforts at establishing apractice--he never by so much as a word or sign acknowledged that hewas aware that there lived anywhere on the face of the earth such aperson as Royal Maillot. He had quarrelled with my mother shortlyafter my father's death--when I was only a kid--because she would nottake charge of his household on conditions which would have beenintolerable; and then he washed his hands of his sister and her child, I fancy. 

"'Mr. Fluette, ' said I at last, 'since your objections are not worthyof a man of your intelligence and ideals, I choose to think, therefore, that you don't sincerely entertain them; they are grossly unjust toBelle and me alike. ' But he would n't let me go on. 

"'Young man, ' said he, in another wrathful outburst, 'I certainlyadmire your cheek--advising me--in my own house, too--as to mytreatment of my own family!'

"For a second or two I returned his infuriated look; and then, resolvednot to stand there bandying words nor to be led into a quarrel withhim, I said:

"'I 'm sorry, Mr. Fluette--more than I can express--that you feeltowards me as you do. Nobody could be more ignorant than I amconcerning the nature of your feud with Felix Page--unless it is thatyou are visiting upon me the consequences of his opposition to you inthe Board of Trade. '

"He spurned this supposition with a scornful gesture. So I continued:

"'I am glad to know it is not that; I could n't conceive of you doinganything so outrageously unjust. Could anything be more unfair, ' Iasked him, 'than to make me share all the animosities that Felix Pagehas engendered? Why, he is scarcely better than a stranger to me; myprofound ignorance of his affairs is the best testimony that I canoffer in my behalf. '"

He paused a moment and tried to drive the distressed look from MissBelle's face with a cheering smile. He failed to do so, however, andimmediately proceeded with his recital. 

"Well, I failed utterly to move him; but you will be more than merelyinterested in what presently followed. Said he:

"'Admitting all that you say, you have brought forward nothing that isto the point; the one over-shadowing, unalterable fact remains that you_are_ Felix Page's nephew. Prove the contrary to be true--satisfy methat you are free of that detestable blood taint--and you remove thelast of my objections to you as a son-in-law. '

"He fell to pacing the floor again, and then presently he stopped andeyed me with a curious expression; I knew that he was turning somethingover in his mind. When he spoke, his words surprised and puzzled menot a little. 

"'If you are so bent upon having Belle, ' he said, there 's just one wayyou may go about getting her. '

"Considering what he had already said, it is no wonder that I did n'tknow what to say to this. I waited, and his next words betrayed thereal cause--at least, I took it to be the real cause--of his bitternessand ill will. There was a sneer in every word. 

"'Bring me the Paternoster ruby, ' he said, 'and if, in the meantime, she has n't acquired some of the intelligence with which I have alwayscredited her, why, you may take Belle. '

"After I got over being stupefied at the amazing effrontery of thething--if accepted seriously--I began to do some pretty tall thinking, and I thought rapidly, too. 

"'Is that a bargain?' I said at length. 

"I spoke quite calmly and seriously, and he favored me with a surprisedstare. But he snapped out a curt reply. 

"'It is, ' said he. 'And I don't give a rap how you get it, either. Iwish you success. '

"Was I cast-down and disheartened? Swift--good Lord!--words can'tdefine my feelings. Sly disposition is sanguine enough, but when theblue devils once do get hold of me--well, I 'm all in. I believe Isuffer more in the dumps than any other living mortal. 

"But somehow or other, that mad proposal stuck by me; it followed mepersistently into the depths of my misery and colored all my hopelesscogitations--if only I could get my hands upon that bit of crimsonglass! Great Scott, Swift! I believe, had I known where it was andcould have gotten at it, I would have stolen it. Yes, sir, sardonically as it was advanced, the proposal to obtain the Paternosterruby was not to be banished from my mind, and in a day or two I foundmyself weighing the chances of success. 

"Well, the results in favor of accomplishing an undertaking sofoolhardy were, even when contemplated in the most favorable light, exactly _nil_. And then there flashed into my mind a number ofquestions which--and I trust you 'll believe me when I assert it--hadnever come to me before: Who was my uncle's heir? To whom, when hedied, would the ruby go? Who, or what, was to benefit by all that vastwealth he was so laboriously piling up?

"Now I had--and still have, for that matter--good reasons for believingthat I was the only living relative, and of course knew that if he wereto die intestate the whole of his property would pass to me simply byoperation of law. 

"But suppose he _had_ made a will--was it likely that I had beenentirely ignored? The drawing of a will is a solemn matter to theparty most concerned, and at such a time the tie of blood is apt tourge its claims in a still small voice--a mere whisper, maybe, butastonishingly pertinacious. Therefore, was Mr. Page so indifferent tohis only living kin--had all the common feelings of humanity so farevaporated from his heart--that he would remain deaf to that feebleplea?

"The end of this line of thought was a resolution to call upon myuncle, bare my heart to him, and then appeal to him on the strength ofour relationship and his loneliness, to aid me. Without presuming thatI entertained any expectations from him, still, if he meant to rememberme at all, I intended to urge my present necessities as out-weighingevery desire and hope of the future. 

"Hopeless? Crazy? Of course it was! But I never would have beensatisfied until I made the effort. . . . Belle, I want to smoke. "

He paused, and producing a cigarette, lighted it. But as it was plainthat he had not finished, his hearers were far too absorbed in hissurprising recital to break in upon the silence. Miss Fluette hadfollowed his every word with a light of love and sympathy shining inher hazel eyes, which was undoubtedly exerting an encouraging influenceover the narrator; but Miss Cooper, I observed--and not without someinward satisfaction--was covertly watching me, as if she would fathommy thoughts and read the effect which the story was producing there. 

And right here let me say that at the moment I would have been hard putto it if suddenly called upon to define that effect. 

First of all, Maillot had shown that he was keenly sensible of theseriousness of his position, and in looking forward to the incrediblestory he would have to tell, had realized that its entire trend wouldmean self-incrimination. As he himself might have phrased it, he wassupplying me not only with a motive for the crime, but, from the timeof his conversation with Mr. Fluette forward, with evidence whichcumulatively inculpated himself. 

So far, I had felt like one listening to a confession; as if all that Ihad already harkened to was but a preamble to the tragedy which was yetto follow. I may go still farther: the thought occurred to me that hemight be paving the way for justification for a deed of blood. Convinced that the responsibility for Page's death lay between himselfand Burke, it would appear that he was adopting the only means ofgetting out of a bad hole. 

Still I knew in my heart that the denouement of his recital had at bestbeen only hinted at. Had he been under arrest, it would have been myduty to warn him that whatever he might say could be used against himas evidence. Yet I was bound to listen, to encourage him to talk, ifhe would; but I could not help considering the effect this story wouldproduce upon the minds of a jury. I caught a wistful look in the blueeyes; and then I told Maillot something of what was in my own mind. 

"I know it, Swift, " he at once returned. "But I believe my only hopelies in placing myself unreservedly in your hands. I 'm going to trustmyself to your--"

A queer little sound from Miss Fluette--between a gasp and asob--checked him. She got abruptly to her feet, and fixed such a lookof aversion upon me, that I hope I may never again be the object of itslike. It is decidedly unpleasant not to be in the good graces of sohandsome a girl. The color ebbed quickly from her cheeks, her eyeswidened and her lips trembled. 

"Royal, " she said brokenly, but with an effort at self-control, "doesthis--this man mean that you are suspected of--of your uncle's_murder_?" And all her feelings were compressed into the emphasis ofthat last word. 

"Belle!" came in gentle chiding from Miss Cooper, "Don't! Can't yousee that Royal is trusting to Mr. Swift?" Then she too rose; shepassed round to her cousin's side of the table, drew a chair close upto her and sat down. She took Miss Fluette's hand into her own, andsought to draw her back into her seat, just as Maillot spoke up with aconfidence and assurance for which I could not help but admire him. 

"Suspect me!" he cried amazedly, dashing the remnant of his cigaretteinto the fire. "Oh, figs! Of course he doesn't, Belle; but--lookhere: there are plenty who will. I want to make it plain that, in away wholly unintentional on my part, I have got myself mixed up in apretty bad mess, and then I want to make sure of Mr. Swift'scoöperation in my efforts to extricate myself. 

"My dear Belle, "--a gentle note crept into his voice, --"please considerthe circumstances under which I came here last night; think of thetragedy which followed so swiftly; consider the story I have to tell, and then ask yourself, Who is going to believe it? God help us both, dear girl, but this thing has all got to be brought out and aired inpublic!"

The fine brown eyes searched my face. 

"Do you believe that Royal Maillot is guilty of this monstrous crime?"she asked me point-blank. 

Before I had time to frame a reply, she once more sprang impetuouslyfrom her chair, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling with anger. 

"Answer me, sir, do you believe that?"

I replied, then, calmly, if non-committally:

"As Mr. Maillot has said, I am of a disposition to help him out of atight place, and I trust that his friends will not put unnecessaryobstacles in the way of working to that end. "

She said no more. Poor Belle Fluette! She was to have my sympathymore than once during the days that were to follow. Miss Cooper lookedat me a little apprehensively, but I read confidence in her eyes. 

"Let Mr. Maillot proceed, " I now said. "It is not fair to him to failat this stage to hear all that he has to say, providing he reallydesires to continue. I want to ask one question, though, before youproceed. "

"Well?"

I glanced meaningly at Miss Fluette. "Considering all thecircumstances, can you confide in me with propriety--just now?"

"To be sure, " he replied, promptly and earnestly; "as well now as anytime. You may readily imagine that to sit here and unfold affairs sointimately personal is a matter of expediency and not of choice. "

He had missed my point altogether; I wanted to spare the girl. But itwas n't for me to warn him of the complications which were likely toarise from his disclosures. 

"I can well believe that, " said I. "Go on. "

CHAPTER VII

HOW THE ERRAND ENDED

"Don't you know, Swift, " Maillot resumed, after a meditative pause, "that it's a mighty easy matter to misjudge a man? Certain reportsconcerning a person become current, for example, and before we knowit--perhaps without giving the matter a thought--we gradually grow toaccept them as accurately descriptive of his personality. 

"I have wondered more than once during the past week whether we haven't an entirely erroneous conception of every prominent man whom wedon't know intimately. 'By your actions be ye judged'--if we were, most of us would be condemned out of hand. 

"No, sir; it's not by a man's actions that he may be accuratelyappraised, but the motives that lie behind those actions; and thosemotives are exceedingly difficult to define. The incentive that impelsus to a given act may be all right, the intention to perform it thebest in the world, and then the act itself may be all wrong. Who 's toblame then? Who more than any other can set himself up to censure ourconduct, or lay down a code of ethics and morals for his neighbor tofollow? I am assuming that you have heard a good deal about my uncle, and I know the reports concerning him are anything but flattering. "

This speech fell in so harmoniously with my own train of reasoning, that I gave the young man's words the closest attention. Assuming thathe was in fact guilty, as I had already tentatively theorized, thenwould not his present utterances appear very like a plea in vindicationof his deed?--or, at least, as an apology? If he were guilty, he wassupplying me the support of a sound argument. 

His analysis of motives, at any rate, made me exceedingly regardful ofevery shifting light and shade of his really remarkable narrative. Iremained keenly alert not to miss a phase of it, but carefully toponder and weigh every one. 

However, that narrative must not be retarded. 

"Before I came here last night, " he took it up once more, "I thought Ihad imagined every possible combination of emotions with which my unclewould receive my brazen offer; but his amazement when he heard me wasas nothing to mine at the way in which he took it. 

"First of all, in a gruff, glum sort of way, the old gentleman seemedreally glad to see me; but he was in a hurry to warn me that I hadbetter get my errand over quickly, as he was contemplating catching anine-thirty train for Duluth--for what purpose he did n't say. As theevening wore on, however, and after I had once or twice hinted that Icould wait till a more opportune time to make known my business, heimpatiently commanded me to proceed; whereupon I naturally concludedthat he had, since my coming, given over the projected trip. 

"That fellow Burke was in the hall when I entered; and while there wasnothing in his manner that I could have picked out as hostile, still Ifelt vaguely that he resented my intrusion. But why should he? Blamedif _I_ know. As my uncle and I entered the library, Burke had thenerve to butt in with a reference to some papers and a reminder thatthe Duluth train left at nine-thirty. Maybe you think the oldgentleman did n't turn him down cold--didn't bother Burke in the least, though, or interrupt the cool, unwavering inspection that he continuedto bestow upon me. The fellow was fairly burning up with curiosity tofind out what my business was. 

"Well, after Mr. Page and I got in here, he put it to me bluntly: Did Iwant money? If so, how much and what for? Now was n't that anencouraging beginning in view of what I was after? Nevertheless I wasresolved to do or die; to be heard to the end, or else kicked out ofthe house forthwith. That last is what I had coming to me, allright--it's what I was looking for. 

"I began by saying that I simply wanted him to listen to me for a fewminutes--to hear me till I got through--and then he would know wellenough what I was after. I could see that my manner, if not my words, had aroused his curiosity; thus emboldened, I plunged right in. I toldhim of my love for Belle. "

The two of them then and there verified this all-absorbing fact byanother interchange of ardent glances. Heaven knows, neither of themwas in the least self-conscious or at all shy over the matter. MissBelle seemed to glory in it; to accept his unspoken professions ofdevotion with a joyous sort of triumph which crowned her haughty beautywith the shining mien of a conqueror. 

I thought of Mr. Fluette, financier, speculator, man of affairs that hewas, and concluded that I did not at all envy him his self-imposed taskof keeping asunder these two lovers. I wondered, too, in the event hecould be brought to appreciate the depth and sincerity of theirattachment, whether his opposition would still remain obdurate. If so, the future must be dark and stormy--if not tragic--for him. Here was awoman, if I read aright, capable of great sacrifices; she was ready torush headlong into them, too, if need be. 

Ah, well! When did a parent and a lover ever see things from the samepoint of view?

Maillot did not pause long. 

"When I first mentioned her name, --for as I had to do so, I did itboldly, --his interest quickened, and I was positive that his attentionbecame more respectful. He seemed to think quite suddenly that what Ihad to say might be of some importance, after all. 

"Mr. Page was not given to betraying his mind and emotions; indeed, Ibelieve he was usually credited with possessing an abundance of theformer to the exclusion of the latter. Nevertheless I knew that he wasinterested, for it was at this stage that he irritably silenced myreferences to the nine-thirty train. 

"Swift, I don't know whether I can make you see it in the way I do. Itis all so marvellous and strange; the canvas is so big, and I can'thandle my colors very well. During the course of my narrative he wouldsmile now and then, or even chuckle, as though hugely delighted oversome aspect of the subject which did not appear to me as being at allfunny; but the instant I paused, he would promptly command me toproceed. 

"Candidly, his attitude was very mystifying; but since he was not onlyharkening to me, but doing so with a marked, if peculiar, attention, Imade the best of an extremely disagreeable task, and pleaded my causewith all the ardor of which I was capable. "

I here caught Miss Cooper indulging in a furtive little smile. 

"When I concluded by bluntly asking him for the ruby, his face was astudy. " Maillot drew a long breath, and shook his head over therecollection. 

"I wouldn't again undergo the ordeal of the succeeding minutes for awhole bushel-basketful of rubies, every one as large and priceless asthe blessed stone I was after. It was a question whether I 'd have todefend myself from a sudden assault, or be treated as a dangerouslunatic. And all the time he sat there twiddling his thumbs, apparently oblivious of my presence. 

"I can see the old gentleman now. He was sitting there where MissCooper is, his chin on his breast, and from time to time he would takeme in with a look from beneath his gathered brows, which, for sheer, downright hyperborean iciness, had a Dakota blizzard backed away downto the equator and stewing in its own perspiration. I was afraid tosay anything more, and at the same time I was wild with impatience toget some inkling of what was going on behind his impassive crust. 

"And, Swift, you never, never could guess how that silence was broken. He suddenly tossed his head back, and burst out with a great guffaw oflaughter. I jumped clear out of my chair. 

"'What a nephew!' he cried, while I stood staring at him in dumbastonishment. 'Good Lord, what I 've missed by not knowing you allthese years! A chip off of the old block!' He abruptly squared roundon me, and paid me a compliment very similar to one I had heard a fewnights before. 

"'See here, my boy, ' said he, admiringly, 'for pure and unlimitedcheek, you 're in a class by yourself. Why, the very audacity of yourimpudence is not without its attraction! Here you come into my houseand ask me to stand and deliver a fortune, with all the light and airyassurance of a bill-collector. And the best of it is that you are deadin earnest, too--oh, Lord!' And he went off into another gale oflaughter. 

"I here timidly mentioned the fact that I had never in my life beenmore dead in earnest. 

"'Earnest!' he barked at me. 'D' ye suppose I can't tell when a manmeans what he says? Humph!

"'But see here, my lad, it's a pity we were n't drawn together yearsago, ' he broke off to snap at me. 'Sit down! I 'm not going tobite--if I am a "hound. "'

"Well! I dropped back into my chair, where I sat blinking, a good dealbewildered, realizing only dimly that I had not been thrown bodily fromthe house, and, after a while, that he was not even angry. 

"On the contrary, he seemed to be in the best of spirits. Presently hebegan to put me through a cross-examination, which I can recommend as amodel for any one to follow who wants to elicit the minutiae of detailof another fellow's life. 

"Before he finished, he had dragged out everything that had everoccurred to me with which anybody bearing the name of Fluette was evenremotely associated--a complete history of Belle's and my acquaintance, everything I knew or had ever heard about Mrs. Fluette, all aboutGenevieve, and every word that I could remember that had ever passedbetween Mr. Fluette and myself. 

"He took me through my talk with Mr. Fluette last Wednesday night Idon't how many times--anyhow, until he must have had it pretty wellphotographed upon his mind. For some mysterious reason, he seemed torelish the epithet by which Mr. Fluette had referred to him. I 'll betI repeated that part of our conversation a score of times; and everytime I uttered the word 'hound' Mr. Page chuckled. 

"But by and by I came to observe that each mention of either Belle orMrs. Fluette was received with a courtesy and respect for which I couldnot account. I was at last moved to ask him whether he was acquaintedwith them; but he testily shook his head, and bade me with someasperity not to ask questions. He dropped into a brown study prettysoon, so I shut up. 

"When he spoke again his words effectively banished all speculationfrom my mind; in fact, they left me speechless. Of a sudden he lookedat me with a sly smile. 

"'My boy, ' he said, almost in a whisper, 'the ruby 's yours. '"

Thereupon, Maillot declared, Mr. Page inquired whether he had ever seenthe ruby; to which the young man replied in the negative. The fire onthe hearth had by that time sunk to a glowing bed of coals, and, savefor the dim ruddy glow, the illumination was afforded by means of asingle candle--just sufficient to make of the commodious library aplace of ghostly shadows, and failing to relieve its farther reachesfrom utter gloom and darkness. 

"It's a bonny bit of glass, " the old gentleman had next said. "It's ascompact a package, I daresay, as one can crowd a fortune into. I 'llget it. " With a brusque injunction to his nephew to remain where hewas, he took the candle and disappeared behind the curtains of thealcove, which, as the reader will remember, concealed the passagewayextending thence, through the conservatory, and into the bedroom. 

Maillot could not say how long his uncle was gone; he was still toofull of awe and wonder to note the passage of time; but by and by Mr. Page returned, bearing the lighted candle in one hand and a small, worn, leather box in the other. 

The first he placed upon the table immediately, and then, afterresuming his chair, laid the little leather box in front of himself. He sat absently tapping it with his fingers, and from time to timeregarding his nephew with the same secret, indecipherable smile whichthe young man had already observed and wondered at. 

And now we approach the most startling, the most mystifying, stage ofthis amazing conference. 

"Before giving you this ruby, " said Mr. Page, after a while, "I 'mgoing to bind you to a few conditions--for your own protection, " he hadhastily added, with a grin, when the young man's face suddenlylengthened at this unexpected contingency. "You 'll agree fast enoughafter you 've heard me. If you don't, you don't get the Paternosterruby"--and with a peculiar little laugh--"most people would agree toanything for that, my lad. "

Maillot's interest was now centred upon the conditions; and they atonce became a part of the fairy tale of which he was thebeggar-transformed-into-a-prince hero--so much were they of a nature toadd to his elation, rather than provoke objections. 

Therefore he promptly acquiesced in their terms, binding himself uponhis honor as a gentleman to fulfil them to the letter. 

"Take this little box to Fluette, " were the words with which his unclecharged him; "show him the contents, but"--and here Maillot said theold gentleman probed him through and through with a look--"on noaccount allow the ruby to go out of your possession--not even for thebriefest instant. Whatever else he may be, Alfred Fluette is no fool. Once he gets his fingers on this ruby, there 's no telling what he 'lltry to put over on you. Of course he has no idea that you took him athis word, but I reckon he 'll have to believe the evidence of his ownsenses. "

Mr. Page had here rubbed his hands together in secret delight, andMaillot said that his eyes sparkled as he proceeded. 

"Then you can make him come to terms. We 'll see which he wants tokeep the worst--his daughter, or the ruby he 's sweat blood toget. . . . Won't let his daughter marry a man that has a drop of this'hound's' blood in his veins, hey?" Page had snarled. "Well, you justwatch the old 'hound' close his jaws. " Suddenly he became themasterful, domineering man the world knew; he addressed Maillot in thecurt, incisive tones which never failed to exact obedience. 

"You tell him this, young man, exactly as I am telling it to you. Tellhim you have performed your part of the bargain; tell him that thesecond Miss Belle is yours, the ruby shall be his; tell him he shallnever get his hands on it one tick of the clock before. 

"He won't hesitate; I know Alfred Fluette. If you follow myinstructions explicitly, the young lady will be Mrs. Royal Maillot bythis time tomorrow night. If I 'm not very much mistaken, he 'll bethe most astounded man in the world when you open the box. You want todo it, too--open it under his nose; dazzle his eyes--hypnotize him withits blood-red flame. " He had been working himself slowly into apassion; now it ended in a violent outburst. "Make the old dog getdown on his hunkers and beg, d'ye hear? Make him whine! Then closethe box and put it in your pocket. . . . A 'hound, ' am I?"

He sat silent for a while, then went on quite calmly, in his formerconcise manner. 

"I 'll give you a line over my signature--he has mighty good reasonsfor recognizing it on sight--so he can't dispute your right to bargainwith him. Then--"

Maillot's eagerness and impatience were so intense that he had beenunable to restrain himself when the old gentleman lapsed mostvexatiously into a revery. 

"Well?" Maillot had urged. 

"Marry the girl. Then give Fluette the Paternoster ruby. Bring yourwife to me--for after all is said and done, Royal, I 'm a lonely oldman. I 'll see you started on a honeymoon that will make old Fluetteopen his eyes still wider. You never heard that I was stingy when Iwanted to gratify a whim, did you? Well, it's my whim that this thingbe done in the best style. I 'll have to leave that part of it to you. You just go ahead and do the proper thing--and send me the bills. . . . _Hound_? Bah!"

Mr. Page sat toying with the jewel-box many minutes before he expressedhimself as confident that Maillot would carry out his instructions tothe letter; then, without warning, he pressed the spring and the lidflew open. 

The gem lay between them like a splash of crimson flame. 

CHAPTER VIII

MAILLOT'S EXPERIENCE

"We must have made a Rembrandt-like picture"--to quote the young managain--"the two of us bending over this table by the light of asolitary candle. There was a wan reflection of the flame from thepolished table-top, but elsewhere all was darkness and the shadowscrowded in close. The most brilliant thing in the room was thatwonderful jewel, glowing and scintillating like blood-red fire. 

"It was considerably larger than the end of my thumb--as large as a bighickory-nut and, my uncle averred, flawless. Rubies of such a size andwithout a flaw are extremely rare, I believe; in fact, there are onlyone or two known to be in existence. The old gentleman declared thatone of five carats was worth five times as much as a diamond of equalweight, and that the value increased proportionately with eachadditional carat. 

"But I could only sit and stare at it and wonder, and now and thenpinch myself to see whether I was in reality awake and not the victimof a fantastic Arabian Nights sort of dream. "

After a while the conference between uncle and nephew ended. Mr. Pagewould not allow the young man to depart from the house at that hour ofthe night with the gem, pointing out (reasonably enough) that nobodybut a fool would be abroad at such a time with five hundred thousanddollars on his person; though, in his anxiety to secure the ruby and beaway before his uncle had an opportunity to change his mind, Maillotmight have retorted that a fool would not have had it at all. 

"There are men who have left no stone unturned to discover where I havekept _this_ stone, " Mr. Page had concluded, with another chuckle, "andthey have by no means given it up yet. " Then, with grim significancein view of the tragedy which so swiftly followed, --"I 'd have beenmurdered long ago, if it would have helped 'em to finding where I keepthe stone hid. "

The leather jewel-box--shabby, according to Maillot's description, andplainly showing the marks of age--was at last closed, and shortly theyoung man was shown to his room by Mr. Page. 

Maillot declared that, ascribing the circumstance to reaction from theevening's powerful excitement, he almost immediately sank into a deepsleep. 

"I was as exhausted, " he amplified, "as if I had been all day diggingditches or shovelling coal. I could scarcely realize that my missionhad succeeded; I feared the entire proceeding was only a stupendous, ghastly hoax, which my uncle had in mind, but to what end, or who theintended victim, I could not in the least conceive. 

"And then came a crash that made me think the house had collapsed, andI knew I had been asleep. I was only dimly sensible that the noise, whatever its source, had been loud and decidedly out of place in thishousehold at such an hour. 

"I sprang from bed, and first thing banged against the door of awardrobe, which had swung open. It nearly knocked my brains out, andhurt something awful. So I straightway forgot all about the noise, andafter groping a while for matches, presently found one and lighted thecandle. Then I filled the basin on the wash-stand and bathed my eye. "

What followed was something more than corroborative of Burke'sstatement. After the secretary had rapped and Maillot thrown open thedoor, the latter was considerably surprised at Burke's very patentfright. 

"The plain truth of the matter is that the fellow was in a condition ofcowering terror, " was Maillot's language, "and when I learned that hehad n't made the first move toward ascertaining the cause of thedisturbance, why, I simply pushed him to one side and went to see aboutit myself. 

"Burke disgusted me. He would neither approach the body nor allow meto get very far away from him; and when I broached the matter of goingafter help, he even went so far as to argue with me that there was nonecessity for either of us leaving the house until daylight. The meresuggestion that he should wait here alone threw him into a blue funk;so I was finally obliged to tell him flatly, that if he did n't go, Iwould, and that he should n't follow me, either. 

"Well, apparently he chose the lesser of two evils, and went to fetchthe police. "

I remembered Burke's reluctance to come down the front stairs, after Ihad sent Stodger to conduct him to me, together with my colleague'sremark to the effect that "Burke did n't have much sand"; clearly, thesecretary was a coward. 

And now, too, I recalled the triumphant light in his pale eyes, whilewe were inspecting the concealed safe--the only time I had detected anyexpression in them--as if he had already anticipated the predicamentMaillot would be in after relating his story of what had brought him tothis house, and the occurrences of last night. How could he have hadan inkling of all this?

However, at the time I did n't waste many minutes over an unprofitablemental catechism; there were other and more vital matters requiringimmediate attention. I asked Maillot a good many questions, butelicited no further information germane to the tragedy. So I presentlysaid:

"Have you any idea what your uncle did with the ruby after having shownit to you?"

"Well, " he returned, with thoughtful deliberation, "there 's the safe. I suppose, when he disappeared through the curtained alcove last night, he went at once to his bedroom, got the box from the safe, and when weseparated for the night--well, I don't know; I can't guess. When heleft me in my room, he was still carrying the box in his hand. "

"You are positive of that?"

"Yes, positive; for after all that had happened between us, and knowingas I did what the box contained, I remember very distinctly that Ilooked oftener at it than I did at him. The little leather box in hisleft hand is more vivid in my memory than any other detail of hisappearance. "

"But you can remember how he was dressed?"

"Oh, yes; just as we found him. After bidding me good-night, hecertainly did n't go to bed as he announced he should; he could n'teven have started to undress. "

I glanced in Miss Cooper's direction. Her blue eyes were regarding mewith an expression of deep and interested attention, but they alsoyielded a faint light of some emotion which materially aided me to adecision. I can make my position clear only by briefly sketching whatwas going on in my own mind. 

Why did I hesitate to decide between Maillot and Burke in charging oneor the other of them with the perpetration of this crime?--for crime itwas, beyond a shadow of doubt. Well, there were several reasons, anyone of which was sufficient, to indicate what my attitude toward thesetwo men should be. 

In the first place, both had frankly and without the least hint ofreserve respecting each other's attitude that I had been able todetect, told stories which they must have known beforehand would tendstrongly to incriminate them; but notwithstanding this fact, they hadgiven their accounts with a knowledge that if they maintained a strictsilence, I must have remained unable to find this informationotherwise. The hostility between the two--and I could not account forit--did not explain this willingness, because neither had made an openattempt to direct suspicion toward the other. 

I make a possible exception here: Burke's enigmatic conduct while wewere examining the hidden safe might be construed as innuendodeliberately planned. On the other hand, if he were innocent, andconsidering that the two had been alone, then he might honestly havebelieved Maillot to be guilty, but was reluctant to make a charge whichhe was unable to defend with tangible proof. The circumstance of theirstories agreeing in all essentials verified my conclusion that both hadtold the truth; still it was possible that either of them might nothave told all the truth. 

Again, I was convinced by the manners of both that there was morebehind the tragedy than had been made to appear, excepting by thehaziest sort of allusion; a potential factor whose existence had beenbarely suggested, whose nature remained entirely obscure. On thesurface it looked as if somebody had slain Felix Page and stolen theruby. Simple enough. But was this all? I was sure not. 

The point, though, that I wish to make is this: whatever the primemotive for the murder might have been, Maillot had not the slightestidea respecting it, nor did he even suspect that such a motive existed. He was still too dazed from the whirl of events of the past twenty-fourhours to consider the matter in any other light than the way in whichit most nearly affected himself. 

As for Burke, I was pretty much in doubt. I felt that he knewsomething that he was keeping in reserve, but what it might be or howto get hold of him and force the information from him I did not at thisstage know. 

If anything at all about the puzzle was clear, it was that the two hadnot and were not working together. Individually, the evidence--such asit was--more strongly indicated Maillot. It was at this moment that Ilooked toward Miss Cooper and decided. 

"Maillot, " said I, tersely, "it's up to you and Burke to submit to apersonal search. "

He flushed hotly, but maintained his attitude of calm. I did not darea glance in Miss Fluette's direction. 

"Candidly, " I added, "I don't think you have the ruby--for that matter, I don't think Burke has either. But such a proceeding is only fair tome, for if I turn you two chaps loose I 'm taking all the chances. Iought to be bundling you both off to jail; I don't want to do that, yousee, and I deserve some sort of--"

"Enough, " Maillot cut in. "I believe you 're a good fellow, Swift; Ihave no objection to you going over me with a microscope. "

He rose at once, extended his arms above his head to facilitate mytask, and even essayed a bit of banter at my hesitating to begin. 

In truth, it was hard enough to do; the presence of the two girls madethe operation not only doubly disagreeable, but extremely embarrassingas well. Miss Fluette's cheeks were hot with indignation, her hazeleyes snapped. She made no comment--thank goodness!--but it was plainto be seen that she restrained herself only with the greatest ofefforts. I am pretty adept at "going through" a man; and while in thepresent instance it required but a few moments to satisfy myself thatMaillot could not have the gem, I was all the while acutely sensible ofa little foot tapping nervously beneath the table and an angry looksearing my offending back. 

"There!" I ejaculated at last, with an attempt at making light of thematter and at including Miss Cooper and Miss Fluette as recipients ofmy apology. "If you 'll only lose sight of the man in the instrument, you 'll forgive the liberty, Maillot. 

"You may go; but let me tell you"--I eyed them all seriously--"preparefor a grilling at the inquest. I would advise you to be frank, as youhave been with me; the instant a jury feels that answers are beingdragged from a witness they straightway receive a bad impression. I 'msure Miss Fluette would far rather put up with unwelcome publicity, than that you should suffer through any quixotic ideas of shielding hername. "

He took it all as I intended he should, but never a sign of approvaldid I get from the two pretty girls. With my concluding words MissFluette thrust a hand under Maillot's arm and gave it an affectionatelittle squeeze. 

Before the door closed, Miss Cooper's head bent and she glanced back atme across her shoulder. She was much the more beautiful of the two. 

CHAPTER IX

TRACKS IN THE SNOW

I knew that Royal Maillot appreciated his position as well as I didmyself; and I felt perfectly secure in granting him his liberty. Intruth, I had a certain policy in doing so. He might possibly haveslain his uncle; if so, however, the act had not been premeditated, butthe result of a sudden uncontrollable outburst of passion, and he wasnot the sort of fellow who would run away from the consequences, however severe they might be. The effects of my friendliness and mywillingness to take him at his word were plainly demonstrated by agratitude which was the more convincing and trustworthy by reason ofits not being outspoken. If he was keeping anything back, I wasadopting the surest means of forcing his confidence. 

And I meant, too, before I was through in this house of death, to sendAlexander Burke about his business. My plans concerning thatgentleman, however, included an espionage that would record everydetail of his conduct for some days to come. During the time I waswith Maillot in the library, a number of Mr. Page's business associateshad gathered at the house for the purpose of performing such offices asthey could. Among these was Mr. Ulysses White--of White, Stonebreaker& White--Mr. Page's attorney. This gentleman informed me that he wasquite certain the millionaire had never made any testamentarydisposition of his property, in which event Maillot would inherit thewhole estate. This was a contingency which the young man had alreadymentioned, and for a few minutes its reiteration made me grave. 

After spending some unprofitable time with the assembled gentlemen--allmen of affairs who were impatient to be off--I sought out Stodger, finding him engaged in conversation with the coroner's deputy, atalented and ambitious young physician of the name of Wentworth DeBreen. Later on Dr. De Breen and I became warm personal friends, and Ishall have much to say of him before concluding these "Reminiscences. "[1]

He and I went together to the landing to inspect the body, for therewere one or two matters concerning which I was desirous of his opinion. Dr. De Breen was a blunt, abrupt young fellow, not given much toconversation upon topics outside his profession, and even then hisremarks were invariably terse and much to the point. 

He was very near-sighted, and while he persisted in wearingnose-glasses, it seemed impossible for him to obtain a pair that wouldremain on his nose for more than a minute at a time. They were savedfrom destruction by a black silk cord; and there was something in theway with which he would adjust them and fix his attention upon a personor thing, which made you feel that whatever escaped his scrutiny mustbe surpassingly minute. And such, indeed, was the fact. 

He examined the crushed skull, silently and methodically, touching ithere and there with fingers as light and refined as any woman's. Not aword did he utter until of a sudden he bent a scowling look ofcomprehension upon the iron candlestick. The only cranial wound orcontusion was on the right temple. 

"Who did this, Swift?" he asked. 

"That's the problem, Doctor, " was my reply. "There are two chaps, though, who are in a devil of a ticklish position. Since you 're herenow, it will probably be you who will conduct the inquest, and I 'm alittle curious to see how the evidence strikes you. "

He nodded, and after deftly recovering his glasses, emptied thepockets. They yielded up nothing of the slightest consequence toeither of us, and in a moment Dr. De Breen hesitated and frowned overthe body's left hand. 

He presently took it in his own hand, and scrutinized it intently, Iwatching him interestedly, for he had stumbled upon one of the verypoints concerning which I wanted his opinion. Next he turned quicklyto the right hand. Both members were bruised and discolored in spots, and bore a number of abrasions. 

Dr. De Breen now darted one of his quick, penetrating looks at me. 

"Carrying something, " he said concisely. "They couldn't break hisgrip--rapped him over the head. "

"So that 's what you make of those scratches and bruises, is it?"--forI wanted to be convinced. 

"Sure. . . . What was it?"

"I think I know, " was my reply: "an oblong, leather box, about fourinches by three or three and a half. "

"Humph!"--as he filled in the blanks of a removal permit--"not much tokill a man for. "

"Ever hear of the Paternoster ruby?" said I, casually. 

Dr. De Breen turned to me with uplifted brows, and his glasses at onceshot to the end of their tether. He blinked a moment. 

"The devil!" he then muttered. "You don't say!"

From which I gathered that he had heard of it, and also that he hadalready drawn his own inference as to the contents of the leather box. 

"I 'll wait till after the inquest, Swift, " he informed me at parting, with a very direct and authoritative manner; "but if this case turns upany promising features, I 'm in; get that?"

I grinned cheerfully. "Very well, Doc. "

And the last I saw of him, as he went away, he was still feelingaimlessly for the silken cord, the while his mind was intent uponsomething else. A queer, congenial chap was Wentworth De Breen, and askeen and fine-strung, despite his absent-mindedness, as is said to bethe bridge leading across to Mahomet's paradise. He had a whim fordabbling in such puzzles as my calling now and then brought me face toface with; and before I got through with Mr. Page and his ruby, thishobby of the doctor's was to supply me with an invaluable bit ofevidence. 

I carried the removal permit to Mr. Ulysses White, and then betookmyself to a more thorough examination of the tragedy's surroundings. 

First of all, I went again to the untidy bedroom and the closet abovethe concealed safe. 

A careful and methodical search brought very little to light which Ithought might subsequently be of use to me. I examined the safecarefully with an idea of discovering a secret compartment; but therewas none. The position of the safe itself, evidently, had beenconsidered sufficiently private by the builders. 

I paused for a moment beside an old-fashioned walnut table which stoodclose by the bed's head. Its top had been covered at some remoteperiod with artificial leather, which was held around the edges by astrip or braid of similar material, the whole made secure by ornamentalbrass-headed tacks placed at intervals of two or three inches. 

In the dust on the imitation leather cover was an oblong imprint which, the instant I perceived it, I was seized with a caprice to measure. Its dimensions proved to be just four by three and one-half inches. 

Now, this mark in the dust was so manifestly fresh, and its size andshape so suggestive, that before I was well aware of the mentaloperation, my mind had already accounted for its presence there. 

After Mr. Page had obtained the ruby from the safe last night, he had, for some reason, paused by this table before returning to Maillot inthe library, and had laid the box thereon. Why? He had retained thecandle, which he was at the time carrying, for there was no indicationin the dust that he had temporarily relieved himself of that object. Had he turned aside to get something from the bed?--or maybe from thetable?

The first mentioned, though unmade since it had last been slept in, wasnot disarranged in the way one would be obliged to disturb it ingetting at the usual places of concealment, and it was hardly likelythat Mr. Page would have taken the pains to obliterate any suchindications. 

As for the table, it had no drawer. 

Pondering the matter, perhaps more than it warranted, I turned to thedresser. The only detail here worth a passing notice was a smallpasteboard box containing a number of . 38 calibre cartridges. Originally there had been fifty in the box. I counted them. Six weremissing; just the number required to charge the cylinder of mostrevolvers of the same calibre. However, there was no revolver; nor didmy entire examination of the apartment avail to bring one to light. 

At last, --just as I was turning to leave the room, --I received a shockwhich, for the time being, fairly paralyzed me. 

As I have already recorded, the room in which I now was occupied thatportion of the ground floor immediately behind the conservatory, and inthe wing containing the library--that is, the eastern wing, as thehouse fronted south. Two large windows, small-paned and opening onhinges, afforded light and ventilation. It was through one of thesethat my surprise came. 

On entering the room I had drawn aside one of the blinds, and had doneso without more than the most casual glance outward, because I hadalready thoroughly inspected the premises contiguous to the house. 

But now, as I lifted my hand to draw the blind over the window again, Ihappened to look at the snow beneath the window. In a flash I froze, my outstretched hand remaining suspended in mid-air. 

When Burke, Maillot, and I had been in this room an hour or so earlier, the snow was then like an unsullied tablet upon which no character hadbeen written; but since that time--during the very minutes I had beenbusy in this room, perhaps--it had received a record. Somebody withunusually small feet--small enough to be a woman's--had walked aroundfrom the front of the house to the window. After looking in--possiblyat me intent upon my investigation--the mysterious prowler had departedagain, but not as he had come. The retreating footsteps extended awayat a right angle from the house, and at a short distance disappearedamong some shrubbery. 

A moment's reflection made me feel sure that only my presence in theroom had forestalled a rather perilous undertaking. Why should anybodywant to look in, simply, and why adopt such a compromising means ofentering, if the temptation had not been extraordinarily powerful?

My hesitation was but momentary. I flung open the window, leaped outand commenced running along the trail of the daring, unknown visitor. The visit had been so recent that I was spurred by a faint hope ofovertaking the fellow. 

I had not proceeded far before I heard a shout from the house. Iglanced back without slacking, and saw Stodger staring at me inamazement from an up-stairs window. Motioning to him to remain wherehe was, I continued to follow the footprints. 

As soon as the bushes screened me from the house, I arrived at a pointwhere the trail presented a new aspect: the distance between theimpresses measurably widened, signifying that my unknown caller hadbroken into a run the instant the shrubbery concealed him from thehouse. I quickened my pace. 

The chase led me to a low stone wall marking the boundary of thepremises, across some vacant lots, to the intersection of two streets, where the presence of a trolley line discouraged further pursuit. 

On one of the corners, however, stood a grocery of the suburbanvariety; and when I arrived hatless and without an overcoat, the grocercame out, and eyed me curiously. 

"Did you see anybody just ahead of me come this way?" I panted. 

"Yep, " returned the grocer. "Fellow came running across those lots notfive minutes ago. Three other fellows waiting for him on the cornerhere. "

"Three others!" I exclaimed. I had n't the least idea what it allmeant. 

"Yep, " said the grocer. "When he came there were four. The wholebunch caught a down car. They was Chinymen. "

I could do no more than vent my bewilderment in ejaculations. 

"Chinamen!" I cried. 

"Or Japs, " remarked the grocer. "Come to think of it, they must 'vebeen Japs; they did n't have no pigtails. "

Well, there was nothing else for me to do but turn round and go backthe way I had come. The grocer could tell me no more, and I wascompletely stumped. Why four Chinese--or Japs--should be interested inmy movements in the Page house I could not in the least imagine. 

But one thing was certain. I had skirted the border of some secret, desperate enterprise. It challenged directly all my powers andcapabilities. I was irritated, nettled, not at my inability to fathomthe mystery at once, but at a species of mental numbness whichprevented me from even conjecturing a plausible theory to account forthe strange episode. 

I strode along in a deep, moody revery, unconsciously scanning each inturn of the absurdly small footprints. I vaulted the low wall into thePage premises, and before I had fairly recovered my balance, I pouncedupon a folded sheet of paper which lay in the snow on one side of thetrail. 

I unfolded it. The sheet bore a roughly sketched floor plan of somehouse's interior. There was a wide hall, a square stair-well, andthree or four rooms. One of the rooms--the smallest--had beendesignated by a cross. 

All at once I uttered a little cry. This was a second-floor plan ofthe very house I had been exploring. Although I had not been up-stairsyet, I had seen enough of the relative positions of the different roomsto recognize the one indicated by the cross. 

It was the bath room. 

[1] Dr. De Breen figures conspicuously in the remarkable case of EstesLamar, chronicled in the third volume of Inspector Swift's"Reminiscences. "

CHAPTER X

THE SECOND STORY

The reader will have observed, very likely, that up to the present Ihave made no mention of a close examination of the second story, nor, moreover, of having ascended the stairs above the balcony-like landingwith its grewsome burden. 

Such was indeed the case; and while my failure in this regard mightargue neglect, or at least a strange lack of system, I can only pointout that the entire sequence of events, from the moment of my arrivalat the house, had been most unusual. 

It is rare that so many divagations become inevitable. I was obligedto acquaint myself with the circumstances as they forced themselvesupon me, and not as if I had been free to ferret them out in accordancewith any customary course of procedure. All along I had been impatientto get up-stairs; but first one thing and then another had arisen, demanding immediate attention. We shall soon learn, however, how mysearch in the second story was rewarded. While the results may appearnot very significant, they were nevertheless of vast importance inpointing a way to the riddle's answer. 

For, mind, although I was reasonably sure that the ruby represented themotive for the murder, I had been given a number of reasons forbelieving that this motive involved a plot infinitely farther-reachingthan the determination of some common thief or housebreaker to securethe gem. If I wanted to fix responsibility for Mr. Page's cruel death, I would be obliged to lay bare the controlling cause in all itsramifications. Whether Maillot or Burke was the guilty man, it was atthis stage of vital consequence that the State's Attorney be givenlight upon every factor in the tragedy; and as this was my business, itis not surprising that I was animated with an ambition to make athorough job of the matter. 

And furthermore, I was satisfied that the Paternoster ruby had not yetbeen removed from the house, wherever the murderer might be--a beliefwhich I was very shortly to have strengthened by certain seeminglyunimportant incidents. The trail in the snow was one of theseconfirmatory incidents, although I had no occasion yet to so regard it. 

While it was my first duty, therefore, to discover the murderer, I sawno reason why I should not at the same time find the well-nighpriceless gem, inasmuch as I hoped that the latter would pointdefinitely to the former. 

The ruby had disappeared between eleven o'clock last night and the timeof Stodger's arrival--shortly before three in the morning. One of thetwo men who had passed the night in the house might have secreted it. Their presence offered the most plausible explanation. 

Was Maillot the one? His fantastic story was certainly a strain uponone's credulity, I must confess; yet, I had sat face to face with him, and I am not without skill--nor was I at the time--in penetrating aman's outward aspect and discerning the sincerity of his purpose. Injustice to him, I can not emphasize too strongly how convincing hadbeen every utterance of his, the which I have been at some pains torecord. And then, I could not attribute the freshly oiled hinges northe rifled safe to Maillot. Consequently the next step was to turn toBurke: when I did so I was met only by a mental image of hisinscrutable tawny eyes; the baffling, impassive visage which showed nomark of age. 

Well, Maillot did not have the ruby. And now, if a search of Burke'sperson and belongings resulted as the former search had, why, I mustlook to some hiding-place near at hand. 

And this was a task after my own heart. I cast ahead in pleasedanticipation to some delightful hours after nightfall in this drearyold mansion, when I would be alone and at liberty to pursue my questwith the least likelihood of being disturbed. 

If the ruby were really here, I meant to remain pretty close to ituntil it came to light, or else have a dependable substitute take myplace when it should become necessary for me to go abroad. It was thisdetermination which led to the scar that will disfigure my face as longas I live. 

The erstwhile secretary submitted without demur to an examination ofhis clothing, and without any change of expression that I couldperceive. The pale eyes followed my movements with a blank, incuriousstare (though Stodger maintains that they did not cease for an instantregarding him), and I was glad enough to see the fellow depart, after Ihad privately passed word to Stodger not to lose Burke until anotherman could relieve him. 

The flight of stairs above the landing gave upon a hallwhich--excepting in the front, where there was a large diamond-panedwindow--entirely surrounded the stair-well, and was continued by alateral passage connecting the gables or wings. 

[Illustration: Diagram of second floor]

One leaning over the balustrade at the top looked down upon theascending stairs, the balcony midway up, and a good portion of thespacious hall below. The lateral hall gave access to all the rooms onthe second floor. 

An examination of the appended plan, although drawn from memory and byfingers to which such a task is strange, will give a better idea of the_locus criminis_ than any amount of verbal description alone canaccomplish. So the reader, if he will consult the chart from time totime as the narrative proceeds, will escape much confusion in hisattempts to follow the movements of the different actors. 

Arriving at the head of the stairs, I first gave my attention to the_étagère_. This piece of furniture was simply a pedestal of shelves, without sides, front, or back, so that to tilt it in any direction farout of the perpendicular would mean to spill its burden of oldnewspapers and periodicals. 

Maybe it would have been convenient in a music-room, but situated whereit was it was certainly in the way of anybody using the stairs. If aperson unfamiliar with the house should ascend the stairs in the dark, the instant he turned at the top he must almost inevitably collide withit--a circumstance which I was to have brought home to me a few nightslater, with consequences which missed being fatal by only theslenderest of margins. But after all, I concluded, if a strangermissed it only by a miracle it might have served a double purpose here;no one slept in the second story, ordinarily, and it would make a goodburglar alarm, as well as a repository for the iron candlestick and thesea-shell match receptacle. 

From the point where it now leaned against the balusters back to thelateral corridor or hall, there were many little details to arrest andstimulate my curiosity. The carpet between these two points plainlyshowed signs of a recent struggle, and at the western vortex of theangle formed by the balustrade surrounding the stair-well, innumerabledrops of congealed paraffin were scattered widely over the floor. 

And the railing itself also held a record. Stout as were the uprightssustaining it, it had received the impact of a body sufficiently heavyto throw it askew. At this point on the railing there was a deeptriangular dent, destined to assume a high place in solving the problemof Felix Page's murder. 

When I stood directly in front of the bath room door, I could look downover the balustrade to the landing--the body had been removed to a moresuitable place--and I could also see the front door and most of thefirst-floor hall. 

A dozen or so feet west of the stair-well two doors opened upon thelateral passage. They were directly opposite each other; the frontroom having been the one occupied by Maillot the previous night, whilethe other was Burke's. 

Now as I allowed my glance to rove along the dim-lighted hall in thedirection of the two bed-chambers, it was at once arrested by somesmall--and at the distance, indistinguishable--object lying in thecentre of the floor a few feet beyond the two doors. I went and pickedit up. 

It was the shabby leather jewel-case. 

But now it bore many indications of extremely rough usage. It was notonly open, but empty; the lid was bent, twisted out of shape, andhanging precariously by one damaged hinge. The leather was freshlytorn and scratched, while the inner lining of faded blue satin had beenslit in a number of places. I contrived after some manipulation to getthe box into a semblance of its former shape, and then slipped it intoa pocket of my coat. 

Neither Maillot's room nor Burke's revealed anything of muchconsequence. In the former I noted the open wardrobe door, and, owingto its position relative to the bed, was obliged to admit thelikelihood of Maillot's accident. In the other room, in a smallleather satchel, were the papers by which Burke accounted for hispresence. They were of no interest to me. I turned them over to Mr. White, who, with the other gentlemen, was just departing. 

With a feeling of lively anticipation, I entered the bath room. I hadnot forgotten that this room alone had been designated by adistinguishing mark on the chart which I had found while following themysterious footprints. But I discovered nothing to justify my hopes. The place was monotonously like other bath rooms in which I had been. I gave it an exceptionally thorough overhauling, then went carefullyover it once more--even resorting to my magnifying-glass from time totime--but all to no purpose; the room was discouragingly wanting inanything that might be regarded as a clew. 

In the end I fell to musing over a bar of common laundry soap on thestationary wash-stand. It was impossible not to contrast this humbledetergent--for it was of a bigness and coarse yellowness to suggest thelargest possible quantity for the smallest possible price--with thedead man's wealth, and to wonder a little at such petty economies aswere signified by it, by the paraffin candles, the absence of servants, and by some other details of the _ménage_ which perhaps I have alreadymentioned. 

I recalled, with a smile, that Burke had smelled of laundry soap, andthat on the wash-stand in Maillot's room there had been no soap at all. Well, there are some queer ways of utilizing wealth; but I contendthat, of all of them, to deny oneself the commonest comforts ofexistence is the queerest and the hardest to understand. A philosophyof living is involved utterly incomprehensible to me. 

Passing through the bath room, I emerged upon the landing of the rearstairs. Across the landing was another small room, which contained, besides a dust-mantled sewing-machine, nothing but some broken andworn-out furniture. 

I followed the stairway to the bottom, and about half-way down found abit of flattened paraffin about the size of my thumb nail. 

After re-ascending these stairs I stood once more looking idly downover the balustrade, going over in my mind the parts of the puzzlewhich had been set for me to bring together into an intelligible andperfectly rounded whole, and wondering what I would succeed in makingof it all. For a while I was aware of a strange lack of confidence inmyself, of a feeling of uncertainty. Had I been negligent in notarresting both Maillot and Burke? It seemed the simplest and mostdirect method of proceeding; it would be no difficult matter to fastenthe crime on one or the other, or both of them; why should I go behindthe few plain details which lay so invitingly before me?

Perhaps the intrusion of a pair of blue eyes into the midst of mycogitations had much to do with my irresolution. Somehow I wasextremely desirous of winning their approval. The possibility that Imight win more did not enter my thoughts, because, I reflected ratherdismally, the owner of the blue eyes moved in a sphere in which I hadneither part nor parcel. 

Still, my determination to solve the mystery of Felix Page's death wasinextricably interwoven with another determination to win one finalfriendly, commendatory look--perhaps a word or two, or even a warmhand-clasp--from Miss Genevieve Cooper. 

How was I to do that? By fastening an odious crime upon her cousin'slover? I shrank from such an alternative. Heaven grant that so far Ihad not reasoned falsely. 

It may seem a poor business thus to mix sentiment with one's humdrumdaily affairs; but--well, and so it is. After mature reflection, I canthink of but one extenuating plea: I was only twenty-six at the time. 

Up to the present it had been difficult to ascribe to each circumstanceits own proper value; but now they were beginning to shape themselvesinto some semblance of order, and for the first time a fairly completeconcept of the tragedy's enactment irresistibly presented itself to me. 

The antecedent circumstances leading up to the crime, however, werelargely conjectural, although they were pretty strongly suggested bythe details of the struggle itself. I was thus enabled to supply themissing portions with more or less plausibility. Here, then, is theway I reconstructed the night's occurrences in this house--the fatalsequence of events which began when Felix Page bade Maillot good-night, culminated in the older man's death, and ended with the flight of themurderer. You will perceive that the four "Chinese" had no place init; I could find none for them. 

After Mr. Page and Maillot separated, for some reason the former hadnot retired. I took it as being more than likely that he had returnedto the library, where presently he fell into a doze before the dyingfire. But, no, first of all he went to the safe to dispose of the boxcontaining the ruby; after that he returned to the library. While henodded over the fire the thief stole to the safe, opened it _with thecombination_, and took not only the ruby, but everything else thestrong-box contained. 

But cautious as the thief is, some disturbing noise penetrates to thesleeper's consciousness; in fancy we may see the old man--fox, pirateof the pit, as he had been called--starting broad awake, fearless, every faculty alert and strained to catch the betraying sounds. 

In a moment he bestirs himself to ascertain what is afoot in his houseat so unseemly an hour. Noiselessly he enters the hall from thelibrary, in time to behold the marauder--by the latter's own candleflame, I was positive--ascending the front stairs. 

And here the tragic episode departs from all precedent; at this stageit assumes its baffling aspects. If the thief had not been a member ofthe household--even but a temporary member--why should he have gone upthe stairs instead of leaving the house by the nearest way? And again, why should Mr. Page have followed the thief so stealthily if he had notrecognized him?

But the master of the house steals on up the stairs behind the other. At about the time he arrives at the head of the stairs the thiefvanishes: else why did Mr. Page pause to light the candle in the ironcandlestick which stood upon the _étagère_?

Fatal move, that! In some manner the _étagère_ is knocked forwardagainst the balustrade; the thief is alarmed, although some door musthave closed behind him. And now the old gentleman is facing no longera thief merely, but a man with murder in his heart. 

Which door had it been: Maillot's, or Burke's, or yet some other door?

Once more we are given a strong indication that Felix Page knew theman, for he and the assassin _in limine_ do not immediately close incombat. Not yet. Some words certainly pass. The taper in the heavyiron candlestick must burn long enough to account not only for thedrops of paraffin scattered about over the floor, but those that ranlike congealing tears down the side. 

I could fancy the outraged and mystified old gentleman demanding anexplanation, and before long exploding with wrath, the thief standinghopelessly convicted--caught "with the goods. "

Suddenly the struggle is precipitated by the infuriated householderendeavoring to recover his property. We may safely assume that it wasby no gentle means that he sought to do this, and at once the battlewages to and fro between the head of the stairs and the lateralpassage, quite up to the bath room door. The thief is striving toretain the leather box, the other to wrest it from him. 

It is pretty certain, too, that the old gentleman hastily put down theiron candlestick before he grasped the box--on the floor, somewherenear the western angle of the balustrade--and in the end, as the combatin one of its uncertain revolutions sweeps past it, the thief freeshimself with a desperate effort, snatches it from the floor, andbecomes an assassin _in actu_. 

The dull impact of the blow, as the scene is blinded by suddendarkness; the crash of the body against the railing; the dominant jarwhen the body strikes upon the landing below--and the dark deed isaccomplished. 

What next follows?

Panic on the part of the murderer, we may be sure, as he stands onesecond in a stupor of horror at what he has done; then he must haveflown--whither?

It is at this juncture that Alexander Burke steps into the hall, andbeholds nothing in the light of his own candle. It is at this pointthat Royal Maillot springs from his bed, collides with the openwardrobe door, and straightway forgets the tumult in his own physicalsuffering, until Burke raps upon his door. And it is at this pointthat, unless there was some third person in the house, either one orthe other of these two young men has deliberately lied. In turningthem both loose I trusted to convict the guilty man by his own conduct. It will develop how far my course was justified. 

The mute but vivid testimony would seem to lead, step by step and withirresistible logic, straight to the private secretary--had it not beenfor two circumstances which placed him once for all beyond thepossibility of having been the person who struck the blow. 

First, he would have been but as a babe in Felix Page's powerful grasp;there would have been no struggle at all. 

Second, the fellow was an arrant coward, and he would never haveoffered the least resistance unless convinced that he was in imminentperil of his life--which was improbable. 

The rear stairway was associated with the thought of Burke's cowardice, for he had chosen that way to accompany Stodger: whose shoe-sole hadleft the flattened fragment of paraffin there?

For some time I had been alone in the house--save, of course, for thestill, sheeted form. The place was as silent as any tomb. Then of asudden a sound smote upon my ear that brought me in a flash toattention. 

There is a certain fascination about a door slowly opening in a housewhich you suppose to be empty. Until you have found out the cause youascribe it to anything from ghosts to Bengal tigers, and even then maybe sure of a surprise. The invisible agency may turn out to be onlythe wind or a wandering cat. But it makes no difference what startsthe door to swinging open; the bald fact of its doing so when by allknown laws it should remain firmly shut, is _per se_ potent enough, orhypnotic enough, --or whatever influence it is that it exerts, --to rootyou at once to the spot until the Unseen declares itself. In truth, anopening door is pregnant with such infinite possibilities. 

It was with some such sort of suspended animation that I stared downover the balustrade and waited, my look glued upon the front door. Itswung inward with a slowness inexpressibly aggravating. And then Irecoiled with a little cry. 

Miss Genevieve Cooper was standing in the lower hall, pale andtrembling, and darting quick nervous glances in every direction. 

CHAPTER XI

A PACT

At my involuntary expression of amazement, Miss Cooper looked up, and oureyes met. Her charming face immediately broke into a smile; her fearsseemed to fall away from her like the dissolving of a sun-smitten mist. 

"Mr. Swift!" she exclaimed under her breath. Her voice expressed relief. And, too, she spoke as if there might be others in the house whom hererrand did not in the least concern. "I 'm so glad! I was afraid Ishould not find you here. "

The idea of her wanting to find me for _any_ reason was distinctlypleasing. I 'm afraid I appeared for the moment a trifle foolish; I wastongue-tied, at any rate. 

"May I come up?" she went on brightly. "Or will you come down?"

She was so pretty standing there and looking up at me, so everything thata dainty, refined little lady should be, that I could have remainedindefinitely watching her. 

But I 'm glad to say that I did not. I found my tongue by and by, andvoiced some inane remark to the effect that she might most assuredly"come up, " if she had the least inclination to do so, but, on the otherhand, that I was more than willing to "come down. " Which I did, when shemade known her choice by sitting down in the settle Stodger and I hadoccupied some hours earlier. 

But I moved down the steps deep in meditation. Great as had been mysurprise when the opening front door disclosed Miss Cooper, I was notlong in surmising why she had come, and I was more than a triflereluctant to discuss the brutal details of the tragedy with a lady soobviously gentle and refined. The subject was so utterly foreign toanything within her experience that I felt she could harken to and reviewthe different aspects of the crime only with shuddering aversion. But, dear me, how incapable is any man of estimating a woman's fortitude!

While I descended to her, she continued to talk--the merest bit flurried, perhaps, but with a direct, fearless glance which the dullestcomprehension must have understood. 

"I suppose I should have rapped, " she was saying; "but who was here toopen the door? Poor Mr. Page! Poor man! How terrible it is!"

She was a little awed, and seemed glad when at last I stood confrontingher. 

As if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, she made room onthe settle for me to sit beside her. I did so, awkwardly enough. Therewas not the slightest trace of coquetry in her conduct, she was entirelyfree from the least indication of affectation, and I could not dootherwise than meet her in the same spirit, although I apprehended somedifficult moments before our colloquy should be finished. Her errandmust indeed be urgent that she should alone brave this house of death. 

After a minute of hesitation on her part, during which she sat withdowncast eyes while I took a base advantage of the opportunity to drinkin her loveliness, she abruptly faced me. Her countenance reflected anexpression of determination, tempered by the wistfulness of uncertaintyand doubt. 

"Mr. Swift, " she began, in a straightforward manner, "it was simplyimpossible for me not to have sought you out--if not here, then at thepolice station, or wherever it is you make your headquarters. "

I remarked that a message would have brought me speedily to her. 

"Oh, no!" in quick protestation. "There is no place where we could havebeen private--to-day. And, besides, I would n't have put you to so muchtrouble. "

"Trouble!" I interrupted. "I would have been only too glad. "

She smiled at my warmth, proceeding:

"Anyhow, I succeeded in finding you alone; now tell me--truly--am Ibothering you?"

"Truly, you are not bothering me in the least. I can fancy nothing nicerthan sitting just like this and talking--with you. It's so--so--"

"Comfy?"--archly. 

"Exactly. But that's a woman's word; I never would have thought of it. "

The handsome eyes flashed a look at me which made me hastily revise myopinion that she was entirely free from any trace of coquetry. 

"I did n't come here to listen to nice things, " she said, smiling into myeyes; "I 'm awfully serious. "

And, in very truth, she straightway grew grave. She drew a long breath, and sat suddenly more upright, questioning me with a look. Such fine, honest eyes!

Her first spoken interrogation was direct enough, in all conscience;while I was expecting some such inquisition, I was by no means preparedwith an immediate answer. 

"I want to know, Mr. Swift, --is it going to appear that Royal Maillotmurdered his uncle?"

She spoke very quietly, but, too, very earnestly. Murder is an uglyword; I marvelled that she did not shrink from it. 

"Why are you so anxious to know, Miss Cooper?" I temporized--"out offriendship for Mr. Maillot?"

"No, " frankly meeting my intent look, "though that would be a sufficientreason. " She paused a moment, biting her under lip in the intensity ofher musing. Then, --

"Mr. Swift, I 'm going to be perfectly candid with you; I 'm going to laybare my mind--and my feelings. I pray that you will do the same by me. Am I presuming too much?"

Lay bare my feelings--great heavens! She would have thought me crazy. In a sense, Torquemada himself could scarcely have made me moreuncomfortable; but I would not have had that delightful _tête-à-tête_broken in upon for anything in the world. 

"I realized this morning, " she proceeded, after I had clumsily begged herto, "that Royal is in a desperate plight, though why or how he came to beI can't understand. 

"I realized, too, that the story he told will appear incredible--evenridiculous--to anybody who does not know him. I do know him"--I couldwell believe that!--"and for that reason, nothing short of an admissionof guilt from him would cause me to consider him as a participant--in anycapacity, Mr. Swift--in last night's tragedy. "

"Your loyalty does you credit, " I murmured, for lack of anything betterto say. 

"Loyalty?" she cried, with emotion. "Oh, Mr. Swift! That's not theword! It's not loyalty that moves me to speak in Royal's behalf, although I would do much for him in any case. But--Belle--"

She was stopped by a sudden accession of feeling, and I tried to injectinto my demeanor the encouragement she quite plainly needed. 

"Before you go on, " I quietly observed, "I will say that Mr. Maillotimpressed me very favorably. "

"Yes, " quickly; "I also perceived that. It was that circumstance whichfinally overcame my reluctance to intrude upon you. You were greatlypuzzled, though, baffled, by his extraordinary story. "

"Not baffled, I trust, " I said. 

"Well, no; perhaps not baffled. But the extravagant recital that fellfrom his lips must have seemed to you fantastically improbable. 

"It is chiefly for Belle Fluette's sake, however, " she pursued, "that Iwant to learn--oh, everything about this dreadful affair--all the littledetails. I want to enlist your sympathies for Royal; not against him. "

It was a relief when she grouped her desire for information into thisvague generalization; I could see my way as long as she was not toospecific. But some further intimate knowledge respecting this prettyyoung lady was imminently in store for me. 

"Miss Cooper, " said I, "I am against no man--except the guilty one; andeven he, in a measure, has my sympathy. "

"Then"--she was suddenly breathless--"in your estimation. Royal is _not_the--the--not the guilty--"

My smile checked her. Alas, I was not to escape. 

"You read a meaning into my speech that was not in my mind, " I said--andimmediately regretted it. Her countenance at once reflected a deepconcern. 

"Please, please, Mr. Swift, don't be inscrutable with me, " she pleaded. 

I thrilled at the wistful light in her handsome blue eyes, and I lookedlongingly at the wavy brown tresses and at the scarlet lips, now eagerlyparted and revealing a glimpse of pearly perfection beyond. Suchdelectable realities were quite unknown in my lonely life, and beforethem the image of Miss Fluette's more highly colored and aggressivebeauty faded away to a mere blur. 

"Miss Cooper, " I rejoined, with perhaps unnecessary warmth, "heavenforbid that I should not be frank with you. The truth is, I 'm sorelyperplexed. It did not require this appeal from you to spur me on to finda way for Mr. Maillot out of his predicament, for undeniably--whether byhis own fault or by accident--he 's in a very serious one. Maybe, if youwill state more definitely just what you want to know, I can then tellyou. "

The expressive eyes thanked me, then suddenly twinkled with a gleam ofhumor. 

"Even a mere man, " she sagely remarked, "could not have remained blind tothe fact that Belle and Royal--foolish children!--are awfully fond ofeach other. "

"Your assumption of mature wisdom is eminently becoming, " said I, "because it is so apparent. "

"My!" she retorted. "I really believe you improve with acquaintance. "

"Thanks, " I said; "I need encouragement. "

"On the contrary, " she said coolly, "I think a snubbing is what you need. "

I dodged. "Yes, " said I, "I could not help noticing that their affectionis--er--rather immoderate. "

Instantly a tiny line appeared between her brows; she was all seriousnessagain. 

"There you have my interest in this matter--my reason for meddling, " sheinformed me. "Belle's welfare means a great deal to me; just how muchyou can perhaps best understand after hearing a bit of my history. Haveyou the patience?"

What a question! Lucky it was for me this day that I could combinebusiness with the delight of revelling in this agreeable _tête-à-tête_. It was lucky, in truth, for all who were being drawn into the web of thePage affair. For if the two had not fitted so smoothly together, theinterests of the Central Office would have been forgotten. 

She colored prettily at the ardor of my gaze--it was of no use; I couldn't help it--but save for the circumstance that she temporarily avertedher look from mine, went steadily ahead with what she had to say. 

"I have been an orphan ever since I can remember, though my father andmother are not even memories. They fell victims to yellow fever in NewOrleans before I was two years old. Uncle Alfred took me at once intohis household, which has been my home all of my life that I know anythingabout. 

"I am two years older than Belle, but reared together as we have been, weare more nearly sisters than cousins. Indeed, I even believe that we arecloser together than most sisters; we love each other very, very dearly. 

"You can see, then, how anything affecting her will equally affect me. Belle has been gently nurtured; she is a proud, high-spirited, intrepidgirl, but of a delicate organism that would break beneath the shock ofRoyal Maillot being stigmatized by such a crime. I tremble to think ofit!"

Her look was again bent upon me, with utmost gravity now, and her voicebroke a little as she concluded:

"Can you comprehend my anxiety, Mr. Swift? Can't you see that I wouldmake any sacrifice to forestall such a dreadful chance?"

In spite of her reserved nature and admirable habit of self-control, itwas easy to see that she was deeply affected; she was, indeed, torn byconflicting doubts and anxieties; and I became meditative and, for hersake, exceedingly desirous of lightening the burden of her worry. 

That very beautiful and very wilful young lady, her cousin, would neverhave made such an appeal to me. I did not care to conjecture the way inwhich she, long before this stage of the conversation, would have beenexpressing her indignation and withering me with her scorn and contempt. 

"Miss Cooper, " said I at length, "assume for just a moment that Mr. Maillot _is_ guilty: would you counsel me, for the reasons you havestated, to turn aside from my duty and permit him to go unpunished?"

She caught her breath sharply. Her lips went suddenly white, and herlook became a trifle wild. I watched her keenly. 

"Mr. Swift!" she presently whispered, in dismay. "How unfair!"

"I do not mean to be unfair, " I tried to make clear; but she cut me short. 

"Are you trying to prepare me for--for the worst?"

"Gracious, no!" I expostulated, with an embarrassed laugh. "But I shouldlike to have you answer my question. "

"It is hideous even to assume such a thing, " she very soberly madeanswer; "but if such were actually the case, I--I--"

"Well?" I prompted curiously, when she paused and pressed a hand to herthroat. 

Of a sudden the lovely eyes were brimming with tears. She timidly laid ahand upon my arm. 

"You _don't_ think he 's guilty, do you?" she murmured distressfully. Itwrung my heart. 

"Don't--please don't, " I said hastily. "Here is my honest opinion, MissCooper: whatever that young man has done to involve himself in thisaffair, I am sure that he is no deliberate, cold-blooded assassin; myjudgment of his character could not be so far at fault. 

"For the same reason I am strongly inclined to believe his story, preposterous as it appears standing alone. I don't mind admitting--toyou, Miss Cooper--that I 'm looking beyond him for the guilty man. "

She drew a long breath of relief and clasped her hands in her lap. Buthow little did either of us realize that we had disposed of one difficultsituation only to turn round and find ourselves face to face withanother. My candor, to which she had made such a powerful appeal, soonled to an impasse; one that neither of us was in the least prepared for. 

"Of course, " she said presently, in a low voice, "I would not utter aword or lift a finger to influence you from what you regard as your duty. If your assumption were true, why, I would be with Belle, doing all thatlies within my humble power to comfort her. "

She leaned toward me impulsively, her face all at once bright andanimated. 

"Mr. Swift, " she began, and stopped amid sudden confusion. 

"Tell me, Miss Cooper, " I encouraged her. 

"Oh, I can't--I should not, " she said, blushing. 

Her blushes signified a deal to me, for I harbored an idea that she wasnot given to betraying her feelings so vividly. I was curious. 

"The first impulse was the best, I 'm sure, " I urged. 

"It was merely a flitting thought, " she responded, her repose stillshaken; "it was purely out of absent-mindedness that I came so near tovoicing it. It was nothing, believe me. There--it is gone!"

"Which is to be deplored, " I soberly returned. "I attach considerableimportance to your thoughts. Besides, you opened this conversation withan assurance of frankness. Perhaps--so far--I have n't been as frank asI might; but it's simply because I have not yet found words to tell youall you want to know. "

At once she stripped the occasion of its seriousness. 

"Dear me!" she laughed, "you are a diplomat, too; how alluringly youpersuade one to talk! Very well. If the impertinence of my poor littleidea will not drive you to changing your opinion, I will put it intowords. "

I waited. 

"I wondered, " she continued shyly, "supposing I knew every detail of thiscrime that you know--if I could aid you any. Only in this one particularcase, " she made haste to add, "because it means so much to me. "

My pulses leaped. The idea of having this lovely girl as a coadjutor, togive her sharp wits free play with the harassing minutiae which had notonly arisen but were bound to continue to arise as I went deeper into themystery, was one that filled me with joy. 

After all, doubtless I had been unnecessarily considerate of herfeelings. Miss Cooper was a gentlewoman, to be sure; but it did notinevitably follow that she was too sensitive to harken to a distastefultopic. I know that my features must have reflected my feelings at thismoment, for the color began to grow deeper and deeper in her pretty face, and at last she sprang nervously to her feet. 

"It was only a silly impulse, " she deplored, in a flustered rejection ofthe scheme; "it was very stupid of me to express it. Pray forget it. . .. I--I must go. " She darted an uncomfortable glance toward the door. 

I did not stir. She was so lovely in her discomposure, so inexpressiblywinning, that I sat there with my heart throbbing as it had neverthrobbed before. 

Make her my confidante? Every nerve of my body thrilled at the thought. And the incentive that had prompted the proposal left it shorn of allforwardness or presumption. I appreciated the cause of her agitation;and at last, with an effort, I hid my own emotions behind an appearanceof calmness. 

"Please sit down again, " I entreated. "It is a bargain. "

She stood irresolute, poised for flight, yet constrained by a desire toreturn again to the settle. Her color was still high, her eyes weresparkling, she was breathing fast. 

"You would be an invaluable aid, " I said simply. "The idea, instead ofbeing impertinent, gratifies me more than I can express; I 'm sometimesvery blind, Miss Cooper. And think: you may be the instrument of freeingMr. Maillot from all suspicion or blame. "

Slowly, her eyes shining, she resumed her seat. It was manifest that myregarding the matter so favorably pleased her immensely--doubtlessbecause the potentialities appealed strongly to her curiosity andimagination, aside from any faith she might have entertained in herability really to assist me. She was collected once more, but alive withenthusiasm. 

"Such an alliance, " I went on, "will entail many demands upon your time;from now on I shall make no move that we have not threshed out together. "

"How lovely!" she murmured, joyfully. "And you will always find meready. "

And then I told her everything there was to tell. I recounted everyincident that had befallen me since coming to the house, every fragmentof possible evidence that my search had brought to light; to all of whichshe listened with the closest attention, interrupting only occasionallyto elicit more comprehensive information. Verily, how I had misjudgedher!

Next I strove to prepare her against the inquest. "It will try yourstrength to the utmost, " said I. "What with Mr. Maillot's injured eye, coupled with the struggle preceding the fight and Burke's inability tohave delivered the death-blow himself, you must anticipate the worst. "

"Royal may have to go to jail?" she interrupted, in a troubled voice. 

"It's not unlikely. If the coroner's jury fastens the crime upon him, the coroner will have no alternative except to hold him for the grandjury. If we could show that a third person was in the house last night, it would help him tremendously. 

"But bear in mind, Miss Cooper, " I strove earnestly to allay her fears, "that the inquest will be merely a preliminary hearing, of no consequencefurther than the extent to which it will excite comment and influencepublic opinion; that's the worst feature of it for an innocent man. Whatever we may succeed in accomplishing will in all probability comeafter the inquest. "

Last of all, I produced the small leather jewel-case, and thevisiting-card I had found lying before the concealed safe. She examinedthe card first, reading aloud the inscription thereon:

"'I pray that you be showered with all the blessings of the season. Withlove'--"

Her face went suddenly white. The hand holding the card dropped to herlap. She sat bolt upright, and directed at me a look of surprisedbewilderment. 

"Clara!" she gasped. "Why, that's--"

We both started and looked at the front door. 

"Listen!" Miss Cooper whispered. 

Light, stealthy footsteps sounded upon the porch. Next instant the knobwas being slowly turned by a cautious hand. 

CHAPTER XII

THE CIPHER

We sat rigid and breathless, with our eyes glued to the slowlyrevolving door-knob. At last a faint click announced that the latchwas released. Then the door opened a few inches, to reveal the slenderfigure of Alexander Burke. 

[Illustration: The door opened a few inches, to reveal the figure ofAlexander Burke]

Manifestly he was ignorant of our presence. Neither I nor Miss Cooperstirred, and Burke was for the time being blinded by having come soabruptly from the snow glare into the comparative dimness of the hall. 

I regretted that we were not in a position to follow his movementsunobserved, for of course he must be attracted to us the instant eitherof us stirred. I was exceedingly curious to learn what had brought himback to his employer's house. 

And now he did a singular thing. His hand was still on the knob, andonly his head and the upper part of his body projected through thedoorway. His attitude was that of a strained listener; and had I notbeen there to testify to the contrary, one might have sworn that hereceived a warning not to enter. The silence, however, remainedabsolutely unbroken. 

All at once a shudder convulsed his frame. He slowly withdrew hishead, as if fearful of disturbing the house's lifeless occupant. Nexthe deliberately closed the door, without entering at all. 

Miss Cooper turned to me in blank amazement, and for a moment I confessthat I was nonplussed myself by such singular conduct. But in a secondI comprehended: the fellow was afraid. 

I laughed quietly, and explained to my companion:

"He expected to find the house thronged with people, and theundisturbed stillness dismayed him. . . . Careful! He's still on theporch, hesitating between desire to enter and fear to make the attempt. Slip quietly into the library; I mean to find out what he 's after, ifI can. He does n't need to know of your being here. "

She colored, and nodded in comprehension, and at once tripped acrossthe hall, carrying with her the card and jewel-box. 

"Mind, I shall be close at hand, " I whispered after her; which sheacknowledged, before the door hid her from me, with one of her bright, friendly smiles. 

I then went and threw the front door wide open. Burke jumped as if Ihad unexpectedly fired a shot at him. 

"Come in, " said I, dryly. 

He stared unblinkingly at me for a moment, but during that moment herecovered his equanimity, and became again his customary inscrutableself. It would perhaps be too much to say that the color returned tohis face, for it was colorless at all times. However, I knew that foronce I had caught the man off his guard. 

I surveyed him with derisive contempt. 

"I didn't expect to find you here, " he said at length. 

"And all whom you did expect to find have gone, " returned I. "Butthat's no reason why we should stand holding the door open and fillingthe house with cold. Come in. "

"I don't understand you, " said he, hesitating a second longer; "I waslooking for no one. "

I glanced out for some sign of Stodger, but saw nothing of him. Then Iclosed the door and placed my back against it. 

"Perhaps no one in particular, " I observed. "Neither did youanticipate encountering such a forbiddingly empty house. Look here, Burke, what _did_ you come back for?"

His eyes might have been actually sightless, his pallid features alifeless mask, for all the expression they conveyed; there wasabsolutely no facial sign by which I could even determine whether Icommanded his attention; but his hands were never quiet, the slender, nervous fingers twitched unceasingly. 

Was his mind occupied by the crack in the library door? For an instantI imagined that he detected Miss Cooper's presence, and my lookhardened with a sudden gust of anger; but he immediately answered myquestion. 

"I came for the papers I brought here last evening; they should bereturned to the file-case. "

"Is Mr. Page wanting them?" I inquired ironically. 

"It's not a joking matter, Mr. Swift; it would be decidedly awkward forme to have them misplaced. "

"Then I can set your mind at ease: I gave them to Mr. UlyssesWhite"--naming Mr. Page's lawyer. 

Burke elevated the blank expanse where his eyebrows should have been. 

"Don't you think, " said he, in a tone of hurt surprise, "that you mightproperly have consulted me before making any disposition of them? Ifeel, in a way, responsible for all the business affairs which Mr. Pageordinarily entrusted to me. "

"I daresay I might have done so, " returned I, indifferently, "if youhad been present when I handed them to Mr. White. Don't you regardthem as being safe with him?"

"To be sure--they could n't be in safer hands. But it is theimplication that I no longer command or deserve the confidence--"

"Pooh!" I unceremoniously cut in. "Burke, if I were you, I 'd be alittle careful how I emphasized an attitude of innocence toward thisaffair. There 's no implication or innuendo about; I 'm only toowilling to tell you frankly that I am something more than suspicious ofyou. I _know_ that you have n't told everything you might about thismurder. You 're lucky that I have n't run you in before this. Is thatplain enough?"

He recoiled a step, with a queer, hissing intake of breath. 

"Swift, " he muttered, "I have half a mind to make you prove your words. "

"Do, " said I, grimly. "I would like nothing better. "

He stared at me so long that it gave me an uncanny feeling. I brokethe silence with a blunt demand. 

"Burke, where 's that ruby?"

"Don't try to browbeat me, " he said through his teeth. "Pleaseunderstand that you are not dealing with a criminal, and I don'tpropose to be bulldozed by any fat-witted sleuths. "

I laughed in his face. 

"Maybe it will interest you to know that I have wit enough to contrastyour secretive manner with Maillot's willingness to talk, and to drawthe one consistent inference therefrom. "

There is a nervous affliction of the eyes, called by pathologistsnystagmus, which is characterized by a perpetual weaving to and fro ofthe eyeballs; it is impossible for the unfortunate victim to fix hislook upon a given point without the greatest effort. When theattention of such a one is not centred the swaying of his eyes goes onincessantly. 

So it was now with Burke's pale orbs and his lean death's head. Heseemed to be searching, forever feverishly searching, for somethingthat he could not find. There was something positively repulsive aboutthe man in this new guise, although the change was so subtle that I wasunable to define it. At last he spoke. 

"Swift, " he said, scarcely above a whisper, "I 'm a peaceable man;nevertheless I resent your aspersions. I can't do it openly in thecircumstances; this murder ties my hands; but--damn you!" he suddenlyspat at me, "if my silence would hang Royal Maillot, I 'd bite mytongue out before I 'd ever utter another word. There you have it. "

I stared at him in astonishment. Was it possible that thiscold-blooded creature could harbor an emotion as fiery as hatred?

"What have you against Maillot?" I sternly asked, after a pause. 

His bloodless upper lip, thin and flexible, curled in a smile; therewas a momentary flash of his teeth. 

"You 're a detective, " he said; "find out. "

I pondered, still regarding him. 

"So, " said I at last, "it's to be warfare between you and me, is it?Very well. Take care, Burke, for I do mean to find out. And I promiseyou that when I do you 'll get all you have coming to you. "

He knew that I was more or less at sea; he had divined that in my ownmind I had already cleared him of the actual murder. 

"Thank you, " he now had the impudence to say suavely. "Forewarned isforearmed, you know. "

"You get out of here, Burke, " I said, without heat, eying him steadily. 

"Do you mean, " he asked quickly, "that I 'm not to have an opportunityto ascertain whether I left any of my possessions here?" I fanciedthat he was disconcerted. 

"I mean that I have n't any time to waste on you, " I replied, evenly. "I 'm busy now; but I 'll take care of you when the time comes. If youwant to go to any other part of the house, be quick about it. "

Again his voice dropped. 

"You intend to go with me--I see. I 'm not to be trusted. I 'llsubmit to no such indignity. "

"Just as you choose. "

He moved over to the door. There was no use questioning him further, because all his defences were up. But I watched him steadily--as Iwould have watched any other dangerous animal that I was not at libertyto crush. 

At the door he paused and looked back; for the briefest instant hisrestless glance lingered upon an indefinable point up the stair-well. So thereabouts lay the centre of interest, did it?

The door was open; he turned again to me. 

"I'll go, " he said, "and--"

"And you need not come back, " I broke in curtly. "This house will notbe unguarded for one second until the ruby is found. "

I felt, rather than saw, that the blank eyes flashed venomously. 

"You devil!" he hissed, slipping hastily through the narrowaperture--"you devil!"

Next instant he was gone. And I drew a great breath of relief. 

When I turned round Miss Cooper was advancing from the library, hereyes bright with suppressed excitement. 

"What a horrid creature!" exclaimed she. "I heard all, Mr. Swift; nowonder Uncle Alfred despises the man. "

I looked sharply at her: what earthly reason should Alfred Fluette havefor despising Felix Page's private secretary? But of this later. If Iwas not much mistaken, Miss Cooper held in her hand the cause of herpresent pleased agitation. 

"What have you discovered?"

"This. " She handed me a small slip of paper. "I found it inside thelining of the little leather box. "

"A cipher!" I cried, sharing some of her excitement. 

The bit of paper, perhaps three inches long by an inch wide, was ofalmost parchment-like fineness and bore a number of peculiar characterswritten in black ink. At the first glance it suggested a safecombination; but after a minute's intent examination, during which thegirl could scarcely restrain her eager impatience, I was obliged toforego that idea. 

"Good for you!" was my admiring tribute. The color heightened in hercheeks. "I wonder, now, since you were keen enough to find it, whetheryou can make anything of it? Honestly--do you know--when I examinedthat box I never thought to look under the lining. "

With her head on one side, she stared regretfully at the bit of paper. 

"It's Greek to me, " she said. 

"To me, too. I 'd give a good deal to know what those hieroglyphsmean. "

She clapped her hands with sudden delight. 

"My!" she exclaimed, "it's just like a story! Isn't this what you calla cryptograph? It tells where a hidden treasure is, does it not?"

Glancing at her beautiful, animated countenance, I answered truthfully, "Yes"; but added, "It at least points me to a treasure that isunattainable. "

For an instant she was puzzled, then she bent suddenly over the cipherand asked no more questions. 

We had gone in to the big library table, where, with heads pleasantlyclose together, we studied in silence the seemingly meaninglesscharacters. But after some minutes devoted to this exercise, we wereconstrained to give it up as hopeless. This is what the paper bore:

[Illustration: Cipher]

"I 'm afraid I shall prove to be a very indifferent assistant, " shelamented, with a rueful little laugh. "I did n't deserve yourcommendation even for finding the cipher, because, while I wasexamining the box I was too intent on listening to you and thatdreadful Burke creature to heed what I was doing. I felt the papercrackle, and then saw a corner of it through one of the rents in thefaded blue satin. "

"Never mind now. Maybe we shall understand it later. Some ciphers, you know, are to be read only in connection with something else; Ithink this is such a one. Let's put it away and take up something thatI know you can help me with. 

"That faded card"--I pointed to it lying upon the table, and noted thather face instantly grew grave--"why did you start so when you firstlooked at it--just as we heard Burke on the porch?"

She regarded me steadily. 

"Mr. Swift, that is my aunt's handwriting--her name. "

"Do you mean Mrs. Fluette?" I was in truth unprepared for this bluntannouncement. 

"Yes, " she replied simply. 

I believe the first effect of this disclosure was no more than anuneasy, apprehensive feeling; but in a flash the possibilities entailedbegan to occur to me, and I was left groping for words. 

During the silence that followed I vainly tried to arrange my thoughts;the color slowly faded from Miss Cooper's face, and by and by sheaverted it from mine. I knew that our minds were working in parallelcurrents; I knew without looking at her that she was anxious andtrembling. 

At last I secured a grip upon myself, and I addressed her with decision. 

"You believe I will do what is right, do you not?"

"Yes, " she murmured, without looking up. 

"Then I fear that our pact is to be short-lived, after all. Thiscursed tragedy is twining its tentacles nearer home than either of usdreamt of. "

What, in the bitterness of my own reflections, was I allowing myself tosay! I silently cursed myself for a blundering fool. The girl's grayface, the pinched look of it, frightened me. I started from my chair. 

"Miss Cooper!"

For her head had dropped forward upon one curved arm, and she wasshaken by a storm of tears. 

CHAPTER XIII

DISCLOSURES

After some minutes of miserable waiting on my part, the storm spentitself; she sat upright again, dried her eyes upon a bit ofhandkerchief, and spoke--quite calmly, but terribly in earnest. 

"Mr. Swift, I know what your inference is--that Uncle Alfred must be insome way involved--but you don't know all the significance of the flashof understanding that so overwhelmed me. The idea that there couldever have been a love affair between Aunt Clara and Mr. Page isastounding enough"--she glanced at the card--"eighteen fifty-seven:why, she was only a mere slip of a girl then; much younger than I amnow!"

It was patent that the revelation had startled and thrilled her;however, there was a more insistent, underlying trouble struggling forexpression. 

"But--Mr. Swift--do you think that this wheat deal has hurt UncleAlfred financially?"

Poor child! One could not smile at the simplicity of such a question. I now thought I knew the foundation of this new fear that was grippingat her heart. But I didn't--not entirely; there was another surprisein store for me. 

"It is very likely, " I soberly made answer. 

For all I knew to the contrary, his entire fortune might have beenwiped out in the crash; he might have been beggared, stripped utterly;although, since he had not engineered the corner single-handed, hewould be obliged to meet only his proportion of the total loss, whatever that might be. An outsider might only guess. 

"It is not charitable to think or speak ill of the dead, " she wassaying, "but, oh! what a cruel, pitiless man Mr. Page was. Think ofthe long years of persecution Uncle Alfred has had to endure. "

But I was regarding the matter from quite a different point of view. Iwas thinking rather of that broken wheat corner as the culminatingstroke of an implacable enemy; of the probability that the rifled safecontained more love-tokens similar to the card--so many more, in fact, that the thief did not miss the one he had lost. I was thinking thatthe warfare between the two men had its inception much farther back inthe past than anybody had ever imagined, and that it was no longerstrange why Page had wrested the ruby from his rival. One mustconsider Fluette's passion for collecting rare gems to appreciate tothe full the consummate malice of that coup. 

This disturbed pondering, however, carried me round in a circle. Ifthere had been love-tokens in the safe from Clara Cooper, AlfredFluette was the only man living who would have any interest in gettingthem from Page. Again, if Page's hatred of Fluette was so intense thathe would part with a fortune merely to deprive his rival of a covetedjewel, would he give this same jewel to a nephew for whom heentertained no liking, knowing that the jewel was destined for hisenemy, simply upon that nephew's demand? Why, the bare grouping of thefacts discredited Maillot's story; he was left in a worse plight thanbefore. 

I trust it is at least clear how heterogeneous were the elements ofthis crime. 

And then--to start swinging round the circle once more--if AlfredFluette was entirely blameless of Felix Page's murder, the tragedycould not have occurred at a more unfortunate time for him. Considering all the circumstances, it would be no great strain upon thecredulity to picture Fluette, driven to desperation, ridding himself ofthe foe that had hounded him to ruin. 

There was nothing else for me to do except follow all these avenues tothe end; but whichever was the right one, that end must be bitter. Imet the piteous look in Genevieve Cooper's eyes, and my heart sank. 

I have often been told that when I want it to be my countenance isillegible; assuredly, at this moment it was not my desire that sheshould glimpse the tumult of thought and emotion to which I was a prey;but I have reasons, numberless as the sands of the sea, for knowingthat it never was indecipherable to the bright blue eyes now searchingit so earnestly. 

All at once Miss Cooper was on her feet, the shadow of a great dreaddarkening her countenance; her voice trembled like the voice of alittle child that is afraid. Her next words supplied more definiteknowledge respecting her uncle's financial condition. 

"I told you that both my parents died when I was an infant, Mr. Swift;they did not leave me entirely penniless. Uncle Alfred is the guardianof my estate--my personal guardian, too--and he--my God, I can't sayit!"

"Perhaps, " said I, gently, "I can surmise what you can't bring yourselfto put into words: is it that he may be unable to strictly account forhis trust?"

She winced at the question, and sank back into her chair. 

"No--that's not it--not exactly, " she said, With manifest effort. "Butit is almost as bad. 

"I was of age the fifth of last month--December--and on that day UncleAlfred came to me in great distress. He told me that he was expectingany day--almost any hour--that a demand would be made upon him for anenormous sum of money; a demand that he would have to meet promptly orgo down in utter ruin. He told me that his own affairs were in suchshape that he could n't raise near the amount of the demand, and thathe would be obliged to eke it out with my patrimony. 

"I don't know whether or not the demand has ever been made; I don'tknow whether or not he has used any of my fortune--it isn't much; buthe is welcome to every penny of it, for he has always been good andkind and generous. I have never asked him for an accounting, nor hashe volunteered one. I simply don't know what to think. If he is insuch desperate straits it is inevitable that his name will be linkedwith this crime. Poor Belle! Poor Aunt Clara!"

I could not dispute the reasonableness of her conclusion; her own mindhad already linked the man with the crime. But what was the nature ofthe demand he was expecting? Her disclosure was mystifying. It wasnot probable that he had anticipated failure for his Board of Tradeoperations at such an early date. 

"It was a foolish step, my coming here to see you, " Miss Coopercomplained heartbrokenly; "it places me in a bitterly cruel position. Knowing what I do now, if I remain silent I may be to blame for Bellesuffering through Royal's unjust accusation; if I speak I will betreacherous to the very hearth that has fostered me. "

I am glad that my chief's cold, unfeeling eye did not rest upon me atthat moment. Her distress was mine. And I could not turn aside fromthe way which was opening so plainly before me. 

Here, now, I had two motives for the murder: Fluette's mad desire forthe ruby and, since the ashes of old romance had been so ruthlesslystirred, the most powerful of all human motives--jealousy. 

It was possible, too, that a third person had been in the house lastnight; but if so, one of the two men had lied. The bit of candle foundby me on the rear stairs had adhered to somebody's shoe while stillplastic; if either Burke or Maillot had used these stairs at or aboutthe time of the murder, then both had studiously kept the fact from me. It was possible that one of the two could have made fast the front doorbehind a fugitive, without the other's knowledge; Burke, for example, before he summoned Maillot. 

But my chief concern now was for this sorely distressed girl. She hadtold but the bare truth; her position could scarcely be more cruel. Her eyes followed me with an expression of such tragic helplessnessthat I knew the issue was left for me to decide. I sprang up andcommenced walking the floor. It was a long time before I could make upmy mind just what to say, and during my troubled cogitation there wasnot an interruption, not a sound, from her. 

By and by I paused, and stood looking down into the wistful face. 

"Miss Cooper, " I began, "it seems that you trust me, and, believe me, I'm keenly sensible of the responsibility. I shall ask nothing of youwhich I think you can't freely perform; nothing that is not for thebest interests of all concerned--all for whom you care, I mean. "

She interrupted me. 

"Sit down--here where you were before; it will not seem so much likeyour talking to me from a distance. "

I obeyed. The chairs were quite close together. 

"It seems to me, " I went on, "that we should continue in the directionthat has been pointed out for us; follow the light, however dim. Thereis a mystery here, and we are just now only skimming the surface of it;let's plunge below and see if we can't bring up at least a part of thetruth. 

"It is hard to believe that Alfred Fluette has been instrumental inFelix Page's death, even indirectly, but harder, more unjust to him, topause without dissipating the cloud we have unexpectedly cast over him. The temptation to scrutinize his conduct and bearing is irresistible. Is it not better to lay bare all the facts, than to leave matters inthe equivocal condition they now are?"

"You mean, " she murmured brokenly, "you mean that--now--after what hashappened between us--the duty of pressing forward at whatever cost isfar more imperative than any other obligation that I may be under; thatthe innocent must not be sacrificed to shield the guilty. "

That was precisely what I meant, but I lacked the courage to tell her. 

"My dear Miss Cooper!" I said, in a voice as tremulous with emotion asher own. 

"I trust you, " she said simply. 

I knew not what to say; her faith in me was manifestly so boundlessthat I was humbled to the earth. And yesterday we were ignorant ofeach other's very existence! Stressful circumstance can level theconventions with amazing swiftness. 

"You are trembling, " she whispered presently. "I am making what wouldbe a commonplace matter very difficult for you. "

"No--no!" I protested. "I feel for you; I can't tell you how much. "

"Don't think of me, " she again whispered, her look averted. 

"I can think of nothing else, " said I. My teeth suddenly clenched, andI bent toward her. 

"I'll not allow this thing!" I undertoned in a savage outburst, recognizing the futility of my anger even as I spoke. "I shall notallow you to become further involved in this thing. Whatever the cost, _I_ shall shield _you_. "

A pitiful smile stirred her lips. 

"You have shown me my duty, " she said, with gentle firmness; "you can'tdissuade me now. "

What do words avail at such a time? I loved this splendid girl, and myheart ached for her. I was almost swept from my balance by a suddenmad yearning to take her in my arms and try to comfort her. 

Yes, I loved her; there is no use in holding back the confession; elsewhere would be my great personal interest and concern in the death ofFelix Page?

Yet I did not protest further; remonstrance would avail me nothing. Gently as she had spoken, it was driven home to me that she hadexpressed a determination which no power in heaven or on the earthbelow could change. 

Another long silence followed, during which I as well as she wasstirred by the most conflicting emotions. At last, though, I too beganto see my way clear. Matters could not be helped any by either of usshirking the least part of a responsibility which had, within the lastfew minutes, become sweetly mutual. Haw anxious I was to spare her!

The silence was broken by Genevieve abruptly rising. 

"I must really go, " she announced, hurriedly. She was the least bitflurried, and there was a wonderful soft light in the handsome eyesthat had not been there when she came. As she passed me she lightlybrushed my shoulder with the gloved tips of one hand. 

"I am no longer cast-down, " I heard her murmur; "I know you willdo--what is right. "

I caught the fingers, detaining her. 

"Don't go--not yet. "

She lingered, expectant and more cheerful. 

"I can't let you go like this"--I was steady enough now. She movedagain to the chair she had just vacated, and I released the slim, softfingers. 

"There is one thing we haven't considered, " I pursued, "and that is Mr. Alexander Burke. You say Mr. Fluette despises him: if he does, it isnot without warrant, I 'd be willing to swear. What that fellow's gameis I can't just at this time conceive, but I 'm confident that he 'splaying one of some kind--a deep one, too. If he is, thepotentialities are endless with such a cunning, unscrupulous rascal. 

"I 'm satisfied, moreover, that he has lied to me. According to hisstatement, no one was in this house last night besides himself, Mr. Page, and Royal Maillot. Between him and Maillot I give the latter thepreference, for, if the stories of both are true on any one point, itis that Burke was up and about before and during the time the murderwas committed. Burke is consequently in the best position to know whowas or was not in the house. 

"Now I have a particular reason for thinking that this is one phase ofthe matter about which he has lied. Should it be that some one elsewas here--some one that we know nothing about--why, that would put anentirely different complexion upon the affair. "

"Suppose, " she propounded evenly, "that it was Uncle Alfred?"

I looked at her earnestly. 

"You don't know that he was here, " was my sober comment. 

"No. "

"Well, then, what's the use of borrowing trouble?"

"It's very silly--especially as I have trouble enough as it is. "

With an impulsive movement, she thrust one little gloved hand into mine. 

"I am still your assistant, " she affirmed, striving hard to be gay, "ifyou will have me now. Together we will drive the trouble away. "

I caught the other hand, and held the two of them together. Shepermitted the caress for a moment--for caress it was--then drew herhands away. 

"Good-bye, " she said faintly, without looking up. 

But I got my hat and coat and walked down to the gate with her. Of asudden, after we reached the walk, she moved a pace or two away from meand halted. Her pretty face dimpled in a smile, and there was a gleamof mischief in the blue eyes. One can't be always melancholy. 

"I suppose I 'm a big goose, " she said, "to have any faith in you; I 'mthinking it's a case of misplaced confidence. "

She waved a hand, gathered her skirts closely about her slender figureand tripped away through the snow. 

I could not realize any portion of the past when she had not been nearand dear to me. 

CHAPTER XIV

RIDDLES

I returned to the library and heaped the fireplace with coal. For anhour after Genevieve's departure I was utterly unable to concentrate mymind upon any congeries of fact that might be of the least possible usein unravelling the badly tangled skein presented by Felix Page's death;I could see nothing but the fine blue eyes clouded with trouble, andthe sweet face under the shadow of her gnawing anxiety. 

I fished up the cipher, flattened it upon the library table, and strovemanfully to hold my vagrant attention to the task of interpreting itssecret message. My thoughts straightway wandered back to Genevieveagain. 

Now that I was alone, it was inevitable that I should sum up theresults of our conference. I did not blink the truth; the facts wereplain, not susceptible of argument. 

No matter what the future might have in store for Genevieve and me, whether it was replete with delicious promise, or whether the uselessiron gate marked the parting of our ways, her intrusion must everremain a cherished memory. But it would have been better for her peaceof mind not to have sought me out. If she had not, she would haveremained ignorant of the circumstance that she possessed any knowledgehurtful to her uncle; if she had remained away, the accusation that hehad come to harm through her could never reproach her in after years. 

Her errand had been impelled by a conviction that I would appreciateher more intimate knowledge of her cousin's lover. She knew that shecould lay before me no tangible testimony in his behalf, but hoped thatI could be made to sympathize with her estimate of his character. 

During her first visit to the house, with Belle, she had clearlyrecognized the seriousness of the young man's predicament, and that Iwould be governed only by the facts as I read them. Notwithstanding hewas somewhat fiery and headstrong, if she could influence me to seethat he was honest, sincere and straightforward, she felt hopeful thatI would continue my investigation with a strong leaning in his favor. 

 _Was ever a cipher so empty of all meaning!_ _What addle-pate had conceived it? Why should_ _he want to perpetrate anything so idiotic?_

By her simplicity and singleness of purpose, however, she hadinnocently drawn my attention to her uncle; then, in a measure, she hadverified my awakened suspicions. While Maillot and Felix Page were inthe library, engrossed in their own affairs, could Alfred Fluette havebeen in the house?

Highly improbable as such a contingency might appear, still it was byno means impossible. "Suppose, " Genevieve had asked me, "that it wasUncle Alfred?" Never, unless she herself had some reason to doubt andmistrust, would she have propounded that question. Had he been absentfrom home until an unwontedly late hour last night? Was his manner inthe morning of a nature to draw attention to himself, so that, in thelight of later developments, it had provoked her suspicions? I hadpurposely refrained from asking her any questions touching upon thispossibility. 

In a flash the image of Genevieve Cooper swam out of my thoughts. Mywhole attention became glued to the cipher. At each end of the tworows of numerals and arrows was a peculiar crenellated design; it hadstruck me with a sudden sense of familiarity. Where had I ever seenanything similar or identical, that this odd symbol should penetrateinto the midst of my absorption and force me unwittingly to try torecall the circumstance? Quite recently, I was sure--to-day--in thisvery house. My glance skirted the spacious library, darting from oneobject to another, but encountered nothing at all that in any wayresembled it. Here was a subliminal reminder which my perception wasdull to read. 

[Illustration: Cipher]

Filled with the idea, I thrust the strip of parchment like paper backinto my pocketbook, and started eagerly upon another tour of the entireestablishment. I paused in one room after another, examined eacharticle in turn, but ended not a whit wiser than when I began. 

Yet my belief in the correctness of the veiled mental impulse remainedunshaken. The design was a facsimile of some object in this house;something my eyes had rested upon, albeit without the existence at thetime of any occasion to fix it upon my mind; but conjure my brain as Iwould, I could not recall where or when. 

When Stodger returned, I determined at last, I would set him at worksearching for the odd symbol, or whatever it might be. When I madethis resolve I was standing beside the old walnut table at the head ofMr. Page's bed; with a forefinger I idly traced the design in the duston the artificial leather cover, beside the impress made by thejewel-box. 

My preoccupation was broken in upon by the arrival of the undertaker'smen. It would not do--if the ruby was really beneath this roof--togrant any strangers unrestricted privileges of the house; at least notwithout keeping a heedful eye upon their movements. Alexander Burke, Ishrewdly suspected, was equal to any subterfuge or ruse to obtain thejewel, and I did not mean to be caught napping. 

No small responsibility is involved in safeguarding $500, 000--theamount Maillot declared his uncle had paid for the ruby--particularlywhen the guardian himself does not know precisely where the treasurelies. It would not do to take any chances. Otherwise, if the amounthad been materially less, or had been in a form not so easily disposedof about the person or by thrusting it into a convenient cranny, or, perhaps, even tossing it unseen through a window to a waitingconfederate on the outside, my wisest course might have been to permitBurke, or whoever knew where the jewel was, to lead me to itshiding-place. But I must be vigilant, always alert; there would belittle sleep for me until I had this extraordinary gem safe in my hands. 

So I remained with the undertaker's men until they departed with thebody. 

As I turned to reënter the house Stodger's portly form hove into view. He dropped into one of the library's big easy-chairs. 

"Whew!" he gasped. "I'm a peach of a shadow, ain't I? Nice work forone of my build. Say! That fellow Burke--Alexander Stilwell--he 'sthe--you know--most restless party I ever saw. If Fanshawe had n'trelieved me when he did I 'd be worked down to about middle-weight bythis time. "

"Anything particular?" I inquired. 

"Er--no. You know he came back here. Rest o' the time he spentdodging in and out of old Page's offices at the Drovers' National. Walk like a house afire for--m'm-m--maybe a block; next time maybe sixblocks. "

"Well?"

"Then he 'd--ah--he 'd turn round and walk back again. "

"Not very interesting for you. But we know one thing for certain: he's uneasy. I have a far lighter task for you, though, than followingthe erratic movements of Mr. Alexander Burke. "

And then I recounted for his benefit all that I knew respecting theruby, declared my belief that it lay somewhere in the house, and, finally, outlined my plans for the immediate future. 

"We 'll divide the vigil between us, Stodger; you and I shall campright here until that costly bauble comes to light. We 'll have tokeep our eyes open and our wits about us, too; I wouldn't be surprisedat some tricky attempt to recover it at any time--especially duringdarkness. "

After showing him the cipher and requesting that he be observant tofind the counterpart of the two peculiar designs, I left him in chargeof the house. Next I arranged that our meals be brought to us, afterwhich I returned to town and held a long conference with my chief. This proved to be eminently satisfactory, inasmuch as he left the Pageaffair entirely in my hands. 

Although I hoped that some new development would require anotherinterview with Miss Cooper, absolutely nothing transpired until thenext morning. During the rest of Wednesday afternoon--perhaps I forgotto mention that the murder was committed at about midnight Tuesday--anduntil late Wednesday night, Stodger and I prosecuted a diligent andsystematic search for the ruby, the original of the design on thecipher, and for anything else that might bear upon the crime, but foundnothing to reward our efforts. At a late hour we knocked off andsought the library's easy-chairs. After a while Stodger asked me forthe cipher. When I dropped off to sleep he was industriously diggingaway at it, with many gasps and inarticulate exclamations. 

Concerning the cipher, it is perhaps well to mention that I applied itto the door of the hidden safe on the chance that the opposed arrowsindicated the different movements of the dial; but I discovered thecombination to be much simpler. In fact, there were not sufficienttumblers in the dial to allow for so complicated a combination at all. 

There remained the possibility that the numerals belonged to some othersafe, though I did not think so: those two odd crenellated figurescould have nothing in common with any permutation-lock. I had seenthem; they were tantalizingly familiar; but where? And what meaningdid those two figure "10's" bear? Here was a riddle for Oedipus. 

The next morning--Thursday--Dr. De Breen conducted the inquest in thelibrary. I mention this hearing solely because of a number ofcircumstances which occurred during the proceedings--although unrelatedto them--and which have a bearing upon the story. As for the testimonyitself, it was about as satisfactory as in most instances where littlerespecting the crime is definitely known. 

Stodger and I had the burden of additional watchfulness imposed uponus; a number of people would be brought upon the scene, and each of ushad to be present at some time during the hearing without leaving thehouse unguarded for a second. 

"Looky here, Swift, " Dr. De Breen buttonholed me, grabbing at hisglasses, "what's in this case, anyhow? Have you got the man? 'T isn'ta woman, is it?" He cocked his head on one side, and favored me with asquinting regard. 

"No, I have n't, " I emphatically returned. "And what's more, I don'tthink you 're going to hit upon him to-day. It is n't a woman, either. "

"Don't say! But what have you?"

I displayed the cipher, at which he scowled ferociously for a second. 

"It's a combination, " he announced decisively; "bet the cigars it's acombination--or direction of some sort. "

"Sure thing. Perhaps, too, you 'll tell me where I can try it out. "

Holding his glasses with one hand, he stared through them at the bit ofpaper. 

"What are those fluted affairs at each end with figure '10's' in 'em?"

I shook my head. "You can search me. I thought you might tell mesomething; I can ask more questions about it myself right now than Ican answer. "

But I added my conviction that they were facsimiles of some detail ofornamentation I had seen in the house. I also told him where thecipher had been discovered--but not who had discovered it--and, inshort, gave him a summary of the entire case. Before I was through hewas grinning at me in a very superior and knowing way. 

"Nice, bright sleuth, you, " commented he, mockingly; "can't you seethrough a grindstone when there's a hole in it? Now looky here, Swift:old Page kept the replica in the box as a blind; this cryptogram tellswhere the real ruby is. "

I shrugged my shoulders; the idea was by no means novel. But it didnot make matters any clearer. 

"It must have been the ruby which he showed Maillot, " I insisted. "That young man may not be much of a gem expert, but I don't think anymere paste imitation of a ruby would have inspired him to such a flightof vivid description as he indulged in when he talked with me yesterdaymorning. Guess again. "

He jammed his glasses down combatively astride his hawk-like nose, andsquared his shoulders. 

"I won't guess at all. Looky here: old Page switched 'em. That's whathe did--switched 'em to show Maillot the real thing. Every time Iconverse with you, Swift, my theory about the equality of mind andmatter receives a jolt: you have more brawn than brain, old sport. "

Squinting at each newcomer, he bustled away before I had time to getback at him. I was rather touchy about my size; I could n't help beinga giant, and the little ferret of a sawbones knew it. I had only onemeans of revenge. He was a great stickler for maintaining the dignityof his profession, and I always called him "Doc. "

While De Breen was getting his jurors in line, I disposed the twopatrolmen who had accompanied him--one in the hall, to direct those whohad business here this morning straight to the library, and to allownobody, under whatever pretext, to wander to any other part of thehouse; the second was stationed just inside the library door. Stodgerwas to remain up-stairs until called for, when I would relieve himduring the brief period required for his testimony. 

Burke and Maillot arrived while I was thus engaged, and before I hadtime to enter the library the front door opened to admit a party ofthree--Miss Cooper and Miss Fluette, who were accompanied by ahandsome, dignified man with white hair and a closely trimmed beardwhich he wore parted in the middle and brushed straight back. 

Instinctively I knew this man to be Alfred Fluette. And as soon wouldI have expected the attendance of the Caliph of Bagdad. I fell towatching him narrowly. 

His features were not familiar to me, but certain details of hisappearance were so striking that I could scarcely do otherwise thanconclude that his bearing and countenance had quite recently undergonea marked change. He was a man, I imagined, who could hide his feelingswith eminent success; yet, his upstanding figure, without beingprecisely bent, expressed an idea of drooping. The lines of his facegave it a haggard expression, while his eyes wore a furtive, huntedlook at certain periods when he forgot to keep himself in hand. Allthese details taken together gave me food for sober reflection. 

With the wax impression on the iron candlestick in mind, I bent myglance to his hands--to the right hand--but he wore gloves, andmoreover, the long sleeves of his heavy overcoat came well down overhis knuckles. A stirring of the library fire might persuade him toremove his wraps later on. 

But something happened that banished everything else temporarily frommy mind. The instant he stepped across the front door-sill his eyessought the upper regions of the house--the balcony or the second storyhall. The glance was feverishly eager. He looked away again quickly;but I could not help associating this brief episode with Burke'swistful look in the same direction the afternoon before. 

CHAPTER XV

A WOMAN'S SCREAM

I turned from Alfred Fluette to encounter a sober, questioning lookfrom Genevieve. Her sweet face was pale and still troubled, and whilenothing would have pleased me better than to hasten to her side, I wasobliged--for the present only, I made mental qualification--to contentmyself with a smile and a reassuring nod. Her cousin Belle's demeanorwas haughty, even supercilious, and she quite frankly ignored everybodyexcepting her father, her cousin, and Maillot. 

Nothing occurred to retard the inquest, which I shall refer to only asis necessary to keep bound together the thread of my narrative. 

After Stodger had given his brief testimony and returned to his post inthe upper hall, I descended to the library and took a seat beside Dr. De Breen at one end of the big library table. As I did so I observedthat Mr. Fluette was taking stock of me with a keen sidewise look. Irecognized in his regard, surreptitious as it was, that quality whichis accustomed to estimating and judging the characters of othermen, --usually with unerring exactness, I fancied, --but I affected toappear unconscious of the fact that he was noticing me at all. 

Alexander Burke was the second witness. His testimony did not varyfrom his already familiar story, and after the deputy-coroner had putall the interrogations he could think of, I began to prompt theenergetic and shrewd examiner. Thenceforward the whilom secretary'sexamination proceeded as follows:

"Did Mr. Page have a revolver?"

"Yes. But it is now in my possession. More than a week ago I wasengaged with Mr. Page here until a late hour. It was necessary for meto go to his office to procure some papers; it was past eleven, and hehanded me his pistol. I forgot to return it. "

So much for the pistol. The weapon was immaterial. 

"In pursuance of your duties as Mr. Page's confidential clerk, Mr. Burke, you had occasion quite frequently to come here to the house, didyou not?"

"Not frequently--sometimes. "

"Were you familiar with his habits about the house?"

"I suppose so--yes. "

"Which rooms did Mr. Page use the oftenest?"

"This one--and his bedroom. He scarcely ever entered any of the otherrooms--seldom ascended the stairs. "

"How would you account for the door-hinges on all three doors betweenthe alcove and the bedroom having been freshly oiled?"

He did n't attempt to account for it; he merely evinced a mild surprisethat such should have been the case. So, impatiently, I requested Dr. De Breen to dismiss him. 

I was anxious to have over with the real ordeal of the day, for I knewthat I thus correctly characterized to myself Maillot's session in thewitness-chair, and, if I was not much mistaken, whatever was to followafter he was through with his remarkable story. Correct as I was in apart of my assumption, everybody present was far from being preparedfor the startling denouement. 

Maillot began his account of Tuesday night's happenings in astraightforward way, and told it at length as convincingly as such animprobable story could be told at all. His injured eye was even worsediscolored than it had been the previous day, and I--watching closelythe half-dozen honest citizens with whom lay his immediatefate--observed that they noticed and commented upon it among themselves. 

And my anticipations presently began to be realized. As the young manmade plain the purpose of his errand to Mr. Page, as he again went overall the extraordinary particulars of his uncle producing the ruby andpromising to give it to him to convey to Mr. Fluette, I saw the jurorsexchange questioning glances with one another; and then, as the enmityand ill feeling between the two men became more and more apparent, thesix faces gradually came to assume expressions of open incredulity. 

If the young lawyer remarked the effect of his testimony, which hecould scarcely help doing, the circumstance seemed not to dismay him inthe least. But the worst was yet to come: plainly, whatever doubts mayhave lingered in the minds of the jury during this stage of hisexamination, they were definitely dispelled when the witness franklyadmitted that according to the best of his belief he was Felix Page'ssole heir. 

But to me Maillot's testimony was scarcely more than a runningaccompaniment to Alfred Fluette's strange behavior. It was impossibleto interpret the seething conflict of thought and emotion which hishaggard visage hid only indifferently; he stared at the young man, fascinated; but dominating every influence, gripping his very heart andbiting like acid, I could discern the evidence of a horror which mustinevitably drive him, sooner or later, to some violent outburst. Itwas manifestly more than human nature could endure. 

Why?--I asked myself--why? Why should he be so profoundly stirred bythe experience of one against whom he entertained such a strongantipathy? And so promptly that it took me by surprise, he suppliedthe potential answer to my unspoken question. 

With a sudden movement, as if to sit longer inactive had become anunendurable torment, he stood upright, flung off his heavy overcoat andthen whipped off his gloves. 

_On the middle finger of his right hand gleamed a broad band of gold!_

I glanced at the sweet, concerned face of Genevieve Cooper. From theintentness with which she hung upon my every action and change ofexpression, I knew that she was trying to plumb the farther depths andlearn the trend of the hidden currents of this drama, which was of suchvital moment to her. I was glad that I could still offer her theencouragement of a smile. 

My attention was directed to Maillot when one of the jurors beganinterrogating him. 

"While Mr. Burke was absent, " inquired the juror, "did you see theruby?" His reference was to Burke's absence when he went to notify thepolice of the crime. 

"I did not, " was the reply. "I saw it no more after Mr. Page returnedit to the jewel-case; I never even thought of it during the time ofwhich you speak. "

"Were you near the concealed safe?"

"Yes, sir--although at the time I did n't know that the open trap-doorin the closet led to a safe. I saw that the small cavity was empty, and that was all I did observe about it. "

"When did you first learn about the safe?"

"When Burke showed it to Mr. Swift yesterday morning. "

"Why, then, in your testimony, did you say the deceased went to thesafe after the ruby for the purpose of showing it to you?"

Maillot frowned and considered a moment. 

"I did not make the assertion from knowledge of the act co-existentwith the performance of the act itself, " said Maillot at length, with agreat show of deliberation. A man can't be utterly hardened who canquiz another at such a time. "I advanced it as the most likely theoryby which to account for all of his actions during the time I waitedhere in the library, explaining the antecedent occurrence withknowledge subsequently acquired. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

The inquisitive juror stared a moment, then subsided. Dr. De Breenturned to me with a broad grin. 

"That all?" he whispered. 

I nodded. "Let the axe fall; I 'm curious to see what effect it willhave. "

Everybody's attention was abruptly diverted by Genevieve Cooper. Without a word to any one, she rose precipitately, glided noiselesslyacross the room to the alcove, and disappeared behind the curtains. Blank bewilderment brought me to my feet. What could have impelled herto this extraordinary move at such a critical stage? I started tofollow her, but at that very instant the foreman started to announcethe verdict. 

Silence fell instantly. Maillot sat plucking aimlessly at the marginof a newspaper, the tiny fragments floating unheeded to the floor;while Miss Fluette, strikingly handsome with her transparentcomplexion, her red-brown hair, and clear hazel eyes, sat imperiouslybeside him, alone in her assurance as to the outcome. 

The young man seemed to have forgotten her presence, so deep was hisabstraction. In a little while he pushed the paper to one side, andbegan feeling idly in a pocket of his vest. His mood was distrait, andin a moment he produced something that glittered; something that mademe start and rivet my attention upon him. 

The something was a broad gold ring. He toyed with it for a moment, apparently wholly absorbed. Then he slipped it upon the _middle fingerof his right hand_!

The ring seemed to fit perfectly. He turned the hand over and back anumber of times, inspecting the ornament from different angles ofvision. After which, seemingly satisfied with his critical survey, heremoved it from the finger and returned it to his pocket. 

I studied the young man in perplexity. Here I had two rings on twodifferent right hands: what was I to conclude from--

But events were moving swiftly, almost to the verge of confusion. 

"We, the jury, " read the foreman, with the tremulous, irresolute air ofa man unaccustomed to forensic exercises, "find that Felix Page came tohis death from a blow on the head, administered with some bluntinstrument in the hands of--"

He got no further. At that instant a piercing feminine shriek rose insome remote part of the house. Coming as it did at such a juncture, when all present were hanging in suspense upon the words as they fellfrom the foreman's lips, it produced much the same effect as might havefollowed the explosion of a bomb in the company's midst. Miss Fluettegasped, and her face went as white as ashes. Maillot and Fluette wereboth instantly upon their feet, startled and tense. 

The scream was a thrilling, prolonged note of horror. For one electricsecond my blood seemed to chill in my veins. The cry swelled in aquavering crescendo, lingered with the persistence of terror, thenabruptly ceased, like the cutting off of a shrieking steam-jet. 

For one awful moment everybody sat or stood as if petrified. If a bombhad exploded it might have passed unnoticed. Then, with a wild, unnerving recollection of Genevieve, I rushed to the door. 

"Don't let a soul stir from this room!" I hoarsely shouted to Dr. DeBreen. 

In the next instant I had plunged into the hall, brushed aside thestupefied policeman there, and was taking the stairs four at a time. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE FACE IN THE ALCOVE

The first thing I noticed as I sped up the stairs was the absence ofStodger from his post in the upper hall, where I had last seen him. Only a few minutes previously I had peeped into the lower hall tosatisfy myself that everything was right; at that time he was leaningon the balustrade, engaged in a desultory conversation with OfficerMorrison, stationed below. But in a moment I understood. 

The bath room door stood wide open, and on the floor lay MissCooper--lifeless, was my first horrified thought. Stodger, with thebest of intensions and the least possible capacity for carrying themout, knelt helplessly beside her, under the delusion that he wasrendering first aid. 

Instantly I lifted the still form from the floor and pillowed the sunnybrown tresses in the hollow of my arm. How light she was! How soft!How lovely and tender! It was wonderful--a sublime revelation--thus tofeel the actual contact of her warm, yielding body. 

But Heaven knows, I did n't stop to analyze my feelings at the time. For a while I was shaken, panic-stricken, utterly unable to do morethan stare numbly down at the sweet pale face, framed in its nimbus ofwavy brown hair. I got a grip on myself, though, and Stodger was sentflying to fetch Miss Fluette. 

She came quickly enough, wondering and alarmed; and when she beheld meholding her cousin, would have snatched her from me--with what bitingwords I can only imagine. 

But for once in her life, at least, that proud, wilful young lady bowedwithout a murmur to the tone of authority; for one brief moment shestared at me astounded, and in the next, as comprehension dawned, melted. It is hard to say which of her two attitudes was the moreimpressive: the flaming anger provoked by the sight of the unconsciousgirl in my arms, or the tenderly sweet manner with which she presentlyturned to minister to her. The voice which bade me leave Genevieve toher care was actually gentle. Very reluctantly, I withdrew withStodger into the hall. Before I closed the door, however, I terselycharged Miss Belle to give me as soon as possible the explanation ofthe mystery. 

The door closed, I turned upon my unoffending associate rather angrily, I 'm ashamed to say; but Stodger's good-nature was imperturbable. Hecould tell me absolutely nothing that threw light upon whateverterrifying experience Miss Cooper had undergone. 

He had remained at the spot where I had last seen him, he said; aposition he had assumed purposely, because from there he had a view ofpractically the entire second story. He had opened all the doors sothat the slightest sound or movement in any of the chambers could notfail to attract his attention. Immediately behind him, by simplyturning his head, he could see through the bath room, across thelanding at the top of the rear stairs, and into the small sewing-roombeyond. To right and left--east and west--the corridor extended thewidth of the house, and an intruder could have gained access to any ofthe rooms only by passing the watcher. 

The sudden piercing scream, Stodger protested, had startled andastonished him as much as it had anybody. He wheeled round to find thebath room door so nearly closed that it was impossible to glimpse whatlay beyond until he had again opened it; which he had done promptly, hedeclared, to behold only Miss Cooper. She was lying on the floor in adead faint. 

Miss Belle called to me, after a minute or two of anxious waiting, andI hastened into the bath room. Genevieve was so far recovered that shewas able to look wonderingly up at her cousin, a terrified expressionyet lingering in her eyes. Her face was white and drawn. Her cousinwas upon one knee, supporting her upon the other and holding hertightly. 

I knelt upon the other side, taking one of the little hands in mine. Almost at once I was gladdened and relieved by seeing the sweet facebreak into one of its lovely smiles. 

"What was it?" I asked, anxiously enough. "Have you been hurt?"

"No, no, " replied she, quickly, "not hurt--not in the least; onlyfrightened within an inch of my life. " She shuddered, and made as ifto rise. 

"Let me up, Belle; I 'm all right now--just a wee bit trembly from theshock, maybe, but I can stand. "

She tried to laugh and to make light of the matter, but the pale lipsand quivering muscles belied the attempt. I lifted her to her feet. Her cousin remained close to her, keeping a supporting arm round herwaist and watching the white countenance with a passionate solicitudethat made me glance curiously at her. 

Every action, almost every word, of this vivid, high-spirited girlseemed to be an echo of her impetuous, wayward temper. Even a concernas natural as that excited by her cousin's present plight, was chargedwith an intensity which made me wonder what the effect might be if herfeelings were ever deeply or ruthlessly stirred. While her affectionswere stamped with an immoderate fervor, one might readily enough fancyher resentment, fired by a word perhaps, striking with a blindvehemence that recked not at all of consequences. Her emotions, apparently, knew no happy, tranquil, steadfast medium. 

As we stepped into the hall, Genevieve was saying, "I 'll go with youto the library. I merely got what I deserved, I suppose, for presumingto think that I might accomplish something single-handed. But--oh, itwas dreadful!"

"What was?" bluntly demanded Miss Belle. "What silly notion ever madeyou jump up and sail out of the room that way?"

Genevieve turned to me with a faint smile. 

"The face at the curtains, " said she. 

"Face!" echoed Miss Belle, manifestly believing that her cousin's mindwas not normal. "For goodness' sake, Genevieve, what do you mean?"

But the girl continued to address me. 

"You did n't see it?"

We had paused at the head of the stairs, two of us nonplussed and verycurious. I shook my head. 

"When you left the room, " said I, "I was too occupied otherwise to beheeding the curtained alcove. I wondered, though, what sudden impulsemoved you--why you should have gone into the alcove at all. "

"I knew that you could not leave the room right then, " she explained, the color coming quickly back to her cheeks; "I remembered our pact, and I thought I saw an opportunity of being really of assistance. Itis not to be wondered at that nobody else saw what I did. It allhappened so swiftly. By the merest chance I glanced toward the alcove, and at that very instant the curtains parted sufficiently for me to seea face. " Again she shuddered. 

"Mr. Swift, it was the most hideous face I ever looked upon. Had Ibeen alone in the library doubtless it would have terrified me eventhen. But instantly it disappeared, and without a thought of beingafraid, I hastened to investigate. 

"As I got to the conservatory I saw the door at the farther end justclosing. It didn't slam--there was n't a sound--but simply closedquickly before my eyes. Never for a moment did it occur to me that Iought to be cautious; that closing door only made me run the faster tolearn who or what had closed it. 

"Well, when I opened it, and the next door across the little passage, Isaw the same thing repeated in the bedroom beyond--a door closing, apparently from its own volition. The same thing happened with thedoor opening into the rear hall. 

"It was maddening to be just so far behind and unable to gain thefraction of a second which would enable me to find out who was fleeingfrom me in such haste--maddening to be rewarded with no more than aprocession of closing doors. 

"The chase continued on up the rear stairs, to the landing between thebath room and the small room at the back; there for the first time Ifelt a misgiving, and I hesitated. I was out of breath, my heart waspounding until my ears roared; everything else was so deathly still. 

"A glance told me that the rear room was empty of any living presence. Cautiously I pushed open the bath room door; but it was too dark to seeinside. "

"Was the door into the hall shut?" I interrupted quickly, rememberingthat Stodger believed it to be open. 

"Yes. I entered a bit timidly; all my assurance had somehowevaporated. Then--then, before I had time to make another move, twohands seized me. 

"I was thrown violently against the wall, and one of the hands tried tograsp my throat. I was fighting as hard as I could; but--I washelpless. 

"Then I screamed. I put my whole soul into it. Everything slippedaway from me, and I knew nothing more until Belle was holding me in herarms and I felt her dabbing my face with water. . . . Dear girl, don'tlook so tragic; I'm all right now. "

While Genevieve hung close at my side, the inquest waited until I hadsearched the place from cellar to garret. But never a trace of themysterious intruder did I find. When I became satisfied that he hadsafely made his escape I asked Genevieve to describe the face. 

"I 'm afraid I can't, " she returned hesitatingly. "I had such alightning-like glimpse of it. Still, in a general way, it was veryswarthy and wrinkled--quite ape-like. The lower part was covered witha short, curling, sparse black beard; the eyes were like"--she searchedfor a simile--"like a snake's. "

"That's graphic enough, " I said; "but the description fits nocountenance that I can now call to mind. "

"What can it mean?" she asked wonderingly. 

"It means, " I grimly replied, "that I guessed right: the ruby is inthis house. And I 'm going to have a time keeping it here, too, untilI find it myself. "

The one mistake of the intruder, whoever he might be, had been inpeeping between the alcove curtains; of course he had beenreconnoitring only; but a person who could move through the house sonoiselessly might easily have accomplished, without discovery, whatevererrand brought him there. 

The idea was positively uncanny and far from pleasant to dwell upon. Stodger's hearing may not have been remarkably acute, but if my lifedepended upon shutting that door so close behind him and not attractinghis attention, why, I should have hesitated long before essaying theperformance. To have the ruby lifted from under the very noses of thewatchers--while they were wide awake, too--would in all truth be asorry ending of our search for it. 

For the nonce, however, the mysterious face introduced only anadditional problem; one upon which I had but little time, just atpresent, to bestow thought. The drama in the library had beeninterrupted at its most crucial stage. It was all-important that atleast one phase of the case be brought to a termination, howeverunsatisfactory that termination might be, before anything else shouldbe undertaken. 

After explanations had been made and order was restored, the foremandid not proceed, as might have been expected, by reading the verdict. Instead he jerked his head sideways toward Miss Cooper. 

"Mr. Coroner, " he said, "we 'd like to ask the young lady somequestions. "

He was a poor specimen, that foreman; one of your little, officious, meddling busybodies, as aggravating as the buzzing of a persistent fly. 

"If they are pertinent to the inquiry, " said Dr. De Breen, "it is notonly proper, but your duty to ask them. The young lady will be sworn. "

At this unexpected demand she darted a startled glance from the foremanto Dr. De Breen, and then looked at me--as I joyfully fancied, forguidance and support. 

I nodded--she could n't avoid the ordeal--and she bowed inacknowledgment of the oath, which the doctor rattled off as if it wereall one long word. 

And just here I am unable to refrain from pointing out how small anincident will sometimes afford the turning-point for a momentouscrisis; such an apt illustration is presently to follow. 

When interrupted by Genevieve's shriek of terror the foreman had beenin the very midst of pronouncing the concluding phrase of the verdict. Had it not been for the strange face, had the venturesome girl notfollowed the face's owner, who could say how differently events mightnot have turned out? For I know now that the first verdict was quitedifferent from the one finally read. 

The catechism which Genevieve was required to undergo follows:

"What is your name?"

"Clara Genevieve Cooper. "

"How old are you?"

"I was twenty-one in December. "

"We would like to know, Miss Cooper, what relation, if any, you bear tothe witness Maillot?"

"Merely that of a friend. "

"How about him and the other young lady?"--an interrogation whichinstantly made Miss Belle flush and bridle. But the witness was fullyequal to the occasion. 

"I would n't undertake to speak for them, " she replied composedly. 

The succeeding questions brought out the relationship between the twogirls, and also established Miss Fluette's identity. Something akin toa sensation prevailed in the jury-box for a few seconds after the sixgood men and true realized that the handsome gentleman with the whitehair and dark beard was no other than the celebrated "wheat king. "Their manner toward his niece underwent a sudden transformation; theirattitude became more respectful. 

Miss Cooper was dismissed, and Maillot was recalled. He denied anyformal engagement between himself and Miss Fluette; but it soon becameapparent, both from his manner and her growing vexation, prettyprecisely what the relations between them really were. The jurylearned that the young man's quest of the Paternoster ruby had not beenundertaken without the stimulus of a very warm-hearted devotion. 

Maillot was left sitting in the witness-chair while a new verdict wasmade out. It formally charged the young man with the murder of hisuncle. 

I afterward learned, by questioning the self-important foreman, thatthe first verdict had been an open one. The demand for Miss Cooper'stestimony had been prompted by the "diversion"--I am using his ownword--she had occasioned when she left the room, and afterward threwthe proceedings into wild disorder by her scream. The interruptedverdict had failed to hold Maillot only by the narrowest margin; MissCooper's adventure had served to turn the scale against him. 

"Look here, " I demanded warmly, "don't you believe what she said?"

He smiled with an air of such superior knowledge that I very nearlycuffed his ears. 

"Oh, I don't blame the young lady!--dear me, no!" he said, with asmirk. "Loyalty, you know. What do you think of it?"

I had turned to move away, much disgusted; but I lingered long enoughto look him over curiously. 

"What's your name?" I bluntly demanded. 

"Griggs--Samuel B. Griggs. "

"I think, Mr. Samuel B. Griggs--if you really want to know--that you're a damned idiot. "

CHAPTER XVII

PRISON DOORS

As I recall the scene that brilliant winter morning in the Pagelibrary, one detail stands out so much more prominently than all therest, that the really important aspects are quite overshadowed in mymemory, and notwithstanding the surprising nature of Alfred Fluette'sdeportment, I am obliged to pause and group them in my own mind inorder to produce a reasonably correct portrayal of what actuallytranspired. But one's memory is apt to play strange and unaccountabletricks, and mine is no exception. The best mental image I can recallis distorted, all out of drawing, as the artists say; I can see onlyBelle Fluette. 

After the accusation fell from the foreman's lips, I quite suddenlybecame aware of the fact that she was standing rigidly erect, one handstrained to her bosom, the other clenched tightly against her cheek. Every vestige of color had flown from her face, leaving it as white asmarble. 

But her eyes! It is her eyes that still haunt me. They burned with alight of despair so profound that no mere human note could even feeblyyield a hint of it; and behind the despair, plucking and tearing at herheart-strings, lay a misery unutterable. She alone had remainedserenely confident of the outcome, and now, being the least preparedfor it, the shock to her high-strung susceptibilities was more keenlypoignant than human flesh could endure. She presented the appearanceof one stunned, of one beaten and buffeted to stupefaction, yet throughit all still sensible of an anguish that wrenched her very soul. 

There was no outcry, no spoken word; but in a moment a tremor ran overher slender form, her knees gave way, and with one last desperateeffort she tried to reach Maillot. Even as she turned to him, before amove could be made to sustain her, she tottered and fell prone upon herface. One extended hand clutched once at the young man's foot, thenrelaxed and grew still. It was as if her last conscious thought hadbeen governed by a flitting impulse to seek the support of even so meanan assurance of his presence. 

In a flash the lover was kneeling at his sweetheart's side, pressingher white face to his bosom in a wild embrace. He called to herfrantically, coaxed her with endearments, wholly oblivious of hisshocked audience. He assured her in choked, incoherent phrases thatall was well with him; but he spoke to deaf ears. 

Dr. De Breen, direct and practical, brought him to his senses with asharp command. 

Maillot reluctantly yielded Belle to Genevieve and the doctor. Not fora moment did a thought of his own trouble enter his head, I am sure, and he did not remove his tense look of anxiety from her face until Dr. De Breen convincingly declared that she was only in a swoon. 

"Best thing for her, just now, " said he, crisply; "she can't think. Furthermore, she needs a sedative to keep her from thinking for awhile. " Then to her father:

"Here, you, you take her home on the double-quick. Have in yourphysician. Let her cousin get her in bed. "

It is likely that Alfred Fluette had not been addressed for many a daywith such cavalier brusqueness, and overpowering indeed must have beenhis emotions now that he did not notice the doctor's abrupt manner. Even his daughter's condition seemed to produce only a momentaryimpression upon him; for by the time Maillot and Dr. De Breen hadconveyed the limp girl to a divan, where Genevieve continued tominister to her, he was excitedly striving to catch the doctor'sattention. 

"Listen to me, sir, " he commanded, his voice trembling, "you are theone in authority here; this young man must _not_ be remanded to jail. "

Dr. De Breen stopped short and fixed him with a look of surprise. AndI was not a little surprised myself. Knowing how bitterly opposed hehad been to Maillot's attentions to Miss Belle, what was I to think?Did the manner in which the shock had prostrated her--had literallyfelled her to the floor--open his eyes to the depth of theirattachment, and at the same time touch his heart with pity? Hisconcern could not have been more pronounced if the young fellow hadbeen his own son placed in similar jeopardy. Or--and here was mypredominating thought--did he have the best of reasons for _knowing_that Maillot was innocent?

During the brief pause in which Dr. De Breen coolly surveyed him--foronce the perverse glasses observing their proper function--he recoveredsomething of his equipoise. 

"See here, Doctor, " he went on more calmly, "I am not familiar enoughwith the proper procedure in--er--in criminal cases to know just what Iwant to say. But is the next step imprisonment for Mr. Maillot?"

"It is, " snapped the doctor. 

"Then I will go his bond--in any amount; but he must not go to--"

"My dear sir, " Dr. De Breen interrupted, with asperity, "a prisonerunder charge of first degree murder cannot be admitted to bail; noteven by the court having jurisdiction of his case, much less I. Thepolice are now responsible for the young man's movements. "

He deliberately turned his back upon the millionaire speculator, andstrode away. Years after that scene, Dr. De Breen confided to me thatFluette had given him the impression that he was hinting at a bribe. 

The words, however, seemed to strike Mr. Fluette like a physical blow. He winced perceptibly, and his face worked with agitation. But he rosesplendidly to the occasion. In a second or so his customary commandingdignity returned, and his keen eyes flashed with resolution anddefiance. He wheeled upon Maillot at the instant that much distressedyoung man was persuaded by Genevieve to leave Belle's side. 

"Maillot, " said he, in a firm voice, "I sincerely regret any hardfeelings I may have entertained for you in the past. You are not onlya courageous young man, but an innocent one, and one, therefore, thatis being made to suffer a grievous wrong. I wish to say so herepublicly; I wish, too, to say publicly that I mean to see that you haveat your disposal the best legal talent procurable. "

Maillot's reception of this proffer was peculiar. He looked the man ofmoney squarely in the eyes for an instant; then his lips twisted into amocking smile. He nodded his head ever so slightly, but the movementwas unmistakably a curt rejection. 

"Thank you, " he said dryly, his voice low and even. "But I intendgetting out of this scrape myself, Mr. Fluette; I don't wish tooccasion you any future embarrassment. Please don't mistake mymeaning. "

Fluette made no further effort, and it was impossible to determine justhow the rebuff--it was no less--affected him; he had himself too wellin hand, now. He began preparations for conveying home his stillunconscious daughter, and before they departed I contrived to have aprivate word with Genevieve. Her face was very tragic. 

"I must see you alone--as soon as possible, " I said hurriedly. 

"I can't leave Belle, " she whispered. "What is it?"

"My first request from my lieutenant, " I chided, smiling down at her. 

"Don't!" she pleaded. "I shall come. Where? When?"

"Dear me, no. I'll do the coming; it's only 'when'?"

"To-morrow?" she suggested doubtfully. "You know, we 're all so upset. And Belle--" The dear girl nearly broke down. "Yes, do come, " shemurmured tearfully, "as early as you can; everything depends upon you, now. "

I caught her hand. "Please don't worry, " I whispered; "everything willcome out right. I can't bear to see you suffer. Will eight o'clock betoo early?"

"No. "

"I 'll not say 'Be brave, ' for you 're the bravest girl in the world;but please, please don't fret and worry. Here 's your coachman. Good-bye. "

She smiled wanly. "I sha'n't, " she said. "Good-bye--till to-morrowmorning. "

She pressed my hand and ran lightly out. 

Maillot now came over to where I was standing. He was very pale, hisface was drawn with lines of suffering (more for Miss Belle than on hisown account, beyond doubt), but his manner was quite composed. Infact, his demeanor was more subdued--chastened, as it were--than I hadseen it at any time during our brief acquaintance. 

"Well, it's over, " he remarked bitterly. 

"Don't be an ass, " I returned. "If you are innocent, nothing worse canhappen. "

He smiled whimsically, quickly taking me up. 

"And if guilty, the worst is yet to come, eh? Well, at any rate, I 'myour prisoner. "

"Not necessarily mine, " I said. 

"By preference. I can't stand for those roughneck cops, and Stodger asa custodian is a joke. I 'd be too strongly tempted to dump him intothe first handy snow-drift, and cut loose. I don't suppose you 'llinsist on any rot about handcuffs and all that sort of thing?"

Notwithstanding his pretence of humorous indifference, there was aquestion in his tone, and he peered at me a bit anxiously. I grinned. 

"I don't know, " I said. "I won't take any chances on being dumped intoa snow-drift. "

"Rot! You know I could n't if I wanted to. "

"Mr. Fluette could have helped you, Maillot. "

I looked at him narrowly. He shrugged his shoulders, merely, andproduced and lighted a cigarette. 

"Let's go, " he said, flipping the match away. 

Stodger was left on guard at the Page place. My prisoner and I walkedto a car and proceeded to police headquarters. 

His attitude, naturally enough, was one of extreme dejection;nevertheless I tried to cheer him up--vainly--and when opportunityoffered I also tried to get some light upon the ring episode. 

"It does n't do for me to express an opinion one way or another as toyour probable guilt or innocence, Maillot, " I said at one time; "but Ican tell you this much for your encouragement. 

"Since the murder, several developments have turned up which convinceme that there 's a deal more in the crime than either you or I can atpresent conceive. You can keep it in mind that I see more work aheadthan I did immediately after quizzing you and Burke Wednesday morning.. . . By the way, that ring you slipped upon your finger this morning, whose is it?"

For a second he frowned with an air of trying to recall the incident. Suddenly his face cleared. 

"Did you notice that?" he returned, with perfect composure. "It'smine--was my mother's wedding ring. "

I was watching him intently. He met my regard with a level look. 

"In the habit of wearing it?" I asked. 

"Sometimes. "

"See here, " I came to the point with abrupt directness. "Youappreciate quite as much as I do the significance of that broad band ofgold on the middle finger of your right hand. Why did you put it thereat such a time?"

He sat silent. 

"You 've become mighty close-mouthed all at once, " I sharply urged. 

He gave me a little half-smile, and glanced away. 

"By advice of counsel I refuse to talk, " said he, quietly. 

"If you are the counsel, you have a fool for a client--and _viceversa_, " I retorted. "I suppose, too, that you refuse any assistancethat I--"

Instantly his assumed indifference vanished. 

"By no means, " stopping me with considerable warmth. "If there 's anyway out of this rotten mess it's you that must get me out. My handsare literally tied, now. And--Swift, " he hesitated; his face cloudedand his voice suddenly dropped, "I--I simply can't say anything more, old chap. "

"So, " I quietly observed, "you too are worried about Fluette. "

He started as if stung. 

"My God, Swift!" he began, and stopped. He sat staring at me a momentin utter dismay, then his disturbed look wandered to a window. 

"You 're too devilish sharp, " he muttered. 

"Lucky for you that I am, " retorted I, cheerfully. "This is a badtangle that we 're caught in, Maillot. "

He said nothing more. By the time we reached our destination he wasprepared to enter philosophically upon his period of confinement, whether it should prove long or short. As I turned to depart I noticedthat he was following me with a wistful look. 

"I 'll see that you are kept posted about the young lady, " I told him;which elicited a deep sigh of relief and a fervent word of thanks. 

Again I was preparing to leave him, the turnkey standing by andimpatiently jingling the ring of big brass keys which was suspendedfrom his arm, when the prisoner called me back. He searched my eyesearnestly. 

"Swift, " he began, "as I said before, I 'm helpless now to fight formyself. But I want to warn you against that devil Burke. I knownothing further than that he has been in the habit of visiting Mr. Fluette and of being closeted with him for hours at a time. Thesubject of those long conferences Mr. Fluette has kept strictly tohimself, evading all of Belle's inquiries and attempts to make him talkabout the fellow. Burke is repulsive to her--for which you can't blameher--and her curiosity over a man like him and a man like her fatherhaving anything in common is quite natural. It is odd, you know. 

"That's not what I intended saying, though. " He paused and eyed mekeenly an instant. "If anything turns up that drags Mr. Fluette intothis business, you will find that Burke's the one who has tangled him. Watch Burke. "

Then the heavy steel door clanged to between us. 

CHAPTER XVIII

A FIGHT IN THE DARK

After the cell door closed upon Royal Maillot I returned at once to thehouse of tragedy, whose evil genius was promising to play havoc withthe lives of so many of the living; and as I approached the bleak, austere old mansion something in its silent and inanimate exteriorseemed to repulse my advance up the gravel walk. My steps lagged, andat last I drew to a halt. 

Cold and clear and snappy as the day was, still there was somethingoppressive in the air that hung about the house of death. I looked atthe lifeless windows. Staring vacantly, utterly expressionless of theswift-moving tragic drama that had been enacted behind them, failing toforeshadow what was yet to transpire here, they all at once broughtforcibly to my mind Alexander Burke. Thus did his eyes hide, insteadof disclose, the workings within. 

That the mind of this man was secret and evil I could now no longerdoubt. Felix Page had been a powerful man, physically and mentally;yet Alexander Burke, sly and impassive, soft-spoken and soft-footed, ever alert and observant and burrowing, like a mole, in darkness, hadundermined him, and--the conviction grew--had brought about his crueldeath. 

In what way? What far-reaching machination was he so laboriouslyevolving? What snare was he casting unseen to bring down in ruin thelives of others? And why? Coward that he was, had he at no timeworked in the broad light of day?

An unwelcome sense of depression was slowly weighing me down. It wasas if the silent house were haunted. At the time, I was convinced thatI was merely making a hodge-podge of the hundred and one clews that hadcome to my hands, though now I know that the whole vast scheme wasgradually taking shape in my mind. I was bewildered by the widediversity of the opposed interests, left powerless by failure to lightupon a sure point of common interest defining the attitudes of thedifferent actors. For to say that it was the ruby did not clear thefog any--unless I accepted the growing assurance that Alfred Fluettewas the active instrument of death. 

Still, every detail I had gathered was necessary to complete thecircle. When finally I did have my case all in hand there was nosingle point that remained obscure. 

My brooding inertia was dispelled by a shout from Stodger. He wasstanding on the front porch, regarding me with considerable curiosity. 

"Hi! What you doing down there, Swift? Come here!"

I soon learned that he had something of interest to report. 

"D' ye know, Swift, " said he, with much seriousness, extending hischubby hands to the welcome warmth of the library fire, "it's anoutrage--damme, if it is n't--that I 'm so fat. H'm! Believe inghosts?"

I was instantly all attention. Genevieve's terrifying experience wastoo recent and real for me to scout any supernatural suggestion of mycolleague. 

I quickly asked:

"Seen anything about the house?"

"Not in here. Outside. Could n't chase 'em. "

"I'm glad you are fat, then; who would have watched the house while youwere chasing whatever it was you thought you saw?"

He clapped one hand on top of his bullet of a head, and stared at me incomical surprise. 

"Say! You're right, Swift! You are, by George! First time I everfound a--ah--you know--a consolation for my--er m--my stoutness. 

"Two shadows. Didn't get to see 'em plain. All the time you were goneI could glimpse 'em now and then--first one place, thenanother--slipping and sliding through the bushes, trying to keep hid, y' know. "

As may be imagined, I was profoundly interested. 

"What did they look like?" I asked. 

Stodger shook his head. "Bushes too thick. No leaves; but they wouldn't come close enough for me to get a good look. H'm. Watching thehouse, all right. "

The matter was serious enough, in all conscience. Our incessantvigilance was most certainly justified by the pertinacity of thesemysterious prowlers, for as long as they surreptitiously sought toenter the house, my belief that the ruby lay hid somewhere beneath itsroof was in a way confirmed. 

Stodger was sagely nodding his head at me. 

"To-night, " he said, with meaning. "Bet anything you like. "

"To-night, " I thoughtfully echoed. "It would not surprise me in theleast. "

Although a close watch was maintained throughout the remainder of theday, we saw no more of the elusive "shadows. " My arrival, manifestly, had frightened them away. 

I put in a portion of the time until nightfall going carefully over theold house again, from cellar to roof. My purpose now was to ascertainwhether there were any secret passages or concealed openings whereby wemight be surprised; and my labors convinced me that there were none. The face which Genevieve saw at the alcove curtains could be easilyaccounted for, since, with the exception of Stodger, who was in thesecond story, and the officer in the lower hall, everybody in the housewas assembled in the library, and, of course, completely absorbed inthe inquest. It had been an easy matter to open one of the lowerwindows, or even one of the rear or side doors, and enter the house. 

I found that the walls were all of an even, normal thickness, and therewere no spaces between floors or walls for which I did notsatisfactorily account. I also kept a watchful eye for the prototypeof the designs on the cipher, but discovered nothing that was at alllike them. 

Otherwise the day proved to be wholly uneventful. I spent much time inconsideration of my case, naturally; but this exercise yielded nothingmore conclusive than that Alfred Fluette's place in it was assuminglarger and larger proportions as time went by. 

I was much impressed with Maillot's charge to watch Burke. But hereagain I was offered no new light. It was satisfying to know thatanother than myself was distrustful of the erstwhile secretary; but asfor watching him--well, I knew that he was being subjected to aconstant espionage that left nothing to be desired. 

It was, doubtless, the emphasis which Maillot had laid upon Burke'ssecret visits to Fluette that engaged my interest. I would have likedvery much to know what they portended. If the slippery secretary hadbeen carrying on negotiations with the millionaire for the Paternosterruby, then the latter's position relative to the murder stood out quiteclearly. With knowledge of those interviews in my possession I wouldbe in a position to lay my case before the State's Attorney, who, beyond question, would procure a warrant for Fluette's immediate arrest. 

What a sensation that would create!--Alfred Fluette charged with themurder of his rival and bitter enemy, Felix Page! It would beparticularly startling inasmuch as a coroner's jury had alreadyfastened the crime upon another man. I believe the reader willunhesitatingly admit, by this time, that the Page affair presented manyremarkable aspects. 

There was one discordant element in such a theory, however: namely, howcould Fluette hope to retain possession of the gem, once he had securedit? How could he defend his title to it? Although the stone wasimmensely valuable, any person save the rightful owner would have anexceedingly difficult time disposing of it. 

But this objection was in turn offset by the possibility that Page, although he had purchased the ruby openly, _had actually acquired nojust title to it_. I admit, considering that Felix Page was never thesort of man to buy a pig in a poke, that the possibility was ratherfar-fetched; still, it was a possibility, and a very pregnant one, too. For if such were the case, Burke might have obtained, in some underhandmanner, authority to dispose of it. 

And this brought me to the, as yet, unaccounted-for Japanese--I callthem such for lack of a more definite characterization. How otherwisewas their obscure connection with the case to be explained? Why, thevery word "ruby" instantly calls up a picture of the East. How oftenhave priceless gems been filched from Oriental potentates! How oftenhave mysterious murders been committed to recover some jewel stolenfrom an Eastern temple, the murderer driven forth by religious zeal--orfanaticism, call it what you will--to a relentless search for thefetich, and to wreak a dire vengeance on the plunderer! Admitting thatthe present intricate problem involved a similar instance, I could notsee how the fact might tend to aid me any. 

After supper, which was brought in to us, Stodger and I divided thenight into two watches--I taking the first until two o'clock in themorning, and he assuming responsibility from that time on until hechose to awaken me. 

I arranged the two watches thus because I imagined that if an attemptshould be made to enter the house during the night, it would occur atsome time near the hour mentioned when both of us would more thanlikely be awake. My guess, you will see, was a poor one. 

I also wanted to devote the fore part of the night, when my brain isalways clearest, to an exhaustive study of the cipher found byGenevieve in the jewel-box. Until Stodger was ready to retire I couldconcentrate my whole mind upon it, I told myself, without fear of beingdisturbed. After my companion turned in I would have to remain alert, keeping pretty constantly on the move so that no marauder might stealin upon us unawares, or from an unexpected quarter. 

If the place was bleak and dreary in the daytime, what words willdescribe its dispiriting influence at night? There is a silence thatis soothing and restful, which imbues one with a sense of comfort and apleasant desire for sleep. Then there is another sort of silence; onethat magnifies every trifling sound, sounds that could not even bedetected during the day; the sort of silence that hints at uneasystirrings and movements all about one. The distant cockcrow ringsclear and high, floors creak, the very timbers of the house complain, and mice scurry in the walls. 

It was such a stillness that enveloped us. Even Stodger'sirrepressible good-humor failed to cheer. The old mansion waspossessed of a thousand voices, strange, indefinable noises that keptour attention constantly divided; yet the night was so still that Icould hear our watches ticking in our pockets. 

The result was that the cipher received only scant attention from me. I would get only fairly absorbed in my task when Stodger would startleme with a sudden "Ssh!" or a no less startling command to "Listen!"Whereupon we would both sit straining our ears to hear--nothing. 

Every few minutes one or the other of us, or both together, would goover the entire house, examining doors and windows and making sure thatno one had entered since the last tour of inspection. 

This was repeated so many times that Stodger himself grew glum, and atlast signified a determination to turn in. He made himself comfortableon the big library divan, --the same divan which had held BelleFluette's motionless form only a few hours previous, --wrapped himselfin a heavy blanket from Felix Page's bed, and was soon fast asleep; or, at least, he offered audible evidence that he was. 

Again I tried to fasten my attention upon the cryptic parchment; but itwas of no use. In spite of myself, my head would jerk up to alistening attitude every time a board creaked or I fancied I heard adoor somewhere in the house being cautiously opened. Time after time Iwould be sent stealthily to some remote corridor or chamber, only toreturn again to the library no wiser than before. 

I finally thrust the cipher back into my pocketbook and resigned myselfto a lonely vigil. The great library was a place of shadows and darkrecesses, as well as of silence; and had it not been for the regular, stertorous breathing of the sleeper, I might have wished myself wellout of it. 

The hours dragged along--midnight, one o'clock, two, half-past, andstill I did not rouse Stodger; I never had less desire to sleep. During one of my excursions through the empty, echoing rooms I set downmy lantern--we had provided ourselves with this convenience--and lookedout into the night. The pleasant weather of the past few days hadended; it was dark--very dark--and an occasional flake of snow, materializing ghostlike within the square of light from the lantern, scraped along the small diamond panes with a feathery touch. 

Presently I entered Felix Page's bedroom. And here, for the first timethat night, I was sensible of an absolute stillness. Not even a boardcreaked. Not a breath stirred the leafless boughs outside, nor rattledthe withered vines on the walls. Then of a sudden I grew rigid, tensely alert, and watchful. From somewhere a breath of icy outdoorair struck upon my face and hands. 

Now whatever else might be said of this old house, it was not a placeof drafts. Its walls were thick and solid, its doors massive, and thedoors and windows were snug-fitting; therefore, the fact that I nowfelt a perceptible rush of air could signify but one thing--that anoutside door or window had been opened. 

During a brief pause I hesitated over whether I should rouse Stodger;but so slight a warrant decided me not to. A shout from any part ofthe house, should he be needed, would accomplish the purpose quite aswell. 

So I merely stood motionless and listened. The circumstance that mystraining ears could now hear nothing whatever was in itself ominous. The hush which had fallen upon the place was the sort that heralds anadvance through a forest of the most cautious of hunters. Danger mightbe creeping upon me from every side and in any imaginable guise; if so, here was my warning. 

Then it was that I smiled and reached a decision. With infinitecaution I sank to the floor, removed my shoes, and draped a rug overthe lantern. Only the dimmest points of light showed through the weaveof the fabric; merely enough to serve as a guiding beacon in case Iwanted to find it in a hurry. Next, with my revolver in hand, I stoleto the hall door, which had been left ajar purposely, and peered out. 

The darkness was fathomless, the silence complete. The spacious lowerhall was the Dionysius' ear of the house; if there was any movementabout the place, here if anywhere it would be detected and its sourcedetermined. 

The floor was of hardwood, and my feet were soon numb with cold. Then, too, bravery is a relative term when all is said and done. A cowardmay be always a coward, but it is not an inevitable corollary that abrave man is always brave. To know a possible antagonist, to walkboldly up to him in the broad light of day, is one thing; to stand in ahyperborean hall in the dead of the night, surrounded by the darknessof the pit, ignorant alike of the nature of your peril and the pointfrom which an attack may come--that is quite another. 

So I freely own that my jaws ached with the effort of keeping my teethfrom clicking together like castanets. 

In the course of a long and not uneventful career, I have been in agood many tight places and under all sorts of conditions where I had tohold myself to the matter in hand with every grain of will power that Icould muster; but never since that night in the old Page hall have Iexperienced precisely the same unnerving feeling that possessed methen. I came perilously close to an ignominious retreat--and beforeever I had an idea of what I was running from!

Fortunately for whatever status I may hold in this chronicle, themovement was checked at its inception. In a flash my momentary panicwas forgotten. I caught a sound that I recognized and, moreover, located on the instant. It was the long, unmistakable creak of a loosestair plank such as follows the gradual shifting of a person's weightfrom one foot to another. Somebody was slowly and cautiously ascendingthe rear stairs. 

I could smile once more and breathe normally. Instead of retreating, Iwas in the next few seconds stealing up the front stairs. Nor did Imove very slowly, either. I knew by experiment that its steps were allsolid, and that I need not fear the betrayal of any complaining board. 

At the stair head I became cautious again; I did n't want to risk acollision with the _étagère_. What must I do, however, but stumbleagainst the topmost step and plunge head foremost right into the thing. 

The ensuing crash that filled the house was like an explosion. It alsodrowned my comments. To make matters worse, in my efforts to keep fromfalling, my revolver shot from my hand and through the balusters, andwent clattering down to the landing with the noise of a falling brick. 

I recovered myself on the instant, however, and with a finalmalediction, darted toward the bath room. There was a sound ofscurrying behind its door; but I paused not for doors. Fortunately itwas a trifle ajar, and it went open before me with a thud. Also frombehind it a most unmistakable human grunt emanated, the sort ofinvoluntary notice a person gives when he has the wind suddenly knockedout of him. Then right in my ears there sounded the most weird, unearthly cry that I ever heard; it was positively uncanny. A coldchill went through me from head to foot. 

Events thereafter moved with such electric swiftness that the detailsare all blurred. 

I remember that I heard Stodger shouting encouragement, and hisstockinged feet patting the bare floors as he ran. As the bath roomdoor shot open and the strange cry shrilled forth, some object fell tothe floor near me. There was also a sound of running feet up the rearstairs; which would indicate that my enemy was a host, and that themain body was returning to accomplish a rescue. 

In a flash I had reached forth my arms and grappled with the unknownbehind the door. That struggle would have been short, for he was likea child in my grasp. But instantly I was seized from all sides atonce, it seemed. It was as if a dozen hands were feeling over me, todistinguish friend from foe. 

Into what had I rushed so blindly? Who was opposing me? How many werethere?

At least twice I was borne to one knee by sheer weight and the numberof my assailants. Both times I succeeded in shaking myself free andrising again to my feet. I was warm enough now, heaven knows, and Ihad the satisfaction of knowing that I was inflicting far more damagethan I was receiving. 

I knew when Stodger unhesitatingly threw himself into the thick of thefray. Good old Stodger! And there we fought, silently, furiously, inthe restricted space of the bath room, enveloped in a darkness that onecould almost feel. Again and again I collided with the porcelain tub. More than once when I secured a firm grasp upon one of my unseenadversaries, I picked him up bodily and hurled him with all the forceof which I was capable toward where I fancied the tub to be. But inthe riot and frenzied confusion of being jerked first this way and thenthat, how could mortal distinguish the location of anything!

The struggle ended abruptly. Stodger and I were at a disadvantage, forhe dared not shoot on my account, and I had no weapon but my two barehands. 

Not so our antagonist, however. Of a sudden one side of my face feltas if some one had quickly drawn the tip of a red-hot poker from thecorner of my eye to my chin. At the same instant a crushing blowcaught me above one ear. 

The blow did not render me unconscious, but it more than staggered me. For an instant such strength as was left me was needed to keep fromtumbling headlong. I was on my knees and one hand, while the other armwas hooked over the rim of the tub. 

The fight had ended. I could hear a patter of feet on the rear stairs;I could hear some one near me on the floor, breathing heavily; thenfell silence. I tried to yell to Stodger to be up and after them, butthe result was only a painful wheezing in my throat. Then the gaspingform on the floor groaned, and I managed to get dizzily to my feet. 

We received the worst of that fight in more ways than one. When Imanaged to find a candle and light it, I discovered that Stodger wasthe one who had groaned. He was sitting up, not badly hurt, andstaring dazedly at the candle. His mouth hung ludicrously open. Butin a moment he struggled upright. 

"Good God, Swift!" he gasped. "You 've been butchered!"

Then I recalled the red-hot poker. I put a hand to my cheek; it cameaway covered with blood. From the shoulder down, my clothes weresaturated with it, and I had left a crimson trail to mark each of mymovements since the keen-edged blade had laid my face open. 

But enough of the wound. The white pucker of scar which to-daydisfigures my face will be a life-long memento of that spirited combatin the dark. 

After we were in condition to do so, Stodger and I set about aninspection of the scene. 

First of all, we did n't find a trace of our adversaries, or how manyof them there might have been, until we came to the snow outside. Anopen dining-room window indicated their method of ingress, the trampledsnow beneath their number. There had been five. 

"Why the bath room?" Stodger demanded, in deep perplexity. "Why shouldeverything that happens in this house be pulled off there?"

Why indeed?

"Let's go back there and try to find out, " I returned, stiffly, for mycheek was paining under the mass of plaster that Stodger had piled uponit. 

Carefully and systematically, we went over every inch of space--I don'tknow how many times I had done so since the murder--but foundabsolutely nothing that was not already familiar to me. It wasmiserably aggravating that every search I undertook in this house ofmystery should prove fruitless. Yet, we could find nothing whatever toserve as a reply to Stodger's pertinent question. 

It was before the bath room door that Felix Page had met his death; itwas the bath room that had been designated on the chart found by me inthe snow; it was to this point that both Alexander Burke and AlfredFluette had turned with a glance of ardent eagerness; it was to thebath room that Genevieve had pursued the mysterious yellow face--alwaysthe bath room. It would seem to be the converging point of thetragedy's every moving current. 

We were about to give it up in despair, when I started forward with awordless cry. _The bar of yellow soap was gone!_

On the instant the import of this discovery flashed into my mind. Howblind and dull I had been!

During the struggle Tuesday night, between Page and--shall I sayFluette?--in the hall, Burke had in some way secured the ruby, and withdiabolical cleverness _had pressed it into the bar of soap_! A bit ofmanipulation under the water-tap had removed all traces. Think of thebrain that could light upon a hiding-place like that in the stress ofsuch a moment! And I had paused by that very bar of soap, philosophizing and moralizing--it made me sick to think of it. Nowonder they were all so interested in the bath room!

This revelation left my mind blank for a second. Then came a rush ofmingled feelings--bitter chagrin and disappointment, mortificationbecause I had been outwitted, and a blind, hot resentment against thosewho had bested me. 

Recalling the object I had heard drop to the floor at the moment Idashed the door open, I dropped to my hands and knees and began afeverish search for some sign. Yes, there it was--a small smear ofsoap, where the bar had struck. 

For a while Stodger thought I was crazy, and perhaps I was. I fumedand raved at him for not entering into the search with a frenzied zealequal to mine. At last he too understood. 

But our pawing over the floor and the stairs, and even in the snowoutdoors, availed nothing. We were beaten, confounded, made alaughing-stock. 

The bar of soap was gone. 

CHAPTER XIX

BELLE

It was a very crestfallen detective that presented himself at theFluette home early Friday morning. I had counted so much uponunearthing the ruby myself, assured that through it I must certainlysucceed in drawing some betrayal from the murderer, that its lossamounted to a thwarting of all my efforts. My feeling was that of onewho has striven and failed--failed through a solitary act of grosscarelessness. 

But if I was dejected, I was no less determined. Only a little morethan two days had elapsed since Felix Page met his untimely death; thebody had not been interred yet; and I knew that I held in my hands theends of a net which enveloped all the actors. One of them was guilty. My determination was to be no longer considerate through fear ofwounding the innocent. I meant to draw in the lines of the net untileverybody's position stood clear and unequivocal; but to that end Imust be fortified with one more fragment of information. And here itwas that I looked to Genevieve. 

A neat-appearing maid admitted me, who seemed to be expecting myarrival, for she conducted me at once up-stairs, above the second storyto the third, and to a room in the rear of the house. I wondered a bitat this; but I was more surprised than ever when the open doordisclosed Miss Fluette instead of Genevieve. A good many startlingexperiences were in store for me that morning. 

The maid closed the door and left us immediately. I began mutteringsome words expressive of my pleasure at seeing Miss Fluette able to beup and about; but something in her manner checked the speech. She hadnot even looked at me. In fact, I quite suddenly realized that she wasstudiously keeping her eyes averted from mine. 

And again, she presented the appearance of one who has recentlyundergone a strenuous exertion. Her rich, red-gold hair was indisorder; she was breathing deeply, and her cheeks were flushed, thoughher movements were direct and full of purpose. Then, too, if a man mayhazard the guess, I would have said that the lacey, beribboned dressinggown she wore hid her nightdress. The situation was most unusual. 

When I entered the room she was standing on one side of the door, precisely as if she had moved aside to make way for me, meaning todepart as soon as I had entered. But she did not. Instead, theinstant I crossed the threshold, she advanced quickly to the door. Sheturned the key, then withdrew it from the lock, and hastened to a chairon the side of the room farthest away from me. 

I could not repress a smile--despite my amazement at theseproceedings--when I realized that the chair was placed between us as anobject of defence. She stood, very erect, behind it, her hand tightlyholding the back. She was prepared with a weapon of offence, also. For now her right hand appeared, for the first time, from a fold of hergown; I was startled to see that it held a small, shining revolver. For the first time, too, her hazel eyes met mine, and they burned witha light which, considering the manner of my reception, I was not slowin ascribing to a state of mind bordering upon irresponsibility. 

"So I am a prisoner, " I said. 

"You are, " she replied. She clipped the words in an uncompromising waywhich promised that I was in for a bad quarter of an hour. Where inthe world was Genevieve? I wondered. But Miss Belle went on at once, eying me steadily with a hard, stony look. 

"I shall get to the point at once. It all depends upon you, whether ornot you leave this room alive. It will be for you to choose, and Ithink you 'll choose the wiser course. I 'm in dead earnest. "

She was, whatever her purpose; there was no gainsaying that. I wasprofoundly curious to learn what that purpose was. 

"May I sit down?" I asked, calmly. 

She made an impatient gesture with the hand that clutched thechair-back--the hand that held the door-key. But there were two keysin her grasp, I observed. The flowing sleeve of her dressing-gowndisclosed a momentary glimpse of white, rounded arm. 

"It's useless--useless for you to play for time. I want to know whyyou have permitted Royal Maillot to be railroaded to _jail_"--she flungthe word at me--"and permitted a _snake_ like that creature, Burke, togo scathless. 

"But, no, I don't care for your motives. You know Royal to beinnocent. Between the two who were in that house Tuesday night--Royal, open, frank, and manly; Alexander Burke, sly, secretive, and a cowardif ever there was one. What sort of intellect have you that it shouldmake such a choice between these two? Bah! You're either base--inleague with the criminals--or a fool. "

She stopped for sheer lack of breath. She stood staring at me with allthe dignity of an outraged queen, and for once in my life I was soastounded that I was at an utter loss for words. I sank into a nearbychair--without her permission--and for the second or so of the pause, my thoughts flew like lightning. 

When Miss Fluette was carried from the Page library the previous dayher condition promised a long siege of illness; Dr. De Breen hadconfirmed my own surmise with a declaration to that effect. Why, then, was she not at this moment in bed, with Genevieve caring for her? Ihad an engagement with Genevieve; she was expecting me at eighto'clock. Miss Belle's appearance indicated that she had prepared forthis meeting with the utmost haste--she had probably risen and donneddressing-gown and slippers after I rang the doorbell. What, then, hadshe done with Genevieve?

I was not in the least frightened by her display of the pistol. Totell the truth, it was only with much difficulty that I kept fromlaughing. Still, I did so. The girl was plainly so overwrought thatshe was fairly frantic, and it would require the utmost circumspectionon my part to keep her from precipitating matters before somebody came. The women folks, I fancied, would then need the assistance of a man;but for the present her condition demanded that I be at leastconsiderate. 

So I concluded to humor her. 

"What is it you wish me to do?" I inquired, not forgetting my dignity. 

She waved the insignificant weapon toward a writing desk. 

"There are pens and ink and paper, " she said, her voice tremulous withsuppressed passion. "I want you to write down a plain, straightforwarddeclaration that Royal Maillot is innocent, and then follow it with thereasons why you know him to be innocent--for you have those reasons. Doubtless it will include an exposure of the guilty; very well, this isthe time for such a disclosure. "

The amazing effrontery of the proposal made me gasp. Suppose I were totell her that I believed her father to be the guilty man? Heavens andearth! Here was a pretty pass!

"Miss Fluette, " I said at length, very gravely, "such a declarationfrom me would have no more weight than the sheet of paper itself. Thematter is entirely out of my hands. Further than to procure theevidence necessary to convict the guilty, I have no influence whatever. "

"So!" Her lip curled and her eyes flashed. "You would weave a ropeabout Royal's neck!"

"I would not, " I emphatically disputed. "If Royal Maillot wasinstrumental in Felix Page's death, he was so innocently. He don'tknow now--"

She broke in, leaning with intense eagerness across the chair-back. 

"Then _why_ is he in prison?" There was a note of triumph in hervoice, as if she had me cornered. 

"Miss Fluette, " I replied earnestly, "will you listen to me for a fewminutes? Believe me, there is no occasion for this desperate manner--"

"I _am_ desperate. "

"Perhaps. I understand your feelings; you and Mr. Maillot have mydeepest sympa--"

She cut me short with a rap of the pistol upon the chair-back; I lookedto see the thing go off. 

"We don't want sympathy, " she said through her teeth. "We wantjustice. And justice we 'll have. Go over there and write!"

She imperiously indicated the desk. 

Was a man ever caught in such an absurd predicament! I was truly sobernow. I was resolved not to commit myself to anything that would onlymake me ridiculous; but this passionate, high-strung girl had told onlythe truth when she warned me that she was in dead earnest. My dilemmawas most perplexing--and irritating, too. Could she be made tounderstand that if I exposed my hand now, before the issue was ripe, that the disclosure might work irreparable injury? Would shecomprehend that such a course would immediately drive the guilty insidetheir defences? Could she be made to see that it was better for herlover to endure a temporary inconvenience, than to be left in aposition where he could never be freed from reproach? Perhaps so, butonly by showing her where her father stood. I scarcely need point howimpossible such a choice was. And in her present mood!

"Where is Miss Cooper?" I asked at last. 

She abruptly clutched the hand that held the keys, so that they clickedtogether. 

"Never mind, " she flared at me, with a stamp of her foot. "Obey me. "

"And if I don't?"

And now she levelled the pistol at me. She threw back her head and herlips curved. 

"I 'll shoot, " she announced, in a tense tone. "So help me, I 'llshoot. "

[Illustration: "I 'll shoot, " she announced in a tense tone, "so helpme, I 'll shoot. "]

For a moment we confronted each other, I utterly nonplussed, every lineof the girl's figure breathing relentless determination. 

"Miss Fluette, " I tried to reason with her, "you are beside yourself. Pray don't do anything you 'll regret. "

But she stopped me. Her voice was harsh and strained. 

"Get up out of that chair. Do as I say. "

Should I continue to humor her?--for further parleying was wholly outof the question. And if I wrote anything at all, it would doubtlesshave to pass her critical inspection--and also into herpossession--before she would yield an inch. 

I had to decide quickly. I started to shake my head, and _bang!_--thepistol blazed right into my face. 

Heaven knows where the bullet went; I only know that it missed me. Next instant I was too busy to think about how narrow had been myescape. I sprang up agilely enough now, and was only just in time tocatch the drooping figure before it fell. As I passed a supporting armround her, her hair tumbled about her face and over her shoulders. Hereyes were closed, her brow was gathered in a frown, her lips werepinched and livid. 

I acted rapidly. She had not fainted--was not wholly unconscious--forshe was still putting forth a feeble effort to help herself. I easedher into the chair, behind which she had been standing and into whichshe now sank limp and silent. Her chin fell forward upon her bosom, and now and then her shoulders rose in a racking, gasping sob. 

She let the still smoking pistol drop into my hand. Somewhere below Icould hear Genevieve calling wildly and some one pounding away upon adoor. 

Next I got the keys from Miss Belle's yielding fingers, and soon hadthe door to the room open. The cries and pounding had ceased, and Isurmised that the troop of maids and other servants chattering on thelower stairs and in the second story hall had been attracted to theirsource. Then a hope came to me that the shot had passed unnoticed. 

Well, it transpired that Genevieve was locked in a room on the secondfloor, much to the amazement of the servants, none of whom, I wasthankful to learn, had heard the shot. Genevieve had, though, or I wasvery much mistaken in the cause of her vigorous effort to attractattention and her present frenzied appeals for some one to break downthe door. 

"Oh, please, please, don't wait for the key, " she was importuning them. "Break in the door--only hurry!"

"Everything's all right, Miss Cooper, " I called. A little cry ofrelief came from beyond the closed portal. "I have the key, " I added. 

The second key which Miss Fluette had held was the one, and I had thebolt shot in a jiffy. Genevieve ran straight to me and threw herselfinto my arms. 

Whatever it was she meant to say in her first overjoyed transport, remained unsaid; for I unceremoniously clapped a hand over her mouth, picked her up and carried her bodily back into the room, and slammedthe door upon the gaping servants. 

"They don't know, " I said. "Go up-stairs to Belle; she has fainted. The explosion was accidental, and no one was hurt. " I was stillholding her close in my arms. "God bless you!" I whispered at her ear. And then--

Well, even the exigencies of a memoir do not require that I should setdown what occurred then. Genevieve, her cheeks aflame, broke from myembrace and ran out of the room. I heard her light steps upon thestairs, and then the door to the room which had come near being thescene of a tragedy, opened and closed. 

CHAPTER XX

GENEVIEVE'S MISSION

Almost at once a summons came from the up-stairs room for Miss Belle'smaid. The rest of the servants were dismissed, and Genevieve signalledover the balusters for me to wait. 

A very old man, cheerfully garrulous, who announced that he was thebutler, took me downstairs. 

"The drawing-room--living-room--or if you're of a mind to smoke, sir, Mr. Fluette's study. " He indicated each of the rooms mentioned with alittle flourish of the hand. 

Although I am not a smoker, the word "study" arrested my attention. Iindicated my preference. The old man instantly clapped a hand to oneear, and, leaning toward me, shouted into my face, "Hey?" So I decidedthe matter for myself by striding down the hall to where a door stoodinvitingly open. 

Now perhaps you may consider it to have been the first duty of atraditional detective to take advantage of this opportunity, andperhaps you may be right. However, I believe I can assert, with somemeasure of authority, that a man in my profession may be a man ofprinciple and honor and still succeed. I believe I may go evenfurther: honest, straightforward conduct and upright dealing, bywinning the confidence and respect of those with whom he holdsintercourse, will carry a detective farther along the road to successin a given undertaking than any other means he may adopt. Honesty, inmy calling as in all others, is the best policy. 

But there are certain subtle impressions, often difficult to define, which are more potent than foot-prints and thumb-marks. A man's words, for example, are often of far less importance than his manner ofuttering them. A man's personality is the stamp by which he declareshis status among his fellows, and everybody is entitled to scan it thathe may weigh and consider and judge. Hence a man's surroundings bear athousand tokens of his character; for him to try to obliterate them, tokeep them hid, is not to be frank and open, and that in itself invitessuspicion. 

My sole object in entering Alfred Fluette's study, therefore, wasprompted by a hope that I might absorb something of its atmosphere. Idid not know the man. Here was the place where he spent his leisurehours, where he unbent and became his normal self. It were indeedstrange if I failed to gain some concept of his character. 

I leaned against a window-casing, and surveyed the room with muchinterest. From the appearance of the books on the shelves--they wereworn from use, but their coating of dust evidenced neglect--I gatheredthe idea that the master of the house had once been a bookish man, butthat of late he had grown away from such pursuits. Here and there onthe wide-topped writing-table were letters and papers in neat piles, while other letters and papers were heaped up and scattered about inthe most careless disorder. The ink-well and blotting-pad werescrupulously tidy, but he never troubled to clean his pens after usingthem, or even to place them in the pen receiver. 

To me, all this argued a man whose moral forces were undergoing a slowbut certain deterioration; and with a man in Alfred Fluette's position, and with his responsibilities, the possibilities were manifold andominous. His conscience still had a voice to raise in protest againstmeddling with his niece's heritage; but he remained deaf to the voice. He could stoop to villainy; but he was not so callous to wrongdoing butthat the stooping hurt. Alfred Fluette needed a jolt--somebody tobring him up with a short turn--and I resolved, having the means, to bethe one to do it. 

As my glance roved hither and thither about the room, it was suddenlyarrested and held. 

On the writing-table, among a thousand and one odds and ends, was amemorandum calendar. It was in nowise different from scores of othercalendars; the date displayed was to-day's, and in the blank spacebelow, written in a large, firm handy appeared a notation. 

But this memorandum contained a most peculiar word. Somehow, as my eyeencountered it, a thrill ran through me. I could not define it; thethrill was without perceptible meaning, but I felt that the odd wordshould tell me something. The word was so odd, in fact, that I fearedI could not remember it. So I copied it upon the back of an envelope, thus:

 TSHEN-BYO-YEN. 

Immediately under it had been written: "10 o'clock. "

Further speculation on the matter was interrupted by Genevieve comingdown-stairs. I stepped into the hall when I heard her, and she at oncejoined me. We went into the living-room. 

Her beautiful eyes were round with wonder, her sweet face filled withconcern; but before I entered into any explanations, I turned to herand held out my arms. 

"First, " I whispered, "I want to know whether it is real. "

She caught her breath sharply; the color came quickly to her cheeks, atender light to the blue eyes. She put her hands confidently into mine. 

"What has happened to you?" she asked, standing away from me andstaring with perplexed solicitude at the testimony of Stodger'sbarbarous surgery. I had forgotten all about the red-hot poker. 

"A mere scratch--a nothing, " I made light of it. "I 'll tell you allabout it when the time comes. There are too many other things to bedisposed of first. "

"But--you have been wounded, " she persisted, now thoroughly alarmed. And so I had to tell her about the night's adventure, which I did, forthe most part shamefacedly enough. 

It was a delight to watch the different expressions flit across herlovely countenance, to see them mingle and blend and give way toothers--wonder, amazement, awe, horror, terror--I can't begin to namethem all. A score of times she interrupted me, but it was always awelcome interruption. 

"Stodger 's a trump, " I concluded. "Think of him jumping up from asound sleep and throwing himself into the thick of the fray, withoutone second's hesitation. "

"Y-e-s, " she agreed, but there was no enthusiasm in her tone. Then sheturned warmly upon me. 

"I 'm thinking, though, that you 've been gifted with mighty littlesense, Knowles Swift, to have acted so recklessly. The very idea of asane man creeping through that dark hall and up those dark stairs, andplunging into he knew not what!" She eyed me severely. 

"But I did know, " I protested meekly. "It was the _étagère_"

There was a solemn rebuke in the slow shaking of her head. "A manswears so, " she sighed, "when he does anything awkward, like that. "

I remained discreetly silent. 

However, she was too much exercised over my "wound"--as she persistedin calling the scratch on my cheek--and the loss of the ruby toencourage any levity. Honestly, at that moment I cared not a whit forthe ruby. Besides, there were consolations which I need not record. It _was_ real--very, very real; and I was the happiest man in the world. 

Genevieve was also curious to learn--and very naturally so--what hadtranspired between Belle and me. 

"How is she now?" I parried. I had concluded that when Miss Belle wasagain her normal self, she would rather have our little episodeforgotten. 

"Calm as a graven image, " was the reply. Grief and anxiety trembled inGenevieve's voice. "But it is a stony, deathlike sort of calm thatgives me the creeps. The poor girl is distracted. She wants to bealone; she sent me to you. "

"_She_ sent you, " said I, with quick interest. This struck me as beingrather curious. 

"Oh, I know Belle, " said Genevieve. "She probably said some verybitter things to you; now she 's sorry. "

I trusted that the impulsive young lady was experiencing some pangs ofremorse; but before I confided anything, I learned how Genevieve cameto be locked in Belle's room. 

Early in the morning Belle had grown quite tranquil, but insisted upontalking. To humor and soothe her, Genevieve, during their talk, asserted that I could be depended upon to save Royal. She alsomentioned that I was expected to call. 

After breakfast Genevieve had fallen asleep, through sheer weariness. Belle must have risen cautiously, determined to treat with me herself. Her impulsive decision was manifestly arrived at after I rang the bell, because she had had no time to dress. 

Soon after, Genevieve had awakened with a start, to find herself lockedin and the bell-button dug out of its socket. She could not summon theservants without creating an uproar. She soon surmised something ofwhat Belle had in mind, but never, until she heard the muffled reportof the pistol, had she dreamed that the frenzied girl contemplatedanything so desperate and rash. 

Well, I softened the matter as much as I could for Miss Belle, makingit very clear that I realized from the start that she was notresponsible, and that I had been most of the time engaged in calmingher and trying to persuade her to return to her room. I even stretcheda point about the shooting; I feared that Genevieve would never forgiveher for that. I said it had occurred--without intent--while I wasstruggling with her; which, after all, was perhaps not far from thetruth. 

"Why should Miss Belle have any reason for despising Alexander Burke?"I asked during our conference, for the girl's patent abhorrence of thefellow stuck in my mind. 

Genevieve's expression became all at once very grave. For a moment shesat silent, toying with a plait of her skirt; then she looked up at me, saying soberly:

"It is one of the things that I shouldn't talk about. Still--I don'tknow, " she faltered. "It is Burke alone who has roused herresentment. " Then she decided. 

"I will tell you this much: She overheard a conversation between himand her father. It filled her with loathing for the fellow--thatand--and something else. "

"I shall not try to force your confidence, my dear girl, " I said. "Tell me only what you think you ought. "

"Belle trusts me implicitly, " she said simply. 

"And I want her to continue to. The something else that makes herloathe him--are you free to speak of that?"

"It's nothing; it's ridiculous. " She laughed nervously. "He has triedto make love to her. _Ugh!_" She shuddered at the idea. 

"The dickens he has!"

Such a thought had never entered my head; it was impossible to imaginethat slippery rascal in the role of an ardent lover. His blood was ascold as a fish's. But now I understood the fellow's animus towardMaillot; his hatred was inspired by jealousy. Belle had never spokenof the matter to Maillot--mortification was potent to hold thisconfidence in check--but he had instinctively distrusted and dislikedBurke in return. 

I could not bring myself to confide in my lovely coadjutor myconvictions respecting her uncle. I learned that he had left the housethat morning at an hour unusually early for him, and I thought at onceof the queer memorandum on his calendar. He was still very muchworried, declared Genevieve, and when at home kept more and more tohimself as time went by. Mrs. Fluette was asleep after the night'sordeal with her daughter. 

"If Royal were free to come after her, " said Genevieve, not withoutsome bitterness, "he could carry Belle away this very minute; therewould be nobody to say him nay. Poor boy!"

"It is more than likely that he shall soon, " I offered in dubiouscomfort. And then we got down to the purpose of my call. 

"Do you know where your aunt and uncle were married?" I asked. 

"Yes. It was in a little town in Ohio--"

"Merton, " said I. 

"That's it! But how did you know?"

I smiled at her surprise. "It's Felix Page's birth-place; the rest wasinference. "

She waited with ill-concealed curiosity for what was to follow. Ifound it necessary to hold her hands--both of them--while I told her. 

"Would you mind making a journey there?--at once--to-day?"

Her eyes opened wide; even her sweet lips parted; but she waited. 

And now I found it really essential to put my arm around her and drawher to me--she was too agitated to hear otherwise what I had to say. Ihastened to explain how impossible it was for me to leave the city justat the time, what with my anxiety to recover the ruby and the necessityof keeping in close touch with Burke. 

"I require only one more piece to complete the answer to our riddle, " Iaffirmed, --I really thought so at the time, --"and you can get it forme. Don't bother your aunt; she will keep back all essentials, anyway. Your uncle and aunt and Felix Page all came from the same town, andthere you can find plenty of old gossips who can--they 'll be only toowilling to--give you all the information you want. They 'll give youmore; but we can winnow the wheat from the chaff after you get back. Do you feel equal to such an undertaking?"

The proposal appeared to overcome her. She considered for a time, thenturned to me, her eyes dancing, her cheeks flushed. 

"Yes, " she said, with bated breath. "I can't do Belle any good; sheonly wants to be alone. What do you want me to do?"

"Dig up every scrap of family history that you can--the Pages', theFluettes', and the Coopers'; especially as they affect one another. Being a Cooper yourself, the task should be easy for you; you arecompiling a family-tree, you know. "

Genevieve gave me a sly look, and retorted:

"'When first we practise to deceive'--"

"Oh, no, " I assured her. "If you do your work thoroughly, youcertainly will have a complete family-tree. So there 's no deceptionabout it. "

Well, it was finally settled that she would go, and that she wouldreport the result of her journey to me as soon as possible. 

She then elicited a confession of my inability to solve thecipher--which confession was yielded up to the accompaniment of anexceedingly sour smile. 

"That old house is a hoodoo, " I said bitterly. "I have failed ineverything I ever undertook inside its walls. The rest of the chasewill be pursued on the outside. "

"And you did n't even find the little daisy what-you-may-call-'ems--theoriginals, I mean?" She meant the crazy designs on the cipher. 

"I did not. "

Genevieve laughed. 

"Wait till I get back. I mean to have a try at our cryptograph. Ifthe daisies are in the old Page place, I 'll find them. "

"They 're there, all right. I 'm sure you 're welcome to try--if you'll let me assist in the search. "

She wrinkled her nose and sniffed. "Hmf! A lot of assistance I canlook for from _you_. " Her tone was emphatically disparaging. "No, I'll find them by myself. But I 'd be afraid to stay--for long--alonein that empty house. "

I cared not in what capacity I served, just so I might be with her. 

After making me promise that I would have the scratch on my faceattended to at once, she sent me away. 

I had not proceeded far toward town when I discovered that somebody wasdogging my steps. 

CHAPTER XXI

SHADOWS

It required some little time for me to determine that my shadow was oneof the "Japanese"; for it was a most intangible and elusive shadow. Whatever else I might think of these worthies, I could not deny thattheir ability to hang on a man's trail, and at the same time keepthemselves well-nigh invisible, amounted positively to genius. Withall my doubling back and lurking in doorways around corners, the fellownever came up to where I could get a good view of him. 

Of course it occurred to me that here was a chance to attempt acapture. But was it? The fellow was so slippery and artful that Irisked a greater chance of losing him altogether. And then, to captureone of the quintet--or whatever their number might be--would morelikely than not merely serve as a warning for the ring-leader of thecrowd. Doubtless I could drag nothing at all from the fellow, eventhough I did succeed in laying hands upon him. If he had been set towatch me he would continue to do so unless I scared him away. Iresolved to let him alone for the time being; but the first thing I didafter reaching Dr. De Breen's offices was to ring up headquarters andrequest the Captain to send a man to get on my shadow's trail. 

The doctor gave me a bad half-hour. The instant he was through Ihurried to a window to learn how events were progressing in the street. Before I had time to ascertain whether my shadow was still on duty, orwhether the Central Office man had showed up, my whole attention wasabsorbed by the appearance of two familiar figures on the oppositeside. They were Mr. Fluette and Alexander Burke, walking alongtogether in the most intimate manner imaginable. 

I glanced at my watch; it still lacked a minute or two of ten, the hourMr. Fluette had jotted on his calendar along with the extraordinarymemorandum. Inasmuch as he and his strangely chosen companion weremoving rapidly, it was a reasonable assumption that he was even then onhis way to keep his engagement. 

For a moment I stood irresolute. I was very anxious to follow thetwain to the rendezvous, while at the same time I did not want to losemy shadow. I glanced eagerly up and down the street, studying thehurrying crowd on the walk, but could not see him anywhere. Then Ihurried out to the elevator, and within the next minute was dropped tothe ground floor. 

I was obliged to walk fast to get within range of Fluette and Burkeagain--not an easy thing to do among the crowd--but still I could seenothing of my headquarters man, nor of the Jap. And right then Iperceived the last mentioned. He had manifestly only at that instantcaught up with the speculator and his companion--though why I hadfailed to see him before I can't imagine--and he was evidentlyaddressing one or the other, or both of them. 

It seemed to me that the fellow was trying to make his presence asinconspicuous as possible. He strode stolidly along, close behindthem, looking into the shop windows and apparently not noticing the twomen at all. Yet I knew that he was talking to them. I could tell bythe surprised way with which both Fluette and Burke swung round andstared at him. 

I quickened my steps. Yes, the Oriental was talking, and talkingvolubly. And, if I might judge by the consternation and angerreflected in the faces of his two auditors, his message was anythingbut welcome. That is to say, Alfred Fluette's strong features showedthese emotions, while, as always, it was difficult to read what wasgoing on behind Burke's impassive mask. Still it was pretty plain thatthe secretary was utterly at his wits'-end. 

At last the three stopped at a corner, where they moved up close to thebuilding to avoid the rush of pedestrians. I dared not draw nearenough to hope to hear any of their conversation; I could do no morethan watch from a distance, trusting to their absorption to keep themoblivious of my proximity. 

Both were now excitedly questioning the Jap, who seemed to be whollyunmoved by their agitation. Presently Fluette turned angrily uponBurke. From his manner it was not difficult to imagine that he wassoundly berating the secretary, who, whenever he could make himselfheard, was just as plainly attempting to present some extenuatingargument. 

The entire episode was perplexing enough, but what immediately ensuedcaught me unawares. Without the least warning the trio separated, eachhurrying away in a different direction. At this critical juncture avoice said, right at my ear:

"Shall I stick to Burke?--or follow one of the others?"

I jerked my head round to confront Fanshawe, the man detailed to keepBurke under surveillance. I had not observed him before--notsurprising, since he had just caught up with me--but I welcomed hispresence now. 

"Stay with your own man, " I shot at him, and turned to look for theJap. He was gone. 

To make the account of this discomfiting episode as brief as possible, I shall say, merely, that out of the three men whom we were watching, two of them walked away from under our very noses without our havingthe slightest idea in which direction they went. How did they do it?The momentary diversion occasioned by Fanshawe's arrival, the briefdistraction of our attention, had been sufficient. He lost track ofBurke, and I never had so much as another glimpse of the Jap. 

We had the assistance of another headquarters man, too. The one forwhich I had telephoned showed up immediately after Fanshawe addressedme. The last-named skurried away to find Burke, while Pennington, myother colleague, and I devoted our efforts to catching the Jap. 

"One of those Japs has been shadowing me all morning, Pennington, " Iadvised him. "He 's as shifty and evasive as a fox. Fall half a blockbehind me, and if he shows up again give me a signal and close in. Iwant him. "

But he did n't show up. 

It was humiliating to be outwitted by the Oriental--it was the secondtime for me, too; it would be calamitous to lose Burke. The daydragged along, and when each succeeding minute brought no news of himmy anxiety increased by leaps and bounds. Before nightfall, everyavailable man in the department was scouring the city for theex-secretary. 

Subsequent events, however, showed that we might have spared ourselvesall the trouble and worry; for one more pertinacious even than Fanshaweclung to Alexander Burke's heels all that day and night. 

I found time during my purposeless running to and fro to learn thatAlfred Fluette had arrived at his brokers' offices in Quincy Streetshortly after ten, where he remained until the Board of Trade closed, and that Genevieve had left on an afternoon train for a brief visitwith relatives in Merton, Ohio. Fluette had failed in his engagement;Genevieve had kept hers. 

Some time after dark I boarded a Sheridan Park car, and rode out to thePage place; I don't now know why, unless it was because of thedisastrous turn affairs had taken, and that I hoped, in this dismal, dispiriting environment, to find a balm for my depressed feelings. 

It was only that morning, in the midst of a blinding snow-storm, thoroughly disheartened by the loss of the ruby, that Stodger and I hadleft the old house; but as I approached it that night, it bore everyappearance of having been abandoned for years instead of only a fewhours. No smoke curled from the chimneys; no light gleamed at any ofthe windows. In its white setting of snow, it loomed silent andspectral. 

In the afternoon I had turned the keys over to Mr. Page's lawyer, andhow I hoped to effect an entrance--if I had any such intention atall--I have long since forgotten. It may have been because it was herethat I first met Genevieve, that I came mooning through the cold andsnow. She was gone upon a journey; I knew that I could not see her fordays; and perhaps I thought to find some companionship in the moreintimate associations clustered about the dreary spot. At any rate, here I was. And I saw nothing else for me to do than to turn round andgo back to town again. 

However, I started to enter the gate. Next instant I stopped short. The snow bore other tracks besides Stodger's and mine--tracks pointingtoward the house instead of away from it. They were fresh, made sincethe snow ceased. 

I advanced a little farther into the yard, where the tracks had notbeen obliterated by pedestrians on the sidewalk, and soon comprehendedthat they had been made by two men. Were they in the house now? Andif so, who were they? What errand could be so pressing that it wouldbring anybody here on such a night?

My indifference and discouragement fell away from me in a flash. Cautiously I followed the trail up to the front steps, where at first Ifancied it disappeared upon the porch. Still I could not see a glintof light, nor did the most attentive harkening favor me with theslightest sound. 

It occurred to me while I stood pondering on the porch that, after all, Mr. White--Felix Page's lawyer--might have been responsible for thetracks in the snow. It was possible that he had sent somebody to lookafter the place; a caretaker, perhaps, who would stay here until adisposition could be made of the property. 

But this idea no sooner occurred than it was dismissed. All at once Inoticed that one pair of foot-prints, instead of mounting the porchsteps, had turned to one side. They led off to the east, anddisappeared round the wing in that direction. The two persons had notcome in company; the first, I presently concluded, had carried a key, and the second had been following him. There were no retreatingimpresses to indicate that either had departed. 

I tiptoed to the front door and turned the knob. The door did notyield. Then for the first time I recalled the window which ourhousebreakers had forced the night before; unless the latch had beenrepaired during the day, it would be an easy matter to gain access tothe dining-room, which was located in the western wing. 

Now it was the eastern wing or gable which sheltered the library, theconservatory, and Mr. Page's bedroom, and it was thither the secondman's foot-prints led. I followed them round the corner of the house. 

From their appearance it was easy to trace all the mysteriousintruder's movements. Evidently after the door had closed behind thefirst arrival, Number Two had stood for some time at the east end ofthe porch. Then he had moved toward the same end of the house, pausingat every window and trying the sash to ascertain whether it wasfastened. Turning at the corner, he had proceeded along the side ofthe house, still testing the windows and bestowing particular attentionupon the glass conservatory. This was true of every window as far asthe bedroom, at least; beyond that I did not explore. Just as I drewopposite the first of the bedroom windows I came to an abrupt halt. 

There was a light in the room. 

Nor was this all. Some person was in the room, too, and by thesilhouette on the blind I could see that he was industriously applyinghimself to some task, the nature of which I could not determine. Thelonger I watched the shadow on the blind, the more puzzled I grew. Icould imagine no occupation that would account for such singularactions. 

The shadow was a man's; I could distinguish that much. He appeared tobe bending over something, while his hands flew hither and thither, asif they were performing a quick-step upon a piano. But no sound ofmusic came from the lighted room. 

It would be impossible to say how long I stood there, the snow nearlyto my knees, fascinated by the remarkable antics of that shadow. Thenof a sudden the hands ceased flying. The man straightened and becamemotionless, as if startled by some unexpected sound. 

Well, perhaps within the next second he knew what had alarmed him; I 'msure that I did not. The shadow flashed away from the blind. Then myscalp tingled and the blood seemed to freeze in my veins. 

From within the room there came a most unearthly cry. It was weird, terrifying, utterly unlike anything I had ever heard--save once. Forit was a repetition of the wild, inhuman note that had thrilled me whenI first dashed open the bath room door the previous night. 

The terrible cry was not immediately repeated, but for a while theutmost confusion prevailed within. I could hear furniture knocked andslammed about, a tumult of stamping, scraping feet, and once--for thebriefest moment--another shadow was projected upon the blind. 

It was a hideous, squat, dwarfish shadow. Two long gorilla-like armswere upraised in an abandonment of fury. Then came that awful, blood-curdling scream again, and the shadow's owner seemed to plungeheadlong forward. 

Another crash followed. The light was suddenly blotted out. Thesilence was once more absolute. 

CHAPTER XXII

ASHES OF OLD ROMANCE

It was Friday afternoon when Genevieve started on her mission; thefollowing Wednesday morning I received a telegram from her announcingthat she would be home that same afternoon. The interim was souneventful that my note-book mentions only two incidents as beingworthy of preservation. 

Late Friday night the welcome news came to headquarters that AlexanderBurke had been found. He appeared at his lodgings shortly beforemidnight, looking wretchedly ill and exhausted. Saturday morning aphysician was called in, and the whilom secretary was not able toappear upon the streets again until Tuesday. Then it was observed thata change had come over the man. His impassivity had been penetrated atlast; it could no longer hide a nervousness and apprehension which kepthis head perpetually pivoting in backward glances across his shoulder. 

I smiled with satisfaction when Fanshawe told me this. 

"Stay with him, " I said; "it makes no difference whether or not heknows that you are always close behind him. In fact, I want him toknow it; I want to break that man, and I will. "

The other incident referred to was a meeting I succeeded in securingbetween Maillot and Miss Belle--memorable for me as being the firstoccasion upon which I was favored with a glimpse of Mrs. Fluette. 

Sunday afternoon mother and daughter drove up to headquarters in thefamily carriage. Although the girl had been tactful enough to eschew aheavy veil and sombre apparel, it was plain to be seen that the eventwas almost too great an ordeal for even her proud and dauntless spirit. 

Belle descended from the carriage hesitantly, and then stood lookingabout with an air of such helpless terror that I approached--I hadpreviously resolved to keep myself effaced during the visit--andconducted her into the Captain's private office, where Maillot waswaiting. She gave me an embarrassed, beseeching glance, and murmured abarely audible "Thank you. " No more was said. She faltered an instanton the threshold, then, sobbing, rushed in. I made haste to close thedoor and rejoin Mrs. Fluette. 

This lady was slight and frail, with hair as white as snow, and abouther there hung an intangible something which gave me the impressionthat she was a woman who had suffered much. Although I strove to speakcheerfully of the prospects of Maillot's early release, her manner wasquite discouraging to all my overtures. When she spoke at all it wasonly in the faintest of monosyllables--usually with her eyes avoidingmine. She looked at me, when at all, shyly, started at every unusualsound, and trembled during the whole time she sat in the Captain's bigeasy-chair. 

At the end of the allotted half-hour--I was n't very particular overthe number of minutes--Mrs. Fluette's increasing nervousness andimpatience moved me to rap upon the private-room door. Belle emerged, her cheeks white and her eyes swollen with weeping. The poor girlpressed my hand when I helped her into the carriage--clung to itdespairingly, to be exact--and the tears again gushed to her eyes. 

"This is killing me!" she moaned. "Oh, it is! it is! I can't stand itmuch longer. "

"Courage, Miss Fluette, " I undertoned assuasively. "Everything isworking for the best, believe me. "

Ah, but was it? I could not say the words with much assurance. Theydrove away, two sad, harassed women. 

Touching again upon Wednesday afternoon, I was pretty sure that theFluette carriage would meet Genevieve at the station--very likely withBelle, or possibly Mrs. Fluette. In anticipation of this contingency Ihad sent a note to the house with the request that she find an excuseto meet me at the earliest possible moment, for I was all impatience tohear her report. 

But Genevieve had anticipated also. She arrived armed with acommission from the Ohio cousin, the performance of which would brookno delay. So I had a minute alone with her downtown. She had beenthoughtful enough to record a detailed statement of her investigations;it lies before me now as I write; and I shall condense from it thoseportions that are essential to advancing this chronicle. 

In the early '50's Clara Cooper was the belle of the village of Merton. Wooers were many, but favors were few and grudgingly bestowed; and intime all the suitors withdrew, leaving the field clear to AlfredFluette and Felix Page. 

The Coopers and the Fluettes represented the wealth and aristocracy ofthe community, while Felix Page was a poor, struggling young man whoseonly advantages and prospects for the future lay in his indomitablepluck and a resolution that was ready to ride roughshod over allopposition. 

And Clara favored the poor young man. He went forth from Mertonresolved to wrest a fortune from the world and lay it at hissweetheart's feet. She promised to wait for him until he returned withthe fulfilment of his ambitious aims. 

Alas, though, for the fiery Felix: she was not of a very resolutecharacter, being easily influenced by her sterner parents, whosepatrician eyes looked askance upon the presumptuous lover's claims. Besides, Felix was absent--supposedly engaged in his laudableenterprise of wresting a fortune from the world--while Alfred, handsome, polished of manner, patient and persistently attentive, wasever at her elbow. 

Then, too, there was Miss Clara's family, to the last one of themespousing Alfred's cause. In the end the girl allowed herself to driftwith the current. Felix would have accomplished more to his purposehad he remained at home and married Clara, and then gone after thefortune. At any rate, after one or two letters from Felix, whichglowed with hope and boundless zeal, she ceased to hear from him. Doubtless he had come to realize that the wresting operation demandedall his powers; but his silence was easily made to appear of moresignificance than it deserved. It was construed--for Miss Clara, notby her--as indisputable evidence of forgetfulness. Within the year shemarried Alfred Fluette. 

Six years passed. Alfred Fluette had migrated with his bride to thecity. Then Felix Page returned triumphant to Merton. His triumph, however, was short-lived. He was well on the road, even then, to hissubsequent commercial success; a good deal of the wresting had beenaccomplished; but the girl he had steadfastly loved, whom he had neverfor one instant put out of his thoughts, had married his rival. 

To get together most of her report Genevieve had been obliged to laborpatiently and painstakingly; when it came to the events associated withFelix Page's return to his birth-place, her task was suddenlytransformed from one of gleaning to another equally arduous, ofselecting from the plethora of material at her disposal. 

One gathers the idea, after reading it all, that his rage was that of acave-man who returns from the day's hunt to find that his home in thehillside cliff has been despoiled. One thing stands out clear andunmistakable; from that hour his life was embittered, his characterwarped with the shattering of his ideals. He registered a solemn vowof vengeance against Alfred Fluette, then disappeared. 

So much for this portion of the report. Nothing in the subsequentrelations of the two men was now obscure. 

And here, too, we are given a new light upon Alexander Burke, oilingdoor-hinges that he might the better spy upon his employer, patientlyworking out the combination of the hidden safe and running to AlfredFluette with the old love-letters and mementos--for a price, ofcourse, --playing the vindictiveness of the one against the hatred andfear of the other, and scrupling not to gain profit for himselfwhenever and wherever he might. 

But it is proverbial that a woman invariably reserves the mostinteresting and important item for the postscript. And it was so withGenevieve's report. I quote the concluding paragraphs _in toto_. 

On the very first day of my arrival, and from the very first person towhom I confided the nature of my errand, I received the surprisingintelligence that I was not the first to pursue similar inquiries inMerton. Said my informant: "Why, there was a man here two or threeweeks ago, trying to find out all he could about the Pages and theCoopers and the Fluettes. Has some one of them died and left a lot ofmoney?"

I did not think so much of it the first time, but when my second victimtold me the same thing, I sat up and began to take notice. Then Iextended my inquiries so as to cover my mysterious predecessor. 

I soon found out that he had ingratiated himself with everybody inMerton who could give him a scrap of information, and that hisinquiries were all directed to one end; namely, the family histories ofthe Pages, the Coopers, and the Fluettes. 

Then, from all the people I could find who had seen and talked to thisman, I obtained a description of his appearance and (where they wereremembered) his personal peculiarities. One description photographedhim for me:

"A tall, lean, lanky feller--real sandy--hair, eyes, eyelashes, eyebrows--no, he did n't have no eyebrows; but all the rest was thesame light yaller color. He was pale and sickly lookin'--poorman!--and you could n't tell what he was a-lookin' at when he talked toa body. Any kin o' yourn?"

Who was my mysterious predecessor in the field, if he were notAlexander Burke?

Who, indeed!

CHAPTER XXIII

BURKE UNBOSOMS

Eight o'clock Thursday morning: an hour before, Fanshawe had heard witha sigh of relief that I would take his place that morning. I had sincebeen kicking my heels opposite the rooming house where Alexander Burkehad his lodgings. 

At the hour mentioned Burke appeared. I retreated into a shelteringdoorway, and watched him. 

He stood for a moment upon the top step, darting quick glances up anddown the street, and intently scanning the few pedestrians who wereabroad at the time. Then he came rapidly down the steps, and turnedtoward the city. 

The snow muffled my tread, and he did n't hear my approach--did n'tknow of my presence until I tapped him upon the shoulder. 

"Mr. Burke, " said I, "I want you. "

With a quick intake of breath, which sounded like the hiss of a snake, he slewed round and fixed me with his expressionless eyes. Also--tocomplete the simile--his head reared back, like a snake's when it isabout to strike. I don't believe that I ever before found such a keenpleasure in arresting a man. 

"Want me!" he gasped. "What for?"

"Yes, you. " I could not entirely hide my satisfaction. "And becauseyou have reached the end of your rope. I don't intend to stand hereand argue about it, either. "

In a moment the man was calm--all except his gloved hands. A man'shands will, nine times out of ten, betray him in spite of himself. Burke's fingers were twitching, and folding and unfolding withoutcessation. 

"Swift, " he whispered vindictively, "you 'll regret this--so help meGod, you will. Curse you! Why do you persecute me? I 'll go withyou--of course I shall; how can I help myself when I 'm at the mercy ofa brute of a giant, like you?"

"Then shut up, and come along. I 'll just keep a hand under your armuntil we get to headquarters. . . . Never mind!" as he made a move tounbutton his overcoat. "It's cold enough to keep covered. " I hadstruck down the stealthy hand with considerable vigor, and he wincedwith pain. The pale eyes flashed a malignant look at me, andstraightway became inscrutable again. 

Not another word was said until we stood before the clerk at theCentral Office. The matter-of-fact way in which he picked up a pen andpoised it over the police docket, the callous indifference with whichhe inquired the prisoner's name and the nature of the charge, madeBurke flinch for the first time. 

"Wait, Johnson!" I said suddenly to the clerk, as if on second thought. "I don't believe I 'll docket this man yet; I want to keep the pinchquiet for a while. "

The game was familiar to Johnson; he laid aside the pen asindifferently as he had taken it up, and returned to his interruptedperusal of the morning paper. 

"You come with me, " I said to Burke. 

I conducted him to the little room behind the Captain's privateoffice--scene of many a heart-to-heart conference--and pushed himtoward one of the two chairs which constituted the room's solefurnishing. It was a dim, silent, disheartening place, and I wasresolved to have no mercy upon the man whom at last I had succeeded ingetting into a position where I could handle him. 

"Burke, " I began, "I 'm not going to mince matters or stand for anyquibbling or lying. I have _you_ right where I want you, and whateverleniency you may receive will depend entirely upon your frankness. This is your chance--the last one. "

No doubt my expression and manner were grim, I meant them to be andthere was no doubt that my obvious confidence in my position impressedthe ex-secretary; for the fingers grew more agile, and he licked hisdry lips again and again. 

"What am I charged with?" he demanded, in a shaking voice. 

"Nothing, as yet, " I returned cheerfully. "You doubtless noticed thatI dispensed with that little formality. Do you know what that means?Just this: no one knows you are here; there is a certain small cellbelow stairs, dark as Egypt, provided expressly for recalcitrantindividuals. You could lie there for a year, and nobody be a whit thewiser. I, for one, wouldn't care how long you stayed. "

"Swift, " the fellow stammered, "this--this is outrageous!"

"Perhaps, " agreed I, carelessly, surveying him with a narrowed look. "I 'm not here to excuse police methods; they 're not very gentle, I'll admit; but when we deal with crooks we 're obliged to hand them theonly treatment they 're amenable to. 

"Burke, you can't excite one bit of pity or sympathy in me for you, forI know you to be a cold-blooded, treacherous scoundrel, and whateveryou have coming to you is only what you deserve. I 'm fixed to put youthrough as a principal in the murder of Page--sit down!" I thundered athim, for he had started to rise from his seat. He dropped back limply. "You wait till I 'm through. Your chance is coming in just about aminute. I promise not to interrupt--as long as you tell astraightforward story. 

"As I said, " I went on, "I 'm prepared to put you through as one of theprincipals; the bare fact of your arrest should be enough to convinceyou of my readiness. 

"However, while I have n't any desire to spare you, we are in the habitof trading leniency to a rascal who is willing to turn State'sevidence. It's a plain business proposition. "

I imagined that he perked up a bit at this. 

"Ah, then you are not so sure, " he seemed to muse; "you would have meconvict myself for your precious benefit. "

"Maybe you can judge better before I have finished, " returned I, unmoved. "You need not tell me anything about yourself, but I do needa few facts to complete my case against the others who were involved inthis crime. It's up to you. "

I retreated a step, folded my arms, and stood watching him--andwaiting. I knew that he could n't tell the truth without filling inthe gaps in his own case. I never am deterred by any compunction overthe methods I am sometimes obliged to use to make an individual, whom Iknow deserves no consideration, speak. With a knave like Burke I wouldas lief resort to thumb-screws, the boot, the rack, or even to chokingthe words from him, as to trust to persuasion alone. To tell thetruth, my preference lies with the means first enumerated: they aremuch more prompt and direct. The worst indictment that one may bringagainst the old-time torture is that it was not applied with judgmentand discrimination, nor always confined to legitimate ends. I fearthat I shock you. But I am not by any means a cruel, blood-thirstyperson. I merely speak from long years of experience. Whenever I heara misguided soul deploring the so-called "third degree"--why, I havesomething in pickle for _him_. 

This, however, is not the place to open the pickle-jar. 

Perhaps, though, Burke's suffering was as poignant as if his ordealwere physical. How restlessly the man's slender, bloodless fingerscurled and uncurled! Still, his self-control was wonderful; his whiteface remained indecipherable, the pale eyes stared at me unblinkinglyand without mirroring a single emotion that I could discern. Then thechange came so quickly that it almost caught me off my guard. 

One hand shot to his bosom. When it re-appeared something flasheddully in the dim light. At the same time, with a cat-like spring, hewas out of his chair and upon me. 

I concentrated all my attention upon the hand that held the murderousknife. I caught it as it lunged at me; then, with a quick twist, Ibent it backward and behind him, until he groaned with pain. Thelong-bladed knife clattered to the floor, and I shoved him roughly awayfrom me. Then I picked up the weapon. 

The fellow acted for all the world like a whipped and cowed panther. He brought up violently against the wall, where, in a stooping posture, he commenced running to and fro the width of the room, spitting andsnarling venomously. The pale eyes were no longer blank. The pupilshad widened, and the look of them was deadly. 

I smiled with quiet satisfaction, for I knew that Burke was--as wespecify it in police parlance--"coming through. "

After a while he quieted, and at last stood panting in the cornerfarthest away from me. I pointed to the chair. 

"Sit down, " I said, precisely as if he had n't tried his best to murderme but a minute before. 

He moved slowly--fearfully--toward the chair, and sank into it. Hishead was dropped forward, his shoulders were bowed, and the fingerswere no longer restless. All the man's defences were at last down. 

"Now, then, Burke, " I went on calmly, "I suppose we are ready to getdown to business?"

He muttered inaudibly, without raising his head. 

"What's that?"--sharply, "You devil!" he whispered. 

"Yes, yes, I know. I 've heard that from you before. I don't care tohear it again. " I advanced and stood threateningly over him. 

"Look at me, " I sternly commanded. 

Slowly he raised his head until his eyes met mine. The pallid mask waspinched, and it wore a look of torment. 

"Once for all, Burke, are you going to speak?" I suppose the quietnesswith which I uttered it was ominous to the wretch. "Or will I beobliged to drag you to that cell of which I spoke?"

With a quick gesture, he outspread his arms. 

"Enough, Swift, enough!" he cried, in a hoarse, distressed voice. "Iknow when I 'm beaten; I 'll give up. What do you want?"

"Good, " without alteration of tone or manner. "Let's go to apleasanter place. " And we went into the Captain's private room, wherea stenographer sat concealed by a screen. 

Burke dropped into a chair. I thrust my hands into my coat pockets, and as I slowly paced to and fro, addressed him. 

"I 'll tell my story. When I 'm wrong you may correct me. See thatyou do it, too, because you won't know when I 'm testing you or when Iam really ignorant of the facts. You see how much I trust you, Mr. Burke. 

"To begin at the beginning, your first treacherous act toward youremployer was when you determined to steal the Paternoster ruby, andstarted in to hunt for it. You had your work all cut out for you, too, Burke; Felix Page was no fool; he would n't trust the safekeeping of sovaluable an object even to his confidential clerk, nor could that clerksearch for it with impunity. 

"You 've been gifted with the same brand of patience, though, Burke, that keeps a cat glued to a rat-hole for hours upon end; you bided yourtime. And you never let an opportunity slip by you, either. 

"Felix Page was in the habit of talking to himself--a trait notuncommon to people who live much to themselves--so you oiled thedoor-hinges in order that you might steal upon him undetected, from anypart of the house, and listen to his self-communings. No wonder, whenyou talked with me, that you were fearful of the curtained alcove!

"But I 'll be brief. By and by you learned of the hidden safe;then--still with infinite patience--you set about trying to discoverits combination. You succeeded. "

I halted abruptly in front of him. 

"Burke, the opening of that safe door was a revelation; it offered newpossibilities which must have overwhelmed you. What did you think whenyour eyes first fell upon those old love mementos from Clara Cooper toFelix Page? Don't look astonished so soon; wait till I 'm done. I 'llhave no difficulty convincing you that my case against you is prettycomplete. 

"But your find was extremely aggravating, for you were afraid to makeuse of it. Without doubt, Alfred Fluette would give a pretty penny toget them from Felix Page. But you lacked sand to brave Page's wrath. 

"Then what did you do?" I paused to eye him a moment. "Why, you wentdown to Merton and dug up all the old family skeletons. Now you weresurer of your ground; you were ready to levy tribute--blackmail--notfrom Page, though, because he would have promptly kicked you out--butagain your nerve failed you. That's where you have fallen down, Burke, all the way through. You carried a letter or two to Fluette to proveyour claims; then, before their loss was discovered, you brought themback again, and replaced them in the safe. Oh, that old man, in hislifetime, inspired a wholesome fear of him in your soul. "

Then, circumstantially, I detailed as a statement of the case, myreconstruction of the tragic night, concluding with his hiding the rubyin the bar of soap. At this point I suddenly wheeled upon him, andasked point-blank:

"Tell me what you were doing in Mr. Page's bedroom Friday night, andwhat it was that surprised you there?"

He stared at me in amazement. He had been, whilst I was talking, slowly regaining his self-possession--crawling into himself, as itwere, and pulling down the blinds; and now, when he spoke, it was withsomething of his old manner. 

"Swift, my biggest blunder was in underestimating your intelligence. Ithought I could play hob with you; but I was a fool. " His face gave mea certain impression of slyness, which I did n't at all like. 

"Careful now, " I sharply warned. 

He sat silent for a moment, then spoke. 

"I 'm not taking any more chances. Swift; don't worry. . . . What wasI doing Friday night? I was hunting for the ruby. "

"Look here, "--impatiently. "I thought you had trifled enough. "

He raised a protesting hand. 

"Let me finish. Friday was the first time since Mr. Page's death thatI have managed to shake off the man who has been following me. When Ibecame convinced that I really had succeeded in doing so, I stayedunder cover until nightfall; then--well, you yourself have said that I'm an opportunist. I did n't know the cake of soap had been removedfrom the bath room; when I discovered it was not there I supposed youhad found the ruby's hiding-place, and that you had concealed itelsewhere. I was trying to find it, when--when somebody came in. "

"One of the Japanese, " I supplied. 

"They 're not Japanese, " he corrected, with a provoking air of superiorknowledge. "They are Burmese. "

"Whatever they are, you have been playing them and Fluette against eachother. Burke, I suppose you can't help lying; it comes easier for youthan telling the truth. You know that those fellows managed to stealthe bar of soap--"

"While you were watching it, " he interpolated. 

"--and, " I went on, ignoring the thrust, "they notified you and Fluetteof the fact Friday morning. "

"Yes, " he said slowly, after a pause, "they told us they had securedthe bar of soap. "

"If that's so, " I fixed him with a level look, "why did theintelligence floor you so?"

"You draw your conclusions so admirably that you ought to be able tosupply the answer to that question yourself. "

"I 'm not here for that purpose, "--curtly. "Come, speak up. "

He sat for a long while silent; then, --

"Well, " said he, "it would come as a shock to any man to be bluntlytold that he had just been deprived of a fortune. Mr. Fluette, confident that he was within a step of securing the stone, blamed mewith being the cause of his disappointment. "

The fellow's demeanor angered me beyond endurance. 

"Burke, " I cried heatedly, "do you think you can make me believe that aman of Alfred Fluette's calibre would purchase the Paternoster rubyfrom you, knowing that it was not yours to sell? Bah!" I was filledwith disgust. 

"Ah, Swift, Swift, " the rogue said, complacently wagging his head atme, "there are some things of which even you are ignorant. 

"Here is one of them--listen: the Paternoster ruby was no more FelixPage's than it is yours or mine. It is the property of the king ofBurma; it was stolen from him years ago, and the Burmese nobleman whois at present in this country with his retinue--"

"Tshen-byo-yen, " I said quietly, and had the satisfaction of beholdingMr. Burke favor me with a startled glance. 

"Yes, " he pursued, with considerably less assurance, "that's his name. "

"And one of the 'retinue, ' as you are pleased to call his gang ofthugs, is that hideous, misshapen monster that shrieks like a ghoul. Isuppose that he too was hunting for the ruby Friday night--after havingstolen it the night before. " My sarcasm failed to touch Burke. Heshuddered, saying:

"The dwarf? He's a mute--Tshen's slave. Tongue 's been torn out. And--truly--believe me; you may easily verify what I say--Tshen is theproperly accredited representative of the king of Burma, invested withfull power and authority to dispose of the stone. Does the fact thatit was stolen from his royal master--that it has for some years beenout of the king's possession--in any way lessen or invalidate his rightto it? Surely you would not dispute that?"

"I don't propose debating the matter with you. " And then I pointedout: "If his claim is good, there are the courts. "

Burke's shoulders twitched in a tiny shrug. 

"Who can fathom the Oriental mind?" said he, oracularly. 

I swung on my heel squarely away from him; I had no more patience forsuch shuffling with words. 

"You come with me, " I said curtly; "I 'll at least get you straight onthe police docket--since you seem to prefer it to frankness. "

He was out of his chair like a flash. 

"No--no--no, Swift!" he implored. "I swear I'm telling the truth. Notthat I--not that!" He hesitated a second. 

"It was n't the ruby that was in the bar of soap"--the words literallydragged from his lips. "_I_ thought it was. But it was only the pasteimitation. "

CHAPTER XXIV

CONFESSION

I stared at Burke in speechless amazement. 

The tremendous possibilities opened up by this revelation left mebewildered. But the wave of joy which suddenly swept over me wasunmistakable. 

"Then, how--" I began, and stopped. 

If I could not understand, it was only too clear that Burke could nottell me what I wanted to know; for it was also plain that he too wasutterly at a loss to account for the circumstance. This, then, hadbeen the intelligence imparted by the Burman on Friday morning, whichhad so upset Fluette and Burke. 

But again, why in the first place should Burke have informed theBurmese of the supposed gem's hiding-place? And how could it have beenthe replica instead of the real stone? The whole thing was fraughtwith many perplexities; something here, which I could not seize upon, flaunted itself in obscurity, and if I wanted to learn more from Burkeit would not do for him to discover how far I was at sea. Was itpossible that he still fostered a hope of getting his fingers upon thereal gem?

I was again surveying him with a cold, suspicious eye. 

"Burke, " I said, "just how did you come to put the gem--or the pastereplica--in the soap?"

For a long time he sat contemplating his hand, first the back and thenthe palm, and then closing the fingers and scrutinizing the nails. Finally, with another shrug and a little gesture in which I readresignation, he said:

"I might as well tell it. As you say, I knew the jewel-box--and Ihonestly thought it contained the ruby--and the Clara Cooper letterswere in the safe, and I never had an opportunity to take them tillTuesday night a week ago. The assurance that Page was going to Duluththat night, combined with the backing Tshen would give me, put me in aposition where I could take the ruby and defy Page. I was so sure thatPage was going to Duluth that night that I arranged a meeting betweenFluette and the Burman at Page's house. 

"For you surmised correctly when you declared that Fluette would notbuy the ruby on the strength of my representations alone. The purposeof that meeting was to convince Fluette of the good faith of Tshen'sclaim to the stone, whereupon I was to procure it from the safe--theletters, too--and he was to pay over a certain sum of money for them. "

"How much?" I bluntly demanded. 

"Two hundred thousand dollars. "

So this was the reason why Alfred Fluette must needs help himself toGenevieve's patrimony. That rapacious monster, the Wheat Pit, hadexhausted all of his legitimate resources, and so mad was his obsessionthat he scrupled not to steal. 

I entertained only hard feelings for him at that moment. He had notbought the ruby, however, and doubtless Genevieve's fortune was stillintact. 

"Go on, " I commanded curtly. "What happened then?"

"Well, Maillot's arrival demoralized everything. Fluette was to comeat ten o'clock, and Tshen at ten-thirty. I did n't know what to do. Ihad no way of getting them word at that time of night, and I soonrealized that Page had given over the trip. I contrived, however, tosmuggle all of them up to my room, without anybody being the wiser. 

"I explained the state of affairs, and assured them that I would fulfilmy part of the agreement as soon as Page and Maillot retired and thehouse grew quiet. 

"Some time after eleven I heard Page and Maillot coming up-stairs. Thelight was out in my room, and, peering through the crack of my door, Iwatched Page bid Maillot good-night. The old man was holding a lightedcandle in one hand and the small leather box in the other. I _know_ itwas the ruby he showed Maillot--"

"I suppose you were in the curtained alcove while he and Maillot weretalking, " I interrupted. 

"Not all the time; I didn't dare be. The old man was as sharp as afox. He didn't trust anybody. 

"However, I carried out my part of the programme, all right; but justas I reached the top of the stairs I felt the magnetism of somebody'spresence. I looked back and saw Page--he looked positivelydiabolical--following me. How he enjoyed catching anybody in such apredicament!"

"And then?"

"Well, then--why, I must have lost my head. I started for my room, butthe old man commanded me to stop, and I stopped. People generally didwhen Page told them to. Fluette heard him and came into the hall tolearn what was the matter. Page could not see him then because of theangle in the corridor, and the old man paused by the _étagère_ to lightthe candle in the iron candlestick. 

"After that the old man walked right up to me and held out his hand forthe box and the bundle of letters; but before I had time to give themto him, Fluette rushed in between us. His appearance startled the oldman so that he recoiled a pace or two. This gave Fluette theopportunity he needed to take the things from me. He smiled at Page, and said:

"'By God, Felix Page, you sha'n't thwart me this time; for once I 'vegot the upper-hand of you, and I mean to keep it. ' Fluette, you see, had put in the time while waiting in my room listening to Tshen's storyand examining his credentials. 

"That infuriated Page so that he went clear off his head. He set downthe iron candlestick upon the floor, and plunged right into Fluette. Quicker than you can think, they were wrestling furiously for the boxand the bundle of letters. 

"'I ran into my room and told Tshen what was going on. Three of hisparty were with him, and they were all so excited that I could scarcelydo anything with them. Next I ran back into the hall, where the twomen were still struggling and threshing about. They saved their breathfor their exertions, each trying with might and main to wrest theprecious package from the other. 

"All at once the jewel-box was wrenched open. The ruby--or what Ithought was the ruby--flew out and fell at my feet. I stooped in aflash and picked it up. As I straightened upright, I saw that Page hadsucceeded in recovering the jewel-case, although Fluette had theletters. With an oath, Page cast the empty box away from him. 'I 'llcut your heart out for that!' he snarled, and started for Fluette. Fluette hastily jabbed the letters into his coat pocket, grabbed up thecandlestick and threw it above his head. The light was extinguished, and the candlestick crushed upon Page's head. 

"It was an inspiration that made me press the ruby into the soap; Icould n't have found a better hiding-place if I had searched the houseover. "

I was no longer heeding him. The last doubt had been removed. Afterall, then, Alfred Fluette was the guilty man. 

My heart ached for the three women upon whom the blow would fall thehardest. The tangle was unravelling in accord with my theory. I hadwarned Genevieve of what she might expect--indeed, she had apprehendedthe probable outcome herself; it had been hopeless to attempt toprepare Belle. But all this failed to relieve the situation any. 

However, the ruby presently rose uppermost in my mind, and with it camea conviction that Burke had not told me everything that he might haverespecting the gem. If it had not been in the bar of soap, where wasit? Then light flashed upon the enigma. 

Burke and the Burmese had been afforded more time than I in which tospeculate upon the substitution of the false for the genuine stone, andBurke had not gone inconsiderately to the Page place on Friday night, but, quite the reverse, to prosecute a definite plan of search. Hownear he came to the goal I did n't appreciate till later. 

The discovery by the Burmese that the soap contained merely the pastereplica, made them suspect Burke of duplicity. Hence, after Fanshaweand I lost them Friday morning, the Burman had continued to dog theex-secretary until relieved some time during the day by the misshapendwarf, who, in turn, had followed him to the Page place after nightfall. 

The mute--whose ugly visage Genevieve had seen at the alcovecurtains--had attacked him, perhaps in the belief that Burke had foundthe gem, and that he had been deceiving them respecting it. 

It was this struggle in the bedroom which had created such a tumult, frightening Burke within an inch of his life, and driving him pellmellaway and to his bed, where he had remained until the following Tuesday. Both had utterly vanished by the time I effected an entrance to thehouse. 

"I can truthfully say, Burke, " I confided, "that I never underestimatedyour intelligence. You did not go blindly to the Page place Fridaynight. You reasoned that, if Mr. Page displayed the genuine ruby toMaillot, and if the jewel-case contained only the replica when yourobbed the safe an hour or so later, why, the substitution must haveoccurred somewhere between the library table, where Maillot and Pagehad been sitting, and the safe. Consequently you were encouraged bythe assurance that the scope of your search would be restricted. 

"I believe you argued correctly. And to keep you out of furthermischief, or from setting your precious Burmese upon me again, why, youmay stay here a while and think over it. "

Despite his protestations, when I left headquarters the last glimpse Ihad of him was through the bars of a cell door. 

I went directly to the Fluette residence to inform Genevieve that herapprehensions and uncertainties had at last crystallized into dreadreality. I shall not dwell upon this wretched conference; it is quiteenough to say that the poor girl was torn with grief, yet not whollyconvinced. 

"Knowles, "--she was clinging to my arm, her voice hoarse anddistressed, --"it is too terrible--too monstrous for belief. I can notdo it--can't believe it--unless I hear the words from Uncle Alfred'sown lips. He is here now; he did n't go down-town to-day. Thehorrible charge has been made--confront him with it. He's up-stairswith Aunt Clara. "

"Very well, " I quietly returned. "You go and ask him, as calmly aspossible, to come down to his study. Don't alarm Miss Belle or hermother; it may not be necessary. "

Moving blindly toward the stairs, she paused on the first landing andturned to me a tragic face. 

"Courage!" I whispered. 

Then she found the strength to carry her on to the end of her revulsiveerrand. I went direct to the study, and waited. 

Fluette came in hastily, his manner wild, his face white and haggard. Genevieve, distressed and heart-broken, followed close behind him. Sheclosed the door. The man began speaking at once, incoherently, in aharsh, strident whisper that signified constricted throat muscles. 

"So! It's come at last! You--keep it from--from--my God! keep it frommy wife and daughter!"

I answered him roughly, in an attempt to keep him from breakingcompletely down. 

"Pull yourself together, man! What sort of way is this to act?" Isurveyed his abject figure an instant, then added with some bitterness:"It is not I that you fear, but your own conscience. "

I was thinking of the women. 

He slumped into a chair, clasped his out-stretched hands upon thewriting-table, and allowed his head to droop between his arms. At thatmoment I heard Belle calling "Papa!" She was running lightly down thestairs. Again she called, and I knew that she was coming swiftlytoward the library. 

Genevieve made a move as if to bolt the door, but I checked her with agesture. Of what use would it be to bar the way of her who came soimpulsively? The dreadful truth must be broken to her. It was a taskthat no third person might assume; let her hear it wrung from herfather's unwilling lips. 

"Papa!" She was approaching quickly. How youthful and self-relianther voice sounded! The sweet, girlish contralto jarred painfully uponat least two of our tense, waiting group. And Belle continued toadvance all unsuspectingly. 

"Papa, where are you? Why don't you answer?"

Genevieve ran over to her uncle, and laid one arm across his bowedshoulders. 

"Uncle! Uncle!" She shook him, striving in an agitated way to rousehim to a sense of realization. "Uncle! Sit up! Don't go all topieces, this way! Belle is at the door!"

[Illustration: "Uncle, Uncle! Sit up! Don't go to pieces this way"]

And sure enough, as the bent figure painfully straightened a light rapsounded upon the panel, and Belle's fresh young voice again called:

"Are you in there, papa? May I come in?"

Genevieve drew suddenly back to a shadowed corner, wringing her handswith a helpless, despairing gesture. Fluette rose unsteadily to hisfeet. Then the door opened, and Belle stood framed in the doorway. 

The man's look darted feverishly between the two girls--Genevievewell-nigh overcome, while the smile on Belle's handsome face quicklygave way to an expression of bewilderment, and then to a dawning one ofalarm. Next she rushed into the room, and stopped abruptly. Bending alook of anxious inquiry first upon her cousin and then upon me, shefinally confronted her father. 

"Papa, " she faltered, her voice quaking with the fear that suddenlygripped her heart, "what is it? What does this mean?" Then, as shestarted blindly toward him, she uttered one piercing, agonizing cry:"Papa!"

Unconsciously he brushed aside her beseeching arms. He did not answerher directly; his words were a response to the charge that I had notyet made. 

"Man, you are right, " he said huskily, "it is my conscience. It is notyou that accuse me, but the pure eyes of these two innocent girls--theunspoken reproach of that broken, white-haired woman who sits insilence up-stairs--those fling the charge into my face--sear it into myvery soul--every minute of the day and night. 

"Take me. I am guilty. It was I who killed Felix Page. "

CHAPTER XXV

"THIMBLE, THIMBLE----"

It is needless to dwell upon the scene in Alfred Fluette's study; Ishall take up merely such details as constitute an integral part ofthis memoir, and hurry along. 

After Genevieve had led Belle away, Mr. Fluette quickly masteredhimself. The bitter moment of the confession once passed, it seemed asif his mind had been relieved of a great burden, and he talked to mewith comparative unreserve. But his appearance was in pitiablecontrast with what it must have been before he wandered into deviousways. He was crushed, his mien one of hopeless submission to whateverthe future might have in store for him. 

"First of all, " he began, with impressive earnestness, "I want toemphasize the fact that when I snuffed out that man's life I was inimminent peril of my own. When I snatched up the candlestick, if evera man had murder in his heart Felix Page had at that moment. 

"The rest was automatic; I could no more have stayed the deadly blowthan I can now hope to escape its consequences. Revolt from almost alifetime of pitiless, persistent persecution filled me with anirresistible impulse to destroy and rendered my arm invincible. "

I went with him, step by step, over the ground that is alreadyfamiliar. Felix Page had ever been the thorn in his flesh. 

"It wasn't as if I had a tangible enemy, " he declared; "he would n'tcome out into the open and fight. His aims were always petty, heperpetually annoyed and harassed me by mean and ignoble ways, which Iwas obliged to bear with an assumption of ignoring them, or else lowermyself to his level to meet them. Any bold, decisive stroke would atleast have won my respect; but no, the cunning hound knew that mydisposition could not forever turn aside his sly thrusts; he knew that, by degrees but inevitably, he was warping my nature, slowly but surelydestroying all that was best in me. 

"Well, " bitterly, "he has succeeded. He has ruined me not onlyfinancially, but body and soul as well. 

"Time and time again he flaunted in my face some old letters which mywife wrote when she was a mere girl. They were such as any artless, inexperienced girl might write to a man who has for the moment capturedher fancy; but how could that be made clear to a public ever greedy forscandal? How would those letters read in the light of my wife's yearsand the dignity of her present position? Yet the scoundrel hasthreatened me times without number that he would scatter them broadcast. 

"Then--the ruby: that was a crowning stroke. He deliberately steppedin and wrested it from my grasp simply because he in some way found outthat I had set my heart upon it for my collection. It was as if heperpetually had his fingers upon the pulse of my desires andintentions; he seemed to divine and anticipate my every move. 

"But I was soon reconciled to the stone's loss, and I would haveremained so had it not been for that creature, Burke. When he put theidea into my mind that perhaps Page had no legal title to it, I wastempted--and I fell. He presented to me too good an opportunity toretaliate for me to let it pass. 

"It was a foolish thing for me to do, going to his house that fatalTuesday night; but there was no other way. Burke was willing toprocure the stone from its hiding-place, but flatly refused to assumethe risk of conveying it through the streets. Page was to be away fromtown that night, so in an evil moment I decided to take the chance. 

"You know what happened. I failed to get the gem that night; yourunrelaxing vigilance prevented Burke from getting at where he supposedhe had hidden it, and at last the Burmese determined to make theattempt Thursday night. Friday morning I was to have again metTshen-byo-yen to close the deal for the stone, when one of his henchmennotified Burke and me that the attempt had been a failure, that theyhad succeeded in securing only the replica. We both charged Burke withdouble-dealing. "

I started suddenly at his last words; a possibility had flashed into mymind, so huge and significant that I could comprehend it only bydegrees. I spoke with quick eagerness. 

"Mr. Fluette, do you think the Burmese would have devoted all theseyears to recovering the jewel, if they were willing to sell it to thefirst would-be purchaser that happened along? Doesn't that strikeyou as a bit peculiar?--as being inconsistent with their unflaggingzeal, their tireless efforts to regain what they contend was oncestolen from them? Those fellows are very far from home, please bear inmind. "

"I never before regarded it in that light, " he thoughtfully returned. 

He was not interested, and did not press me for an explanation. Buthis suggestion of Burke's double-dealing had given me an idea which wasclearing away one dark corner of the puzzle: the possibility wasopening up more rapidly. I looked at him shrewdly. 

"Just how did Maillot's story of his experience with Page impress you?"I asked. 

He gave me a quick glance. 

"It was amazing. I could not believe that Maillot was wilfullyfabricating; yet, to accept his extraordinary story left me, as theonly alternative, a conviction that Felix Page had either undergone achange of heart, or else had lost his mind. "

"It did n't occur to you that Page might be trying a game of his own?"

"No. "

"Did you ever see the replica?" I asked. 

"Yes, many times. It is a remarkably excellent imitation--silicate ofalumina; the weight, color, and hardness, the measurements--table, girdle, and _culasse_--all correspond exactly with the original. Itlacks only in density, and perhaps a trifle in--but no; it wouldrequire an expert test to determine that it was not a true ruby. "

"Then, " I eagerly pursued, "even an expert might be imposed upon by thereplica?"

"Well, " he slowly admitted, "perhaps--yes. But not for long; men whodeal in precious stones after a time develop a sort of sixth sense thatprotects them against imposition. It is too subtle to define; but anydiamond merchant will tell you that the most perfect imitation willraise a doubt in his mind as to its genuineness; a true stone, never. "

When I considered his special knowledge of the subject in general, andof the Paternoster ruby in particular, I was astounded at hisobtuseness. Later, I was no less astounded at my own. 

"Is it possible, Mr. Fluette, " I went on, with an enthusiasm which hedid not in the least share, "that it never occurred to you what Burke'sgame might be? With the connivance of these Burmese, he wasdeliberately attempting to swindle you; he meant to practise the oldfamiliar game of 'switching' the false for the real stone. The Burmesewant the stone, not the money without the stone; but for a generousshare in the proceeds, they were willing to lend themselves to Burke'sfraud. There 's the Oriental for you. "

The man stared at me dully. I continued, warming with the subject. 

"And Felix Page--he was craftier than even you give him credit for. Mr. Fluette, there 's nothing extraordinary in Maillot's story of hisTuesday night adventure--except our stupidity in comprehending its realsignificance. 

"Remember Page's strict injunction to Maillot not to let the jewel-caseout of his possession until he and Miss Belle were married; think ofthe alacrity with which he acceded to Maillot's request; think of hissly chuckles and furtive manner, of his attitude during the whole ofthat remarkable conference, and tell me what it means if he, too, didn't intend palming off the false stone on you? Maillot and MissBelle once married, then the young man--in complete innocence, to besure--would have handed you, not the ruby, but--the replica. "

Slowly the dull look died out in Alfred Fluette's eyes, and in spite ofhis distress, his face flushed darkly with anger. 

"The hound!" he muttered through his clenched teeth. "What a dupe I've been. But, " he added, with kindling interest, "where _is_ theruby, then?"

"Ah, precisely. That's what I would like to know myself. I think, however, I have the key that will unlock its hiding-place, when I learnhow to use it. " And I showed him the cipher. He shook his head overit; it was utterly meaningless to him. 

There was one phase of our conference concerning which I insisted thatthe wretched man be minutely circumstantial. Our talk touching uponthis point was much too painful for me to reproduce here in itsentirety; but after I had almost literally dragged from him everyminute detail of the actual tragedy, I felt justified in offering aword of encouragement. 

It is sufficient simply to record now the point brought out, tosupplement it with certain details acquired from Burke, and to statethat it had a vital bearing upon the outcome of the case. The Pageaffair was by no means closed yet. 

When Mr. Fluette struck the blow with the candlestick he was standingat the angle of the balustrade nearest the rooms which Burke andMaillot were occupying. Mr. Page was facing in that direction--thatis, toward the west--and consequently his left side was opposed to thebalustrade. Such were the respective positions of the two men at theinstant the candlestick was snatched from the floor. 

Immediately after the blow was struck both Burke and Fluette werethrown into a panic. The latter at once ran wildly down the frontstairs, stumbling over the body on the landing, and out at the frontdoor and away. Burke followed hastily after him, his teeth chatteringwith fright, and promptly bolted the front door. The act wasaccomplished so soon after the flight that Fluette, overcome withhorror at his deed, distinctly heard the bolt shoot while he wasspeeding down the walk. 

Burke had already informed me that after he made fast the front door heran back to the rear stairs--he was afraid to pass again the body onthe landing--where he observed the rear door wide-open. This he alsoclosed and locked, then hurried up to the second floor, being governedby only one idea--to secure, as quickly as he possibly could, Maillot'scompanionship. 

Between the instant he started to follow Fluette down-stairs and thetime he stood rapping at Maillot's door, he had consumed much less thana minute. Some time later he thought of the Burmese, but when helooked into his room it was empty. The open back door accounted fortheir absence. 

When I departed from Alfred Fluette--and I did that very thing; walkeddeliberately away from him, leaving him hopeful in the midst of hishousehold--my heart was exultant, although I had in contemplation atask that might have dismayed Hercules. 

But sometimes, usually when we are least expecting it, or when we aregetting our affairs into too much of a muddle. Providence intervenes, and with a decisive stroke straightens matters out for us. After all, it is ridiculous wasting so much time and energy in rough-hewing ourends, when the shaping lies with other hands than ours. On this day ofdays Providence appeared in the guise of Dr. Wentworth De Breen. 

His buggy drew up at the curb beside me. 

"Hullo!" was his gruff salutation. 

I was pleased at the meeting. 

"The very man I was wanting to see, " said I. "How many hospitals arethere in the city and the immediate vicinity?"

He eyed me in his customary serious, intent manner. I amplified:

"I have n't the least idea, you know. Perhaps I could name a dozen, perhaps a score; but there might be five hundred. Anyhow, I have tosearch them all--or, until I find what I want. "

"The deuce you have!" he jerked out. "Anything to do with your rubycase?"

"Everything, " said I. 

"Well!" He stared at me a moment, then with a sudden movement whippedthe fur lap-robe aside. "Get in here, " he commanded, in his abruptmanner. 

The next instant I was seated beside him, and his spirited mare wasdashing along the street at a pace which I regarded as altogether tooreckless. Dr. De Breen had a weakness for spirited horses, and hehandled them with a careless ease that never failed to excite in me asecret envy; for--I here confess it--I always have been a bit afraid ofhorses, whether spirited or not; not much, but just enough to make mecautious. I never take any liberties with even a blind and spavinedderelict. 

"What d'ye want to find?" he bluntly asked, after we had ridden thebetter part of five minutes in silence. 

"A disabled Burmese, " was the reply. "I trust to find some part of hisupper-works in a more or less damaged condition. "

"Burmese!" he echoed in an exclamation. "Good. I win. Larrimer betme a five he was a Javanese. " The doctor sniffed scornfully, "Devilishlot Larrimer knows about ethnology. " He then became lucid. 

"Larrimer's head at the Drevel Hospital, y' know; deuced clever at theoperating-table, but set in his ideas. Lord, dynamite would n't movehim; stubborn's no name for it. 

"Your Burmese is there: triple fracture of the left parietal, leftclavicle and bladebone badly crushed; trephined him last night. Beggar'll die. "

"It certainly sounds serious enough, " commented I. "Is the parietal apart of his upper-works?"

He jabbed with the tip of one gloved finger the side of my head nearesthim, which happened to be the right. 

"That's your right parietal, " he explained; "the left one 's on theother side. "

"Thank Heaven for sending you across my path this day!"--fervently. "That's my man. "

The doctor was a good deal of a scoffer. "Heaven had nothing to dowith it, " said he, with unnecessary asperity. "I knew you 'd bewanting to see him; I was hunting for you. Beggar speaks Englishfairly well, and he let out a word or two that made me think he knewsomething you ought to know. . . . Whoa! Jump out!"

We entered the hospital, and soon were at the bedside of the dying man. The operation had relieved the brain from the pressure of the fracturedskull, and the man's wanderings were interspersed with rationalperiods, during which his story was taken down in shorthand, withinfinite difficulty, by the hospital's stenographer. I have taken theliberty of preparing a summary from the long rambling account, sufficient to show my justification for anticipating that the case wason the eve of taking an unexpected turn, and to satisfy the curiousrespecting certain aspects of the ruby's history. 

The man, whose name was Chaya, was a priest of the temple at Tounghain, Upper Burma, "where the sublime Da-Fou-Jan sits in eternal meditationamong the thousand caverns that lie beyond Mandalay. " His companionswere also priests, and Tshen-byo-yen was a wealthy noble of thedistrict, whose family was accountable to the king for the safeguardingof the temple's sacred relic--the "Heart of Budda. " Thus was the greatruby known, and the rich crimson jewel was averred by tradition to benothing less holy than the actual blood of "the Perfectly EnlightenedOne, " bestowed upon mankind in an imperishable form. 

Naturally, the gem was greatly venerated and not to be profaned byimpious hands. But in the time of Tshen's father, it was stolen fromthe temple by an English adventurer, who succeeded in escaping out ofthe country with it and making his way to London. 

However, a curse went with the ruby. In the temple its influence wasbeneficent, its crimson glow benignant and abounding with blessings forall true believers; but when desecrated by the plundering vandal'stouch it became a great power for evil. 

Therefore it came to pass that by the time the reckless Englishman setfoot upon his native soil he was only too glad to part with hisill-gotten treasure at almost any price. He was in rags, starving andbroken in health. 

Thus it was that the rough, uncut gem passed into the possession ofLuca Paternostro. 

The recovery of the Heart of Budda straightway became a sacred chargeupon all the priests. Tshen's father devoted his entire fortune to thecause. With infinite patience, laboring tirelessly, the Burmese neverlost sight of their precious relic; but in England they soon found thatconditions were vastly different from those of their home country. Itwas impossible to approach the object which they coveted; and theiropinion of legal redress was based upon their familiarity with whatpassed for justice in Burma. But they never grew disheartened; and atlast their opportunity came. 

It was Tshen's father who slew Paternostro. It was he who won undyinghonor by recovering the jewel. It was he who, hard-pressed by thepolice, was obliged to seek the nearest sanctuary, which happened to beFrance. The rest we know. 

But the gem still carried its baleful spell, for we also know how theexpert whom the Paternostros carried with them to Paris, was drownedjust as the homeward-bound vessel was entering Dover harbor. 

So much for the ruby's eventful history. 

Chaya's declaration also confirmed my conclusions respecting Burke'sdesigned imposition upon Alfred Fluette--which, by the way, he seemedto regard as perfectly legitimate. And then it concluded with the mostimportant matter of all. 

On the night of Felix Page's murder, while his companions were all inthe second story, Chaya had remained on guard below. He had watchedPage following Burke up-stairs, after the robbery, but could not warnthe thief without alarming the pursuer. 

After the struggle began in the hall, Chaya harkened to it a while, then dashed up the rear stairs to take a hand, in case the jewel was tobe snatched from his companions at the very moment of victory. Hepassed through the bath room during the brief period Burke was in hisown room informing Tshen of the state of affairs, entered the hall, where, by the dim light of the solitary candle, the two men were lockedin combat. The struggle was so furious that his presence was notnoticed. He proceeded to the _north-east_ angle of the balustrade, where he crouched around the corner and followed through the balustersthe uncertain issues of the fight. 

He watched the two chief actors so intently, in fact, that he failed toperceive Burke snatch up the supposed ruby from the floor; but he didsee Page wrest the leather case from Fluette. 

Now was the time for him to act. He was armed with a black-jack--aball of lead wrapped in leather and with a short, flexible leatherhandle--and just as Fluette grabbed up the iron candle-stick he plungedforward. 

At this instant the light was extinguished, and he received the fullweight of a human body as it staggered backward. He supposed it to bePage's. He struck out blindly with his own cruel weapon, at the sametime shoving the body away from him. He felt his bludgeon crush uponhis victim's head; and then he was himself felled to the floor with atremendous blow that blotted out everything else for him. The base ofthe candlestick had found a mark wholly unsuspected by any one. 

He knew afterwards that his companions had carried him down the rearstairs and away; that they tried to doctor him until they grew alarmedat the seriousness of his injuries; whereupon they deserted him in hisroom, after notifying the landlord, who had in turn notified thehospital authorities. Chaya was well supplied with funds, so there hadbeen no difficulty on that score. 

And thus was my deduction proved to be correct. Felix Page's _left_side had been toward the balustrade at the instant Fluette snatched upthe candle-stick; on the balustrade was a deep indentation where thebase of the improvised weapon had impinged, after glancing; and thefatal blow had struck upon the victim's _right_ temple. A singledescending blow can not very well pass down one side of a man and endupon the other. 

But while Chaya's story gratified me beyond measure, at the same timeit was incomplete; it threw no light upon the ruby's resting-place, andfor the simple reason that he knew no more about it than any of therest of the individuals interested in discovering where it had beenhidden. I was satisfied that the cipher, once I had interpreted it, would lead me to the gem. Therefore, it remained for me to find it. 

Well, the cryptic writing was solved, pretty soon; but the solutioncame like a crash of thunder, revealing the one twist toward the endthat I had least expected. 

And, worst of all, I should have known!

CHAPTER XXVI

THE CIPHER SOLVED

Chaya's ante-mortem statement, properly attested by Dr. Larrimer, Dr. De Breen, the hospital secretary, and myself, together with theotherwise complete case I had, was sufficient of course to open theprison doors for Royal Maillot. It should also have lifted the cloudfrom Alfred Fluette; but, alas! it did not. 

To make my story end as all well-conditioned stories ought to end, Ishould here be able to wave my wand, or invoke some good genie, orhowever it is that the writer-folk bestow happiness at a stroke uponthe helpless creatures whom they have been ruthlessly dragging througha sea of trial and tribulation, and show you the actors in my own dramatransported with joy. But I am recording what actually happened. Itwas a strange fatality that cast itself into the lives of these people. They were dismayed, overwhelmed, rendered helpless, leftuncomprehending. However much I may desire to do so, therefore, I cannot twist the truth to give my own story precisely the ending that youor I might desire it to have. 

As for myself, I couldn't carry the news fast enough to Maillot and toMr. Fluette, and to Belle and Genevieve. My enthusiasm met its firstdamper when the cell door swung open, and the young fellow walked out afree man. It is true that his gratitude was immeasurable; he couldfind no words to express it, and he wrung my hand until--strong manthat I am--I had to tear away from him. 

But after his elation had time to cool, he grew morose and gloomy; hewas more inclined to cling to what he had gone through, than to acceptthe extremely satisfactory assurance that he stood clear and as farabove suspicion as Caesar's wife. 

"No use talking, Swift, " he responded to my attempts to rally him outof his humor; "the taint will stick to me. People will say I 'm thefellow who was arrested for killing his uncle so that he could inherithis fortune. They 'll always point me out and shake their heads andsay I was released only because the police couldn't find evidence toconvict me. I hope to Heaven the old man made a will giving all hismoney to charity. "

"Faugh!" Such morbid talk was thoroughly exasperating. "Mr. Fluettehad a much narrower escape than you did. "

"Perhaps, " he admitted heavily. "But nobody knows it outside of youand his family. I can't go to Belle with the odor of prison clingingto me. And what's more, I sha'n't. "

"If you don't, " I said quietly, "you 'll break her heart. Yoursuffering has been as nothing compared with hers. " Then I lost mypatience completely. "Maillot, " I flung at him, "you're a damnedfool!" And I swung on my heel and strode away. 

"Hi! Swift! Come back here!" he yelled after me. In the next secondhe had caught hold of my arm and jerked me to a standstill. 

"Good Lord, man! I did n't know you had such a nasty temper! Here youcome and drag me out of jail, telling me I 'm innocent and all thatsort of thing, and because I don't strike out hot-footed and throwmyself into the presence of the cleanest, sweetest girl in the world, you think I 'm an ass. 

"Look here. _I_ knew I was innocent; but at the same time I did n'ttry to blink my compromising predicament. I wouldn't blame _any_fair-minded person for being suspicious of me. But everything 'shappened so sudden--I can't understand, --and--well, hang it, Swift! youhave n't made yourself clear, by a long shot. If you think I ought togo to Belle, why, I 'll go. "

"Then let's go together, " said I. 

And we did. 

After we had boarded a car, I reverted to the matter of the will. 

"I don't think it's likely that any will will turn up, " I told him. "Ihave talked with Mr. Ulysses White about it, and he said that FelixPage was one of the sort who have a holy horror of last testaments. Ifthe old gentleman ever made any such disposition of his property, Mr. White had no hand in it. "

To dismiss the matter, I will say here that no will ever did turn up, and that Maillot inherited the entire Page fortune. I merely mentionedthis topic to pave the way for that of the ruby. 

"Not the least part of the estate, " I pursued, "will be the Paternosterruby. "

The young fellow interrupted me impulsively. 

"By George, Swift! it's yours. Find it and keep it--or sell it andkeep the money. I 'll not have the ghastly thing--chuck it into thelake first. "

"That's no proper way to dispose of it; and later on you might regretsuch a gift to me. This was what I was going to suggest. 

"I believe the claim of the Burmese to be just, for I suppose they 'rehonest according to their lights. They would have a pretty hard timeestablishing it, though, if you are of a mind to contest the matter. "

"Great Scott! Forget that cursed ruby; talk about something else. Iwant to get the thing out of my mind and never think of it again. "

"All right. I sha'n't mention it after to-day. But let me getthrough. Here 's an easy way to settle the matter. 

"Let the Burmese have it after reimbursing the estate for what youruncle paid for it; it would be only fair--at least, in a measure. 

"I want to hold Tshen and his entourage of mild-eyed cutthroats until Iput Burke through; they 're my best witnesses. We can't hang therascal, but we have an excellent ease against him for burglary, attempted swindling, and attempted blackmail. After I find the rubyyou can do the bargaining. "

He agreed to this. After a bit he favored me with a quizzical regard. 

"I don't mind explaining that ring episode--now, " he said, in responseto my look of inquiry. "When you first pointed out the true import ofthe wax impression on the candlestick, it brought to my mind at onceFluette's capricious notion of wearing a ring on the middle finger ofhis right hand. I was keeping tab on you the day of the inquest. Iknew that he was going to attend, and that the circumstance would be ofconsiderable significance to you. I saw your look dart to his righthand---saw you watching him--"

"And you thought you 'd confuse me, eh?"

"Exactly. When you saw the ring on his finger only, the circumstancewas pregnant--portentous. When you had _two_ rings on _two_ righthands, why, you were puzzled, but the effect was scattering and weak. "

I approached Mr. Fluette with an enthusiasm decidedly tempered, and soI was not as disappointed as I might have been. My good news seemed toproduce not the slightest effect upon him. He appeared to have agedtwenty years; and from that day until his death, which occurred onlyfour months later, he remained melancholy and without interest inanything whatever. 

However, I was placed in the most embarrassing position that I everexperienced in my life. Before explanations were half made, Miss Belleflew at me--I 'm not attempting a pun, either--with a glad, impetuouscry, threw her arms around my neck, and, drawing herself to hertiptoes--_kissed me_! I had been far more at ease under her levelledrevolver. 

In the afternoon Genevieve and I repaired to the old Page place. Shewas so confident that she could find the originals of the designs onthe cipher, that I was anxious to give her the chance. Besides, shewas afraid to go alone, and I simply had to accompany her. Belle couldnot without Maillot tagging along, and--well, we didn't want anybodyelse. 

First of all, Genevieve had to be shown the dent made by thecandlestick in the railing of the balustrade. She placed the tip ofone little finger in the depression, and drew back with a shudder. 

"Let's go, " she said, in a hushed voice. "I never expect to come upthese stairs again. Let's find the daisies, and go. "

She understood as well as I did that Felix Page must have substitutedthe stones somewhere between the library table and the hidden safe inhis bedroom. She proposed to start at the table and examine everyobject, if necessary, between the two points mentioned. 

Our progress was slow until we reached the bedroom. Genevieve drew toan abrupt halt on the threshold. 

"There was a table there, by the head of the bed, " she said; "where isit?"

"Lying on its side in that corner"--I pointed. "It was hurled therelast Friday night, when the dwarf surprised Burke here. "

She went over to it, while I raised the blinds. Instantly she recoiledwith a cry, and then in a flash was fairly wild with excitement. 

"Knowles, Knowles!" she screamed. "Here they are!"

And sure enough, there they were--the brass tacks with which theartificial leather cover had been fastened on. Their heads wereornamental, with just such crenellated edges as might have prompted thecircular figures at each end of the cipher. 

I stared at them in stupefied silence. The row of gleaming tacksstaggered me. How many times had I lingered by that very table while Iracked my brain to remember where I had seen the peculiar figure! Why, once I even had paused and drawn the design in the dust on the leathercover! What a dunce--how blind I had been!

The cipher was not difficult to read now. At once I recalled Burke'sshadow on the blind; he had been bending over this table, and the agilemovements of his hands were no longer mysterious. He, too, had someknowledge of the cipher, and he had been rapidly running over thetack-heads, hunting for the combination that would reveal a concealedcompartment. 

After a while we grew rational again. I got out the cipher, and oncemore Genevieve and I put our heads together over it. Here it is; youmay follow us while we dig it out:

[Illustration: Cipher]

"If you remember, " I said presently, "I told you that very likely itwould have to be interpreted in connection with something not on thepaper. Count the tacks along the front edge. "

There were nineteen of them. 

"Counting from either end, " I went on, "the centre tack will be ten. It 's as simple as A-B-C. That's our starting-point from which to findthe others. Find the fourth one to the right of the centretack--number ten. "

She placed the tip of one forefinger upon it--a bit gingerly, I smiledto see. 

"Why, it gives!" she announced in surprise. 

"I 'd be terribly cut up if it did n't, " said I. "Now, then, theeleventh to the right. "

This carried her to the third one around the side; number thirteen wasthe fifth on the left side, number seventeen the ninth on the rightside, while number five was on the front edge, of course, close to thecentre. Each of them yielded a trifle beneath her pressure--until shecame to number five. Here she drew back and clasped her hands tightlytogether. 

"Oh, I can't!" she cried excitedly. "I'm just so nervous that I can'tput my finger upon it. You do it. "

"Nonsense!" said I. "If you don't find the ruby, it will never befound. That's the last one. "

At last, with shining eyes and parted lips, the little finger wentslowly down upon the fateful tack-head. She screwed up her eyes andclosed her lips tightly, as if she feared something would explode, thenpushed with all her might. The tack gave; but nothing else happened. 

We stared at the table, our faces long with disappointment; then welooked at each other in unspoken questioning. Genevieve's expressionwas so woe-begone that I laughed. The nerve-racking suspense wasbroken. 

"How silly!" she exclaimed. "There!"

With a quick movement, she bore down upon the centre tack--numberten--and lo! a section of the table edge flew outward, disclosing anaperture perhaps six inches long and a quarter of an inch wide. It wasvery much like a slit in a door for letters. 

But there was no ruby yet, nor any aperture large enough to accommodatethe one for which we were looking. I leaned over with a puzzled scowland peered into the slit. 

"There 's a folded paper in there, " I announced. My fingers were toolarge to force into the opening, and Genevieve promptly produced ahat-pin. Next moment we had the paper out--or papers, for there werethree sheets folded together. 

Across the back, written in Felix Page's small cramped hand, was thisinscription:

 _Memorandum of Agreement between_ _Felix Page_ _and_ _Cristofano Paternostro, Michele Paternostro_ _and Filippo Paternostro. _

"Well, we 're hot on the scent, at any rate, " was my comment, as Iunfolded the papers. Then I quickly folded them again, without aglance inside. 

"Wait!" said I. "This is a solemn occasion, and it should berecognized with some fitting observance. "

"Oh, don't tease!" cried Genevieve, dancing up and down withimpatience, and trying to pluck the papers from my hand. 

"I 'm not teasing, my dear, " said I; "I 'm terribly serious. We arepretty near the end of the trail, little girl; after we have read thisimposing document we will have reached the end. I 'm halfway sorry, too, notwithstanding the grim tragedy that has hung over us. We mustcelebrate the last event with an appropriate rite--a fire upon thelibrary hearth. "

She flushed with delight, and consented to wait until I had the firegoing properly. It was a most successful fire. We dragged the librarytable up close; I jumped Genevieve to a seat upon it, and then seatedmyself beside her. She placed a hand upon my shoulder, and our headswere again very close together. 

"Now, then!" I shook the papers open. 

The more imposing one--the agreement--I placed beneath; its dry legalphraseology was not at all inviting. The other sheets were, however. They too were written all over in Felix Page's hand, but bore theblunt, direct phrases of a man used to expressing himself without anyrhetorical embellishment or nonsense. 

And this is what we read:

This explanation is written to clear up any misunderstanding or doubt, that may arise after my death, over the stone called the PaternosterRuby. 

In June, 1884, I learned that Alfred Fluette was trying to buy it fromthe Paternostros. I at once determined that he should not have thestone if money could prevent it. So I too became a bidder. 

The first figure set by the dealers was almost prohibitive, but asFluette seemed willing to meet it, I was ready to go him one better. But the wily Italians hedged. They set us to bidding against eachother, and as the price rose my resolution to get the stone grew moreset. 

While the bids mounted, I was given ample satisfaction for the weightof whatever financial obligations I was incurring by Fluette'sincreasing worry and chagrin. He was like a pup that does n't knowwhether the bone is going into the soup-kettle or the garbage-can. Iswore to have that bit of red glass if it took every cent that I couldrake and scrape together--and I had a few of them. 

Finally Fluette drew out, cursing me. I brought the Italians to ashowdown. 

Still they hesitated. I became suspicious. 

One night Cristofano Paternostro, the head of the firm, called at myhotel. He was nervous and ill at ease. He informed me, with many hemsand haws, that the ruby Fluette and I had been snarling over was lyingat the bottom of the English Channel, and that they would be unable todeliver the goods. He had a good deal to say about the prestige theruby gave the firm, and much more to the same effect, until I cut himoff short. I told him that the ruby was nearer to making himridiculous. 

It seems that after they recovered the stone in Paris, the expert whoaccompanied them could n't resist the temptation to steal it. Besidesbeing a gem expert and an expert thief, this fellow was accounted anexpert swimmer. When the boat was near land he tried to get away withthe prize by jumping overboard, under cover of night, and swimmingashore. He did succeed in reaching the nearest land--which is to say, straight down. And that was the last of him, the ruby, and prettynearly of the three Italians. 

Since the ruby could n't be recovered, they agreed to make the best ofit. They agreed to keep the matter among themselves, and to continueto reap all the advertising benefits which the supposed possession ofsuch a costly trinket gave them. 

It was a joke, that. Here was I, like an old idiot, trying to spendgood money for something the other fellow did n't have to sell. 

But pretty soon I saw a way to reach my end just the same as though I'd beat Fluette in the deal. It was a whole lot better than that, infact. I could get out from under without it costing me a cent, andstill make Fluette and the world believe that I had bought the ruby. 

"Nice thing for the Paternostros, " says I, "when all this comes out. "

Cristofano turned green. He begged me not to tell. He promised me thepick of his gems if I 'd only keep the secret. 

I looked at him pretty sour. "Very well, " says I at last. "You giveme the imitation stone. I 'll never disclose the fact that you did n'thave the original ruby, _if you will announce to the world that it wassold to me for $500, 000_. As long as you keep your mouth shut, I 'llkeep mine. "

He was tickled to death. Nothing would do but he must have in the restof the firm (his brother and cousin). When they came I had a writtencontract prepared for them, setting forth the terms of our agreementand binding them with a penalty heavy enough to keep them fromblabbing. (Contract memo. Attached hereto. )

How long we remained silent in the midst of a speechless wonder, Ihaven't the least idea. Words were wholly inadequate even feebly toexpress the mingled feelings with which we slowly digested the fullforce and import of this remarkable document. 

So the very heart and essence of the tragedy, the crimson woof thatknitted together the dark warp of its fabric, had all along been unrealand without substance! For a gem that can not be applied to itsordained function can scarcely be said to have an existence. Yet thePaternoster ruby had been potent to project its maleficent influencefrom the depths of its watery grave, and shape the destinies of theliving. Verily, Fate never played a grimmer joke. 

My thoughts drifted back to the night of the murder. Why had FelixPage paused beside the table while going between the hidden safe andMaillot, who was waiting in the library? I could imagine only oneexplanation: as he passed the table he was seized with a sudden impulseto impart the secret to the young man, even going to the extent ofsetting down the jewel-box so that one hand would be free to manipulatethe tack-heads. But a second thought had prevailed. He picked up thebox and proceeded on his way. 

Genevieve, round-eyed, sat staring into the dying fire. (That was ajolly fire!) Presently her head bent over to my shoulder, and withoutlooking up she quoted a familiar couplet which must have occurred tothe reader ere this:

 "Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear. "

I mention the circumstance because it prompted an idea which suddenlyset me to laughing. Genevieve looked at me in alarm. 

"What in the world!" she marvelled, for the silence had been verysedate. 

"Little girl, " I at last enlightened her, "it will pay you to go withme when we leave here--to the Central Station. There 's something Iwant us to enjoy together; it will compensate for a deal of your latetrouble and anxiety. "

"What is it?"

"I want to hand Alexander Burke these papers, tell him they 're whatwas hidden in the table--then quietly watch him while he reads. "

I meant to do it, too. But Genevieve failed to enter into the spiritof the suggestion. 

"Mercy!" she shuddered. "I don't want to gloat over the poor wretch. "

I said no more about it, but--well, the result was all that I hadanticipated. 

Genevieve reminded me that we should be thankful for having beenrelieved from a final perplexity. 

"I don't understand, " said I. 

"Why, we haven't the ruby to dispose of; that would have puzzled evenyou. "

"I don't know about that. Royal gave it to me. I see where I stand tolose a fortune. Five hundred thousand--_whew_!"

Suddenly she snuggled closer and clasped her hands tightly upon myshoulder. Her hair teased my cheek, and the delicate perfume of itmade me light-headed. Twisting her pretty head sideways, she flashedan arch look at me from under her lashes, then glanced quickly awayagain. Blue eyes and long dark lashes are a potently disturbingcombination. 

"Well, " she sighed, "the Page case may have cost you a fortune, but--itgave you _me_. And _I_--for one--am very content and happy, Mr. Swift. "

THE END