THE CRAIG KENNEDY SERIES

GUY GARRICK

ARTHUR B. REEVE

WITH FRONTISPIECE

 CONTENTS

 I. The Stolen Motor

 II. The Murder Car

 III. The Mystery of the Thicket

 IV. The Liquid Bullet

 V. The Blackmailer

 VI. The Gambling Den

 VII. The Motor Bandit

 VIII. The Explanation

 IX. The Raid

 X. The Gambling Debt

 XI. The Gangster's Garage

 XII. The Detectaphone

 XIII. The Incendiary

 XIV. The Escape

 XV. The Plot

 XVI. The Poisoned Needle

 XVII. The Newspaper Fake

XVIII. The Vocaphone

 XIX. The Eavesdropper Again

 XX. The Speaking Arc

 XXI. The Siege of the Bandits

 XXII. The Man Hunt

XXIII. The Police Dog

 XXIV. The Frame-Up

 XXV. The Scientific Gunman

An Adventure in the New Crime Science

CHAPTER I

THE STOLEN MOTOR

"You are aware, I suppose, Marshall, that there have beenconsiderably over a million dollars' worth of automobiles stolenin this city during the past few months?" asked Guy Garrick onenight when I had dropped into his office. 

"I wasn't aware of the exact extent of the thefts, though ofcourse I knew of their existence, " I replied. "What's the matter?"

"If you can wait a few moments, " he went on, "I think I canpromise you a most interesting case--the first big case I've hadto test my new knowledge of crime science since I returned fromabroad. Have you time for it?"

"Time for it?" I echoed. "Garrick, I'd make time for it, ifnecessary. "

We sat for several moments, in silence, waiting. 

I picked up an evening paper. I had already read it, but I lookedthrough it again, to kill time, even reading the society notes. 

"By Jove, Garrick, " I exclaimed as my eye travelled over the page, "newspaper pictures don't usually flatter people, but just look atthose eyes! You can fairly see them dance even in the halftone. "

The picture which had attracted my attention was of Miss VioletWinslow, an heiress to a moderate fortune, a debutante well knownin New York and at Tuxedo that season. 

As Garrick looked over my shoulder his mere tone set me wondering. 

"She IS stunning, " he agreed simply. "Half the younger set arecrazy over her. "

The buzzer on his door recalled us to the case in hand. 

One of our visitors was a sandy-haired, red-mustached, stocky man, with everything but the name detective written on him from hisface to his mannerisms. 

He was accompanied by an athletically inclined, fresh-faced youngfellow, whose clothes proclaimed him to be practically the lastword in imported goods from London. 

I was not surprised at reading the name of James McBirney on thedetective's card, underneath which was the title of the AutomobileUnderwriters' Association. But I was more than surprised when theyounger of the visitors handed us a card with the simple name, Mortimer Warrington. 

For, Mortimer Warrington, I may say, was at that time one of thecelebrities of the city, at least as far as the newspapers wereconcerned. He was one of the richest young men in the country, andgood for a "story" almost every day. 

Warrington was not exactly a wild youth, in spite of the fact thathis name appeared so frequently in the headlines. As a matter offact, the worst that could be said of him with any degree of truthwas that he was gifted with a large inheritance of good, red, restless blood, as well as considerable holdings of real estate invarious active sections of the metropolis. 

More than that, it was scarcely his fault if the society columnshad been busy in a concerted effort to marry him off--no doubtwith a cynical eye on possible black-type headlines of futuredomestic discord. Among those mentioned by the enterprisingsociety reporters of the papers had been the same Miss VioletWinslow whose picture I had admired. Evidently Garrick hadrecognized the coincidence. 

Miss Winslow, by the way, was rather closely guarded by a duenna-like aunt, Mrs. Beekman de Lancey, who at that time had achieved acertain amount of notoriety by a crusade which she had organizedagainst gambling in society. She had reached that age when somewomen naturally turn toward righting the wrongs of humanity, and, in this instance, as in many others, humanity did not exactlyappreciate it. 

"How are you, McBirney?" greeted Garrick, as he met his oldfriend, then, turning to young Warrington, added: "Have you had acar stolen?"

"Have I?" chimed in the youth eagerly, and with just a trace ofnervousness. "Worse than that. I can stand losing a big nine-thousand-dollar Mercedes, but--but--you tell it, McBirney. Youhave the facts at your tongue's end. "

Garrick looked questioningly at the detective. 

"I'm very much afraid, " responded McBirney slowly, "that thistheft about caps the climax of motor-car stealing in this city. Ofcourse, you realize that the automobile as a means of committingcrime and of escape has rendered detection much more difficult to-day than it ever was before. " He paused. "There's been a murderdone in or with or by that car of Mr. Warrington's, or I'm readyto resign from the profession!"

McBirney had risen in the excitement of his revelation, and hadhanded Garrick what looked like a discharged shell of a cartridge. 

Garrick took it without a word, and turned it over and overcritically, examining every side of it, and waiting for McBirneyto resume. McBirney, however, said nothing. 

"Where did you find the car?" asked Garrick at length, stillexamining the cartridge. "We haven't found it, " replied thedetective with a discouraged sigh. 

"Haven't found it?" repeated Garrick. "Then how did you get thiscartridge--or, at least why do you connect it with thedisappearance of the car?"

"Well, " explained McBirney, getting down to the story, "youunderstand Mr. Warrington's car was insured against theft in acompany which is a member of our association. When it was stolenwe immediately put in motion the usual machinery for tracingstolen cars. "

"How about the police?" I queried. 

McBirney looked at me a moment--I thought pityingly. "With alldeference to the police, " he answered indulgently, "it is theinsurance companies and not the police who get cars back--usually. I suppose it's natural. The man who loses a car notifies us first, and, as we are likely to lose money by it, we don't waste any timegetting after the thief. "

"You have some clew, then?" persisted Garrick. 

McBirney nodded. 

"Late this afternoon word came to me that a man, all alone in acar, which, in some respects tallied with the description ofWarrington's, although, of course, the license number and colorhad been altered, had stopped early this morning at a littlegarage over in the northern part of New Jersey. "

Warrington, excited, leaned forward and interrupted. 

"And, Garrick, " he exclaimed, horrified, "the car was all stainedwith blood!"

CHAPTER II

THE MURDER CAR

Garrick looked from one to the other of his visitors intently. Here was an entirely unexpected development in the case whichstamped it as set apart from the ordinary. 

"How did the driver manage to explain it and get away?" he askedquickly. 

McBirney shook his head in evident disgust at the affair. 

"He must be a clever one, " he pursued thoughtfully. "When he cameinto the garage they say he was in a rather jovial mood. He saidthat he had run into a cow a few miles back on the road, and thenbegan to cuss the farmer, who had stung him a hundred dollars forthe animal. "

"And they believed it?" prompted Garrick. 

"Yes, the garage keeper's assistant swallowed the story andcleaned the car. There was some blood on the radiator and hood, but the strange part was that it was spattered even over the rearseat--in fact, was mostly in the rear. "

"How did he explain that?"

"Said that he guessed the farmer who stung him wouldn't get muchfor the carcass, for it had been pretty well cut up and a part ofit flung right back into the tonneau. "

"And the man believed that, too?"

"Yes; but afterward the garage keeper himself was told. He met thefarmer in town later, and the farmer denied that he had lost acow. That set the garage keeper thinking. And then, while theywere cleaning up the garage later in the day, they found thatcartridge where the car had been washed down and swept out. We hadalready advertised a reward for information about the stolen car, and, when he heard of the reward, for there are plenty of peopleabout looking for money in that way, he telephoned in, thinkingthe story might interest us. It did, for I am convinced that hisdescription of the machine tallies closely with that of Mr. Warrington's. "

"How about the man who drove it?" cut in Garrick. 

"That's the unfortunate part of it, " replied McBirney, chagrined. "These amateur detectives about the country rarely seem to haveany foresight. Of course they could describe how the fellow wasdressed, even the make of goggles he wore. But, when it came totelling one feature of his face accurately, they took refugebehind the fact that he kept his cap pulled down over his eyes, and talked like a 'city fellow. '"

"All of which is highly important, " agreed Garrick. "I supposethey'd consider a fingerprint, or the portrait parle the height ofidiocy beside that. "

"Disgusting, " ejaculated McBirney, who, whatever his ownlimitations might be, had a wholesome respect for Garrick's newmethods. 

"Where did you leave the car?" asked Garrick of Warrington. "Howdid you lose it?"

The young man seemed to hesitate. 

"I suppose, " he said at length, with a sort of resigned smile, "I'll have to make a clean breast of it. "

"You can hardly expect us to do much, otherwise, " encouragedGarrick dryly. "Besides, you can depend on us to keep anything yousay confidential. "

"Why, " he began, "the fact is that I had started out for a mildlittle sort of celebration, apropos of nothing at all inparticular, beginning with dinner at the MephistophelesRestaurant, with a friend of mine. You know the place, perhaps--just on the edge of the automobile district and the white lights. "

"Yes, " encouraged Garrick, "near what ought to be named 'CrimeSquare. ' Whom were you with?"

"Well, Angus Forbes and I were going to dine together, and thenlater we were to meet several fellows who used to belong to thesame upperclass club with us at Princeton. We were going to do alittle slumming. No ladies, you understand, " he added hastily. 

Garrick smiled. 

"It may not have been pure sociology, " pursued Warrington, good-humouredly noticing the smile, "but it wasn't as bad as some ofthe newspapers might make it out if they got hold of it, anyhow. Imay as well admit, I suppose, that Angus has been going the pacepretty lively since we graduated. I don't object to a little flyernow and then, myself, but I guess I'm not up to his class yet. Butthat doesn't make any difference. The slumming party never cameoff. "

"How?" prompted Garrick again. 

"Angus and I had a very good dinner at the Mephistopheles--theyhave a great cabaret there--and by and by the fellows began todrop in to join us. When I went out to look for the car, which Iwas going to drive myself, it was gone. "

"Where did you leave it?" asked McBirney, as if bringing out theevidence. 

"In the parking space half a block below the restaurant. Achauffeur standing near the curb told me that a man in a cap andgoggles--"

"Another amateur detective, " cut in McBirney parenthetically. 

"--had come out of the restaurant, or seemed to do so, had spunthe engine, climbed in, and rode off--just like that!"

"What did you do then?" asked Garrick. "Did you fellows goanywhere?"

"Oh, Forbes wanted to play the wheel, and went around to a placeon Forty-eighth Street. I was all upset about the loss of the car, got in touch with the insurance company, who turned me over toMcBirney here, and the rest of the fellows went down to the Club. "

"There was no trace of the car in the city?" asked Garrick, of thedetective. 

"I was coming to that, " replied McBirney. "There was at least arumour. You see, I happen to know several of the police on fixedposts up there, and one of them has told me that he noticed a car, which might or might not have been Mr. Warrington's, pull up, about the time his car must have disappeared, at a place in Forty-seventh Street which is reputed to be a sort of poolroom forwomen. "

Garrick raised his eyebrows the fraction of an inch. 

"At any rate, " pursued McBirney, "someone must have been having awild time there, for they carried a girl out to the car. Sheseemed to be pretty far gone and even the air didn't revive her--that is, assuming that she had been celebrating not wisely but toowell. Of course, the whole thing is pure speculation yet, as faras Warrington's car is concerned. Maybe it wasn't his car, afterall. But I am repeating it only for what it may be worth. "

"Do you know the place?" asked Garrick, watching Warringtonnarrowly. 

"I've heard of it, " he admitted, I thought a little evasively. 

Then it flashed over me that Mrs. De Lancey was leading thecrusade against society gambling and that that perhaps accountedfor Warrington's fears and evident desire for concealment. 

"I know that some of the faster ones in the smart set go thereonce in a while for a little poker, bridge, and even to play theraces, " went on Warrington carefully. "I've never been theremyself, but I wouldn't be surprised if Angus could tell you allabout it. He goes in for all that sort of thing. "

"After all, " interrupted McBirney, "that's only rumour. Here's thepoint of the whole thing. For a long time my Association has beenthinking that merely in working for the recovery of the cars wehave been making a mistake. It hasn't put a stop to the stealing, and the stealing has gone quite far enough. We have got to dosomething about it. It struck me that here was a case on which tobegin and that you, Garrick, are the one to begin it for us, whileI carry on the regular work I am doing. The gang is growing bolderand more clever every day. And then, here's a murder, too, in alllikelihood. If we don't round them up, there is no limit to whatthey may do in terrorizing the city. "

"How does this gang, as you call it, operate?" asked Garrick. 

"Most of the cars that are stolen, " explained McBirney, "are takenfrom the automobile district, which embraces also not a smallportion of the new Tenderloin and the theatre district. Actually, Garrick, more than nine out of ten cars have disappeared betweenForty-second and Seventy-second Streets. "

Garrick was listening, without comment. 

"Some of the thefts, like this one of Warrington's car, " continuedMcBirney, warming up to the subject, "have been so bold that youwould be astonished. And it is those stolen cars, I believe, thatare used in the wave of taxicab and motor car robberies, hold-ups, and other crimes that is sweeping over the city. The cars aretaken to some obscure garage, without doubt, and their identity isdestroyed by men who are expert in the practice. "

"And you have no confidence in the police?" I inquired cautiously, mindful of his former manner. 

"We have frequently had occasion to call on the police forassistance, " he answered, "but somehow or other it has seldomworked. They don't seem to be able to help us much. If anything isdone, we must do it. If you will take the case, Garrick, I canpromise you that the Association will pay you well for it. "

"I will add whatever is necessary, too, " put in Warrington, eagerly. "I can stand the loss of the car--in fact, I don't carewhether I ever get it back. I have others. But I can't stand thethought that my car is going about the country as the property ofa gunman, perhaps--an engine of murder and destruction. "

Garrick had been thoughtfully balancing the exploded shell betweenhis fingers during most of the interview. As Warrington concluded, he looked up. 

"I'll take the case, " he said simply. "I think you'll find thatthere is more to it than even you suspect. Before we get through, I shall get a conviction on that empty shell, too. If there is agunman back of it all, he is no ordinary fellow, but a scientificgunman, far ahead of anything of which you dream. No, don't thankme for taking the case. My thanks are to you for putting it in myway. "

CHAPTER III

THE MYSTERY OF THE THICKET

"You know my ideas on modern detective work, " Garrick remarked tome, reflectively, when they had gone. 

I nodded assent, for we had often discussed the subject. 

"There must be something new in order to catch criminals, nowadays, " he pursued. "The old methods are all right--as far asthey go. But while we have been using them, criminals have keptpace with modern science. "

I had met Garrick several months before on the return trip fromabroad, and had found in him a companion spirit. 

For some years I had been editing a paper which I called "TheScientific World, " and it had taxed my health to the point wheremy physician had told me that I must rest, or at least combinepleasure with business. Thus I had taken the voyage across theocean to attend the International Electrical Congress in London, and had unexpectedly been thrown in with Guy Garrick, who laterseemed destined to play such an important part in my life. 

Garrick was a detective, young, university bred, of good family, alert, and an interesting personality to me. He had travelledmuch, especially in London, Paris, Berlin, and Vienna, where hehad studied the amazing growth abroad of the new criminal science. 

Already I knew something, by hearsay, of the men he had seen, Gross, Lacassagne, Reiss, and the now immortal Bertillon. Ouracquaintance, therefore, had rapidly ripened into friendship, andon our return, I had formed a habit of dropping in frequently onhim of an evening, as I had this night, to smoke a pipe or two andtalk over matters of common interest in his profession. 

He had paused a moment in what he was saying, but now resumed, less reflectively, "Fortunately, Marshall, the crime-hunters havegone ahead faster than the criminals. Now, it's my job to catchcriminals. Yours, it seems to me, is to show people how they cannever hope to beat the modern scientific detective. Let's strike abargain. "

I was flattered by his confidence. More than that, the ideaappealed to me, in fact was exactly in line with some plans I hadalready made for the "World, " since our first acquaintance. 

And so it came about that the case brought to him by McBirney andyoung Warrington was responsible for clearing our ideas as to ourmutual relationship and thus forming this strange partnership thathas existed ever since. 

"Tom, " he remarked, as we left the office quite late, after he hadarranged affairs as if he expected to have no time to devote tohis other work for several days, "come along and stay with me atmy apartment to-night. It's too late to do anything now until to-morrow. "

I accepted his invitation without demur, for I knew that he meantit, but I doubt whether he slept much during the night. Certainlyhe was up and about early enough the following morning. 

"That's curious, " I heard him remark, as he ran his eye hastilyover the first page of the morning paper, "but I rather expectedsomething of the sort. Read that in the first column, Tom. "

The story that he indicated had all the marks of having beendropped into place at the last moment as the city edition went topress in the small hours of the night. 

It was headed:

GIRL'S BODY FOUND IN THICKET

The despatch was from a little town in New Jersey, and, when I sawthe date line, it at once suggested to me, as it had to Guy, thatthis was in the vicinity that must have been traversed in order toreach the point from which had come the report of the bloody carthat had seemed to tally with the description of that whichWarrington had lost. It read:

"Hidden in the underbrush, not ten feet from one of the mosttravelled automobile roads in this section of the state, the bodyof a murdered girl was discovered late yesterday afternoon by agang of Italian labourers employed on an estate nearby. 

"Suspicion was at first directed by the local authorities at thelabourers, but the manner of the finding of the body renders itimprobable. Most of them are housed in some rough shacks up theroad toward Tuxedo and were able to prove themselves of goodcharacter. Indeed, the trampled condition of the thicket plainlyindicates, according to the local coroner, that the girl wasbrought there, probably already dead, in an automobile which drewup off the road as far as possible. The body then must have beenthrown where it would be screened from sight by the thick growthof trees and shrubbery. 

"There was only one wound, in the chest. It is, however, a mostpeculiar wound, and shows that a terrific force must have beenexerted in order to make it. A blow could hardly have accomplishedit, so jagged were its edges, and if the girl had been struck by apassing high-speed car, as was at first suggested, there is no wayto account for the entire lack of other wounds which mustnaturally have been inflicted by such an accident. 

"Neither is the wound exactly like a pistol or gunshot wound, for, curiously enough, there was no mark showing the exit of a bullet, nor was any bullet found in the body after the most carefulexamination. The local authorities are completely mystified at thepossible problems that may arise out of the case, especially as tothe manner in which the unfortunate girl met her death. 

"Until a late hour the body, which is of a girl perhaps twenty-three or four, of medium height, fair, good looking, and stylishlydressed, was still unidentified. She was unknown in this part ofthe country. "

Almost before I had finished reading, Garrick had his hat and coaton and had shoved into his pocket a little detective camera. 

"Strange about the bullet, " I ruminated. "I wonder who she canbe?"

"Very strange, " agreed Garrick, urging me on. "I think we ought toinvestigate the case. "

As we hurried along to a restaurant for a bite of breakfast, heremarked, "The circumstances of the thing, coming so closely afterthe report about Warrington's car, are very suspicious--very. Ifeel sure that we shall find some connection between the twoaffairs. "

Accordingly, we caught an early train and at the nearest railroadstation to the town mentioned in the despatch engaged a hackmanwho knew the coroner, a local doctor. 

The coroner was glad to assist us, though we were careful not totell him too much of our own connection with the case. On the wayover to the village undertaker's where the body had been moved, hevolunteered the information that the New York police, whom he hadnotified immediately, had already sent a man up there, who hadtaken a description of the girl and finger prints, but had not, sofar at least, succeeded in identifying the girl, at any rate onany of the lists of those reported missing. 

"You see, " remarked Garrick to me, "that is where the police haveus at a disadvantage. They have organization on their side. A goodmany detectives make the mistake of antagonizing the police. Butif you want results, that's fatal. "

"Yes, " I agreed, "it's impossible, just as it is to antagonize thenewspapers. "

"Exactly, " returned Garrick. "My idea of the thing, Marshall, isthat I should work with, not against, the regular detectives. Theyare all right, in fact indispensable. Half the secret of successnowadays is efficiency and organization. What I do believe is thatorganization plus science is what is necessary. "

The local undertaking establishment was rather poorly equipped totake the place of a morgue and the authorities were makingpreparations to move the body to the nearest large city pendingthe disposal of the case. Local detectives had set to work, but sofar had turned up nothing, not even the report which we hadalready received from McBirney regarding the blood-stained carthat resembled Warrington's. 

We arrived with the coroner fortunately just before the removal ofthe body to the city and by his courtesy were able to see itwithout any trouble. 

Death, and especially violent death, are at best grewsomesubjects, but when to that are added the sordid surroundings of acountry undertaker's and the fact that the victim is a woman, itall becomes doubly tragic. 

She was a rather flashily dressed girl, but remarkably goodlooking, in spite of the rouge and powder which had long sincespoiled what might otherwise have been a clear and finecomplexion. The roots of her hair showed plainly that it had beenbleached. 

Garrick examined the body closely, and more especially the jaggedwound in the breast. I bent over also. It seemed utterlyinexplicable. There was, he soon discovered, a sort of greasy, oleaginous deposit in the clotted blood of the huge cavity in theflesh. It interested him, and he studied it carefully for a longtime, without saying a word. 

"Some have said she was wounded by some kind of blunt instrument, "put in the coroner. "Others that she was struck by a car. But it'smy opinion that she was killed by a rifle bullet of some kind, although what could have become of the bullet is beyond me. I'veprobed for it, but it isn't there. "

Garrick finished his minute examination of the wound withoutpassing any comment on it of his own. 

"Now, if you will be kind enough to take us around to the placewhere the body was discovered, " he concluded, "I think we shallnot trespass on your time further. "

In his own car, the coroner drove us up the road in the directionof the New York state boundary to the spot where the body had beenfound. It was a fine, well-oiled road and I noticed the number andhigh quality of the cars which passed us. 

When we arrived at the spot where the body of the unfortunate girlhad been discovered, Garrick began a minute search. I do not thinkfor a moment that he expected to find any weapon, or even thetrace of one. It seemed hopeless also to attempt to pick out anyof the footprints. The earth was soft and even muddy, but so manyfeet had trodden it down since the first alarm had been given thatit would have been impossible to extricate one set of footprintsfrom another, much less to tell whether any of them had been madeby the perpetrators of the crime. 

Still, there seemed to be something in the mud, just off the sideof the road, that did interest Garrick. Very carefully, so as notto destroy anything himself which more careless searchers mighthave left, he began a minute study of the ground. 

Apparently he was rewarded, for, although he said nothing, he tooka hasty glance at the direction of the sun, up-ended the camera hehad brought, and began to photograph the ground itself, or rathersome curious marks on it which I could barely distinguish. 

The coroner and I looked on without saying a word. He, at least, Iam sure, thought that Garrick had suddenly taken leave of hissenses. 

That concluded Garrick's investigation, and, after thanking thecoroner, who had gone out of his way to accommodate us, we startedback to town. 

"Well, " I remarked, as we settled ourselves for the tedious rideinto the city in the suburban train, "we don't seem to have addedmuch to the sum of human knowledge by this trip. "

"Oh, yes, we have, " he returned, almost cheerfully, patting theblack camera which he had folded and slipped into his pocket. "We'll just preserve the records which I have here. Did you noticewhat it was that I photographed?"

"I saw something, " I replied, "but I couldn't tell you what itwas. "

"Well, " he explained slowly as I opened my eyes wide in amazementat the minuteness of his researches, "those were the marks of thetire of an automobile that had been run up into the bushes fromthe road. You know every automobile tire leaves its owndistinctive mark, its thumb print, as it were. When I havedeveloped my films, you will see that the marks that have beenleft there are precisely like those left by the make of tires usedon Warrington's car, according to the advertisement sent out byMcBirney. Of course, that mere fact alone doesn't prove anything. Many cars may use that make of tires. Still, it is an interestingcoincidence, and if the make had been different I should not feelhalf so encouraged about going ahead with this clew. We can't sayanything definite, however, until I can compare the actual marksmade by the tires on the stolen car with these marks which I havephotographed and preserved. "

If any one other than Garrick had conceived such a notion as the"thumb print" of an automobile tire, I might possibly haveventured to doubt it. As it was it gave food enough for thought tolast the remainder of the journey back to town. 

CHAPTER IV

THE LIQUID BULLET

On our return to the city, I was not surprised after ourconversation over in New Jersey to find that Garrick had decidedon visiting police headquarters. It was, of course, CommissionerDillon, one of the deputies, whom he wanted to see. I had metDillon myself some time before in connection with my study of thefinger print system, and consequently needed no secondintroduction. 

In his office on the second floor, the Commissioner greeted uscordially in his bluff and honest voice which both of us came toknow and like so well later. Garrick had met him often and thecordiality of their relations was well testified to by Dillon'sgreeting. 

"I thought you'd be here before long, " he beamed on Garrick, as heled us into an inner sanctum. "Did you read in the papers thismorning about that murder of a girl whose body was found up in NewJersey in the underbrush?"

"Not only that, but I've picked up a few things that your manoverlooked, " confided Garrick. 

Dillon looked at him sharply for a moment. "Say, " he said frankly, "that's one of the things I like about you, Garrick. You're on thejob. Also, you're on the square. You don't go gumshoeing it aroundbehind a fellow's back, and talking the same way. You play fair. Now, look here. Haven't I always played fair with you, Garrick?"

"Yes, Dillon, " agreed Garrick, "you have always played fair. Butwhat's the idea?"

"You came up here for information, didn't you?" persisted thecommissioner. 

Garrick nodded. 

"Well do you know who that girl was who was murdered?" he askedleaning forward. 

"No, " admitted Garrick. 

"Of course not, " asserted Dillon triumphantly. "We haven't givenit out yet--and I don't know as we shall. "

"No, " pursued Garrick, "I don't know and I'll admit that I'd liketo know. My position is, as it always has been, that we shouldn'twork at cross purposes. I have drawn my own conclusions on thecase and, to put it bluntly, it seemed to me clear that she was ofthe demi-monde. "

"She was--in a sense, " vouchsafed the commissioner. "Now, " headded, leaning forward impressively, "I'm going to tell yousomething. That girl--was one of the best stool pigeons we haveever had. "

Both Garrick and I were listening intently at, the surprisingrevelation of the commissioner. He was pacing up and down, now, evidently much excited. 

"As for me, " he continued, "I hate the stool pigeon method as muchas anyone can. I don't like it. I don't relish the idea of beingin partnership with crooks in any degree. I hate an informer whoworms himself or herself into a person's friendship for thepurpose of betraying it. But the system is here. I didn't start itand I can't change it. As long as it's here I must accept it anddo business under it. And, that being the case, I can't afford tolet matters like this killing pass without getting revenge, swiftand sure. You understand? Someone's going to suffer for thekilling of that girl, not only because it was a brutal murder, butbecause the department has got to make an example or no one whomwe employ is safe. "

Dillon was shouldering his burly form up and down the office inhis excitement. He paused in front of us, to proceed. 

"I've got one of my best men on the case now--Inspector Herman. I'll introduce you to him, if he happens to be around. Herman'sall right. But here you come in, Garrick, and tell me you pickedup something that my man missed up there in Jersey. I know it'sthe truth, too. I've worked with you and seen enough of you toknow that you wouldn't say a thing like that as a bluff to me. "

Dillon was evidently debating something in his mind. 

"Herman'll have to stand it, " he went on, half to himself. "Idon't care whether he gets jealous or not. "

He paused and looked Garrick squarely in the eye, as he led up tohis proposal. "Garrick, " he said slowly, "I'd like to have youtake up the case for us, too. I've heard already that you areworking on the automobile cases. You see, I have ways of gettinginformation myself. We're not so helpless as your friend McBirney, maybe, thinks. "

He faced us and it was almost as if he read our minds. 

"For instance, " he proceeded, "it may interest you to know that wehave just planned a new method to recover stolen automobiles andapprehend the thieves. A census of all cars in the questionablegarages of the city has been taken, and each day every policemanis furnished with descriptions of cars stolen in the past twenty-four hours. The policeman then is supposed to inspect the garagesin his district and if he finds a machine that shouldn't be there, according to the census, he sees to it that it isn't removed fromthe place until it is identified. The description of thisWarrington car has gone out with extra special orders, and if it'sin New York I think we'll find it. "

"I think you'll find, " remarked Garrick quietly, "that thismachine of Warrington's isn't in the city, at all. "

"I hardly think it is, myself, " agreed Dillon. "Whoever it was whotook it is probably posted about our new scheme. That's not thepoint I was driving at. You see, Garrick, our trails cross inthese cases in a number of ways. Now, I have a little secret fundat my disposal. In so far as the affair involved the murder ofthat girl--and I'm convinced that it does--will you consider thatyou are working for the city, too? The whole thing dovetails. Youdon't have to neglect one client to serve another. I'll doanything I can to help you with the auto cases. In fact, you'll dobetter by both clients by joining the cases. "

"Dillon, " answered Garrick quickly, "you've always been on thelevel with me. I can trust you. Consider that it is a bargain. We'll work together. Now, who was the girl?"

"Her name was Rena Taylor, " replied Dillon, apparently muchgratified at the success of his proposal. "I had her at workgetting evidence against a ladies' poolroom in Forty-seventhStreet--an elusive place that we've never been able to 'getright. '"

Garrick shot a quick glance at me. Evidently we were on the righttrail, anyhow. 

"I don't know yet just what happened, " continued Dillon, "but I doknow that she had the goods on it. As nearly as I can find out, astranger came to the place well introduced, a man, accompanied bya woman. They got into some of the games. The man seems to haveexcused himself. Apparently he found Rena Taylor alone in a roomin some part of the house. No one heard a pistol shot, but then Ithink they would lie about that, all right. "

Dillon paused. "The strange thing is, however, " he resumed, "thatwe haven't been able to find in the house a particle of evidencethat a murder or violence of any kind has been done. One fact isestablished, though, incontrovertibly. Rena Taylor disappearedfrom that gambling house the same night and about the same timethat Warrington's car disappeared. Then we find her dead over inNew Jersey. "

"And I find reports and traces that the car has been in thevicinity, " added Garrick. 

"You see, " beamed Dillon, "that's how we work together. Say youMUST meet Herman. "

He rang a bell and a blue-coated man opened the door. "CallHerman, Jim, " he said, then, as the man disappeared, he went on tous, "I have given Herman carte-blanche instructions to conduct athorough investigation. He has been getting the goods on anotherswell joint on the next street, in Forty-eighth, a joint that isjust feeding on young millionaires in this town, and is or will bethe cause of more crime and broken hearts if I don't land it andbreak it up than any such place has been for years. " The dooropened, and Dillon said, "Herman, shake hands with Mr. Garrick andMr. Marshall. "

The detective was a quiet, gentlemanly sort of fellow who lookedrugged and strong, a fighter to be respected. In fact I would muchrather have had a man like him with us than against us. I knewGarrick's aversion to the regular detective and was not surprisedthat he did not overwhelm Mr. Herman by the cordiality of hisgreeting. Garrick always played a lone hand, preferred it and hadtaken Dillon into his confidence only because of his officialposition and authority. 

"These gentlemen are going to work independently on that RenaTaylor case, " explained Dillon. "I want you to give Mr. Garrickevery assistance, Herman. "

Garrick nodded with a show of cordiality and Herman replied inabout the same spirit. I could not fancy our getting very muchassistance from the regular detective force, with the exception ofDillon. And I noticed, also, that Garrick was not volunteering anyinformation except what was necessary in good faith. Already Ibegan to wonder how this peculiar bargain would turn out. 

"Just who and what was Rena Taylor?" asked Garrick finally. 

Inspector Herman shot a covert glance at Dillon before replyingand the commissioner hastened to reassure him, "I have told Mr. Garrick that she was one of our best stool pigeons and had beenworking on the gambling cases. "

Like all detectives on a case, Herman was averse to parting withany information, and I felt that it was natural, for if hesucceeded in working it out human nature was not such as towillingly share the glory. 

"Oh, " he replied airily, "she was a girl who had knocked aboutconsiderably in the Tenderloin. I don't know just what her storywas, but I suppose there was some fellow who got her to come toNew York and then left her in the lurch. She wasn't a New Yorker. She seems to have drifted from one thing to another--until finallyin order to get money she came down and offered her services tothe police, in this gambling war. "

Herman had answered the question, but when I examined the answer Ifound it contained precious little. Perhaps it was indeed all heknew, for, although Garrick put several other questions to him andhe answered quite readily and with apparent openness, there wasvery little more that we learned. 

"Yes, " concluded Herman, "someone cooked her, all right. Theydon't take long to square things with anyone who raps to the'bulls. '"

"That's right, " agreed Garrick. "And the underworld isn't alone inthat feeling. No one likes a 'snitch. '"

"Bet your life, " emphasized Herman heartily, then edging towardthe door, he said, "Well, gentlemen, I'm glad to meet you and I'llwork with you. I wish you success, all right. It's a hard case. Why, there wasn't any trace of a murder or violence in that placein which Rena Taylor must have been murdered. I suppose you haveheard that there wasn't any bullet found in the body, either?"

"Yes, " answered Garrick, "so far it does look inexplicable. "

Inspector Herman withdrew. One could see that he had little faithin these "amateur" detectives. 

A telephone message for Dillon about another departmental matterterminated our interview and we went our several ways. 

"Much help I've ever got from a regular detective like Herman, "remarked Garrick, phrasing my own idea of the matter, as we paidthe fare of our cab a few minutes later and entered his office. 

"Yes, " I agreed. "Why, he's even stumped at the start by themystery of there being no bullet. I'm glad you said nothing aboutthe cartridge, although I can't see for the life of me what goodit is to us. "

I had ventured the remark, hoping to entice Garrick into talking. It worked, at least as far as Garrick wanted to talk yet. 

"You'll see about the cartridge soon enough, Tom, " he rejoined. "As for there being no bullet, there was a bullet--only it was ofa kind you never dreamed of before. "

He regarded me contemplatively for a moment, then leaned over andin a voice full of meaning, concluded, "That bullet was composedof something soft or liquid, probably confined in some kind ofthin capsule. It mushroomed out like a dumdum bullet. It wasdeadly. But the chief advantage was that the heat that remained inRena Taylor's body melted all evidence of the bullet. That waswhat caused that greasy, oleaginous appearance of the wound. Themurderer thought he left no trail in the bullet in the corpse. Inother words, it was practically a liquid bullet. "

CHAPTER V

THE BLACKMAILER

It was late in the afternoon, while Garrick was still busy with ahigh-powered microscope, making innumerable micro-photographs, when the door of the office opened softly and a young ladyentered. 

As she advanced timidly to us, we could see that she was tall andgave promise of developing with years into a stately woman--apronounced brunette, with sparkling black eyes. I had not met herbefore, yet somehow I could not escape the feeling that she wasfamiliar to me. 

It was not until she spoke that I realized that it was the eyes, not the face, which I recognized. 

"You are Mr. Garrick?" she asked of Guy in a soft, purring voicewhich, I felt, masked a woman who would fight to the end foranyone or anything she really loved. 

Then, before Guy could answer, she explained, "I am Miss VioletWinslow. A friend of mine, Mr. Warrington, has told me that youare investigating a peculiar case for him--the strange loss of hiscar. "

Garrick hastened to place a chair for her in the least clutteredand dusty part of the room. There she sat, looking up at himearnestly, a dainty contrast to the den in which Garrick wasworking out the capture of criminals, violent and vicious. 

"I have the honor to be able to say, 'Yes' to all that you haveasked, Miss Winslow, " he replied. "Is there any way in which I canbe of service to you?"

I thought a smile played over his face at the thought that perhapsshe might have come to ask him to work for three clients insteadof two. 

At any rate, the girl was very much excited and very much inearnest, as she opened her handbag and drew from it a letter whichshe handed to Garrick. 

"I received that letter, " she explained, speaking rapidly, "in thenoon mail to-day. I don't know what to make of it. It worries meto get such a thing. What do you suppose it was sent to me for?Who could have sent it?"

She was leaning forward artlessly on her crossed knee lookingexpectantly up into Garrick's face, oblivious to everything else, even her own enticing beauty. There was something so simple andsincere about Violet Winslow that one felt instinctively thatnothing was too great a price to shield her from the sordid andthe evil in the world. Yet something had happened that had broughther already into the office of a detective. 

Garrick had glanced quickly at the outside of the slit envelope. The postmark showed that it had been mailed early that morning atthe general post office and that there was slight chance oftracing anything in that direction. 

Then he opened it and read. The writing was in a bold scrawl andhastily executed:

You have heard, no doubt, of the alleged loss of an automobile byMr. Mortimer Warrington. I have seen your name mentioned in thesociety columns of the newspapers in connection with him severaltimes lately. Let a disinterested person whom you do not know warnyou in time. There is more back of it than he will care to tell. Ican say nothing of the nefarious uses to which that car has beenput, but you will learn more shortly. Meanwhile, let me inform youthat he and some of the wilder of his set had that night planned avisit to a gambling house on Forty-eighth Street. I myself saw thecar standing before another gambling den on Forty-seventh Streetabout the same time. This place, I may as well inform you, bearsan unsavory reputation as a gambling joint to which young ladiesof the fastest character are admitted. If you will ask someone inwhom you have confidence and whom you can ask to work secretly foryou to look up the records, you will find that much of theproperty on these two blocks, and these two places in particular, belongs to the Warrington estate. Need I say more?

The letter was without superscription or date and was signedmerely with the words, "A Well-Wisher. " The innuendo of the thingwas apparent. 

"Of course, " she remarked, as Garrick finished reading, and beforehe could speak, "I know there is something back of it. Some personis trying to injure Mortimer. Still---"

She did not finish the sentence. It was evident that the "well-wisher" need not have said more in order to sow the seeds ofdoubt. 

As I watched her narrowly, I fancied also that from her tone thenewspapers had not been wholly wrong in mentioning their namestogether recently. 

"I hadn't intended to say anything more than to explain how I gotthe letter, " she went on wistfully. "I thought that perhaps youmight be interested in it. "

She paused and studied the toe of her dainty boot. "And, ofcourse, " she murmured, "I know that Mr. Warrington isn't dependentfor his income on the rent that comes in from such places. But--but I wish just the same that it wasn't true. I tried to call himup about the letter, but he wasn't at the office of the Warringtonestate, and no one seemed to know just where he was. "

She kept her eyes downcast as though afraid to betray just whatshe felt. 

"You will leave this with me?" asked Garrick, still scrutinizingthe letter. 

"Certainly, " she replied. "That is what I brought it for. Ithought it was only fair that he should know about it. "

Garrick regarded her keenly for a moment. "I am sure, MissWinslow, " he said, "that Mr. Warrington will thank you for yourfrankness. More than that, I feel sure that you need have no causeto worry about the insinuations of this letter. Don't judgeharshly until you have heard his side. There's a good deal ofgraft and vice talk flying around loose these days. Miss Winslow, you may depend on me to dig the truth out and not deceive you. "

"Thank you so much, " she said, as she rose to go; then, in a burstof confidence, added, "Of course, after all, I don't care so muchabout it myself--but, you know, my aunt--is so dreadfully prim andproper that she couldn't forgive a thing like this. She'd neverlet Mr. Warrington call on me again. "

Violet stopped and bit her lip. She had evidently not intended tosay as much as that. But having once said it, she did not seem towish to recall the words, either. 

"There, now, " she smiled, "don't you even hint to him that thatwas one of the reasons I called. "

Garrick had risen and was standing beside her, looking downearnestly into her upturned face. 

"I think I understand, Miss Winslow, " he said in a low voice, rapidly. "I cannot tell you all--yet. But I can promise you thateven if all were told--the truth, I mean--your faith in Warringtonwould be justified. " He leaned over. "Trust me, " he said simply. 

As she placed her small hand in Garrick's, she looked up into hisface, and with suppressed emotion, answered, "Thank you--I--Iwill. "

Then, with a quick gathering of her skirts, she turned and almostfled from the room. 

She had scarcely closed the door before Garrick was telephoninganxiously all over the city in order to get in touch withWarrington himself. 

"I'm not going to tell him too much about her visit, " he remarked, with a pleased smile at the outcome of the interview, though hisface clouded as his eye fell again on the blackmailing letter, lying before him. "It might make him think too highly of himself. Besides, I want to see, too, whether he has told us the wholetruth about the affair that night. "

Somehow or other it seemed impossible to find Warrington in any ofhis usual haunts, either at his office or at his club. 

Garrick had given it up, almost, as a bad job, when, half an hourlater, Warrington himself burst in on us, apparently expectingmore news about his car. 

Instead, Garrick handed him the letter. 

"Say, " he demanded as he ran through it with puckered face, thenslapped it down on the table before Guy, in a high state ofexcitement, "what do you make of that?"

He looked from one to the other of us blankly. 

"Isn't it bad enough to lose a car without being slandered aboutit into the bargain?" he asked heatedly, then adding in disgust, "And to do it in such an underhand way, writing to a girl likeViolet, and never giving me a chance to square myself. If I couldget my hands on that fellow, " he added viciously, "I'd qualify himfor the coroner!"

Warrington had flown into a towering and quite justifiable rage. Garrick, however, ignored his anger as natural under thecircumstances, and was about to ask him a question. 

"Just a moment, Garrick, " forestalled Warrington. "I know justwhat you are going to say. You are going to ask me about thosegambling places. Now, Garrick, I give you my word of honor that Idid not know until to-day that the property in that neighborhoodwas owned by our estate. I have been in that joint on Forty-eighthStreet--I'll admit that. But, you know, I'm no gambler. I've gonesimply to see the life, and--well, it has no attraction for me. Racing cars and motorboats don't go with poker chips and the redand black--not with me. As for the other place, I don't know anymore about it than--than you do, " he concluded vehemently. 

Warrington faced Garrick, his steel-blue eye unwavering. "You see, it's like this, " he resumed passionately, "since this viceinvestigation began, I have read a lot about landlords. Then, too, " he interjected with a mock wry face, "I knew that Violet'sAunt Emma had been a crusader or something of the sort. You see, virtue is NOT its own reward. I don't get credit even for what Iintended to do--quite the contrary. "

"How's that?" asked Garrick, respecting the young man's temper. 

"Why, it just occurred to me lately to go scouting around thecity, looking at the Warrington holdings, making some personalinquiries as to the conditions of the leases, the character of thetenants, and the uses to which they put the properties. The policehave compiled a list of all the questionable places in the cityand I have compared it with the list of our properties. I hadn'tcome to this one yet. But I shall call up our agent, make himadmit it, and cancel that lease. I'll close 'em up. I'll fightuntil every---"

"No, " interrupted Garrick, quickly, "no--not yet. Don't make anymove yet. I want to find out what the game is. It may be that itis someone who has tried and failed to get your tenant to comeacross with graft money. If we act without finding out first, wemight be playing into the hands of this blackmailer. "

Garrick had been holding the letter in his hand, examining itcritically. While he was speaking, he had taken a toothpick andwas running it hastily over the words, carefully studying them. His face was wrinkled, as if he were in deep thought. 

Without saying anything more, Garrick walked over to the windowsand pulled down the dark shades. Then he unrolled a huge whitesheet at one end of the office. 

From a corner he drew out what looked like a flat-topped stand, about the height of his waist, with a curious box-like arrangementon it, in which was a powerful light. For several minutes, heoccupied himself with the adjustment of this machine, switchingthe light off and on and focussing the lenses. 

Then he took the letter to Miss Winslow, laid it flat on themachine, switched on the light and immediately on the sheetappeared a very enlarged copy of the writing. 

"This is what has been called a rayograph by a detective of myacquaintance, " explained Garrick. "In some ways it is muchsuperior to using a microscope. "

He was tracing over the words with a pointer, much as he hadalready done with the toothpick. 

"Now, you must know, " he continued, "or you may not know, but itis a well-proved fact, that those who suffer from variousaffections of the nerves or heart often betray the fact in theirhandwriting. Of course, in cases where the disease has progressedvery far it may be evident to the naked eye even in the ordinaryhandwriting. But, it is there, to the eye of the expert, even inincipient cases. 

"In short, " he continued, engrossed in his subject, "what reallyhappens is that the pen acts as a sort of sphygmograph, registering the pulsations. I think you can readily see that whenthe writing is thrown on a screen, enlarged by the rayograph, thetremors of the pen are quite apparent. "

I studied the writing, following his pointer as it went over thelines and I began to understand vaguely what he was driving at. 

"The writer of that blackmailing letter, " continued Garrick, "as Ihave discovered both by hastily running over it with a tooth-pickand, more accurately, by enlarging and studying it with therayograph, is suffering from a peculiar conjunction of nervoustrouble and disease of the heart which is latent and has not yetmanifested itself, even to him. "

Garrick studied the writing, then added, thoughtfully, "if I knewhim, I might warn him in time. "

"A fellow like that needs only the warning of a club or of a goodpair of fists, " growled Warrington, impatiently. "How are yougoing to work to find him?"

"Well, " reasoned Garrick, rolling up the sheet and restoring theroom to its usual condition, "for one thing, the letter makes itpretty evident that he knows something about the gambling joint, perhaps is one of the regular habitues of the place. That was whyI didn't want you to take any steps to close up the placeimmediately. I want to go there and look it over while it is inoperation. Now, you admit that you have been in the place, don'tyou?"

"Oh, yes, " he replied, "I've been there with Forbes and the otherfellows, but as I told you, I don't go in for that sort of thing. "

"Well, " persisted Garrick, "you are sufficiently known, any way, to get in again. "

"Certainly. I can get in again. The man at the door will let mein--and a couple of friends, too, if that's what you mean. "

"That is exactly what I mean, " returned Garrick. "It's no use togo early. I want to see the place in full blast, just as theafter-theatre crowd is coming in. Suppose you meet us, Warrington, about half past ten or so. We can get in. They don't know anythingyet about your intention to cancel the lease and close up theplace, although apparently someone suspects it, or he wouldn'thave been so anxious to get that letter off to Miss Winslow. "

"Very well, " agreed Warrington, "I will meet you at the north endof 'Crime Square, ' as you call it, at that time. Good luck untilthen. "

"Not a bad fellow, at all, " commented Garrick when Warrington haddisappeared down the hall from the office. "I believe he means todo the square thing by every one. It's a shame he has been draggedinto a mess like this, that may affect him in ways that he doesn'tsuspect. Oh, well, there is nothing we can do for the present. I'll just add this clew of the handwriting to the clew of theautomobile tires against the day when we get--pshaw!--he has takenthe letter with him. I suppose it is safe enough in hispossession, though. He can't wait until he has proved to Violetthat he is honest. I don't blame him much. I told you, you know, that the younger set are just crazy over Violet Winslow. "

CHAPTER VI

THE GAMBLING DEN

In spite of the agitation that was going on at the time in thecity against gambling, we had no trouble in being admitted to theplace in Forty-eighth Street. They seemed to recognise Warrington, for no sooner had the lookout at the door peered through a littlegrating and seen him than the light woodwork affair was opened. 

To me, with even my slender knowledge of such matters, it hadseemed rather remarkable that only such a door should guard aplace that was so notorious. Once inside, however, the reason wasapparent. It didn't. On the outside there was merely such a dooras not to distinguish the house, a three-story and basementdwelling, of old brownstone, from the others in the street. 

As the outside door shut quickly, we found ourselves in a sort ofvestibule confronted by another door. Between the two the lookouthad his station. 

The second door was of the "ice-box" variety, as it was popularlycalled at the time, of heavy oak, studded with ax-defying bolts, swung on delicately balanced and oiled hinges, carefullyconcealed, about as impregnable as a door of steel might be. 

There were, as we found later, some steel doors inside, leading tothe roof and cellar, though not so thick. The windows werecarefully guarded inside by immense steel bars. The approachesfrom the back were covered with a steel network and everystaircase was guarded by a collapsible door. There seemed to be nopoint of attack that had been left unguarded. 

Yet, unless one had been like ourselves looking for thesefortifications, they would not have appeared much in evidence inthe face of the wealth of artistic furnishings that was lavishedon every hand. Inside the great entrance door was a sort of marblereception hall, richly furnished, and giving anything but theimpression of a gambling house. As a matter of fact, the firstfloor was pretty much of a blind. The gambling was all upstairs. 

We turned to a beautiful staircase of carved wood, and ascended. Everywhere were thick rugs into which the feet sank almost ankledeep. On the walls were pictures that must have cost a smallfortune. The furniture was of the costliest; there were splendidbronzes and objects of art on every hand. 

Gambling was going on in several rooms that we passed, but themain room was on the second floor, a large room reconstructed inthe old house, with a lofty ceiling and exquisitely carved trim. Concealed in huge vases were the lights, a new system, then, whichshed its rays in every direction without seeming to cast a shadowanywhere. The room was apparently windowless, and yet, thougheveryone was smoking furiously, the ventilation must have beenperfect. 

There was, apparently, a full-fledged poolroom in one part of thehouse, closed now, of course, as the races for the day were run. But I could imagine it doing a fine business in the afternoon. There were many other games now in progress, games of everydescription, from poker to faro, keno, klondike, and roulette. There was nothing of either high or low degree with which theventuresome might not be accommodated. 

As Warrington conducted us from one room to another, Garrick notedeach carefully. Along the middle of the large room stretched aroulette table. We stopped to watch it. 

"Crooked as it can be, " was Garrick's comment after watching itfor five minutes or so. 

He had not said it aloud, naturally, for even the crowd in eveningclothes about it, who had lost or would lose, would have resentedsuch an imputation. 

For the most part there was a solemn quiet about the board, brokenonly by the rattle of the ball and the click of chips. There wasan absence of the clink of gold pieces that one hears as thecroupier rakes them in at the casinos on the continent. Nor didthere seem to be the tense faces that one might expect. Oftenthere was the glint of an eye, or a quick and muffled curse, butfor the most part everyone, no matter how great a loser, seemedrespectable and prosperous. The tragedies, as we came to know, were elsewhere. 

We sauntered into another room where they were playing keno. Kenowas, we soon found, a development or an outgrowth of lotto, inwhich cards were sold to the players, bearing numbers which werecovered with buttons, as in lotto. The game was won when a row wasfull after drawing forth the numbers on little balls from a"goose. "

"Like the roulette wheel, " said Garrick grimly, "the 'goose' iscrooked, and if I had time I could show you how it is done. "

We passed by the hazard boards as too complicated for the limitedtime at our disposal. 

It was, however, the roulette table which seemed to interestGarrick most, partly for the reason that most of the playersflocked about it. 

The crowd around the table on the second floor was several deep, now. Among those who were playing I noticed a new face. It was ofa tall, young man much the worse, apparently, for the supposedgood time he had had already. The game seemed to have sobered himup a bit, for he was keen as to mind, now, although a trifle shakyas to legs. 

He glanced up momentarily from his close following of the play aswe approached. 

"Hello, W. , " he remarked, as he caught sight of our youngcompanion. 

A moment later he had gone back to the game as keen as ever. 

"Hello, F. , " greeted Warrington. Then, aside to us, he added, "Youknow they don't use names now in gambling places if they can helpit. Initials do just as well. That is Forbes, of whom I told you. He's a young fellow of good family--but I am afraid he is goingpretty much to the bad, or will go, if he doesn't quit soon. Iwish I could stop him. He's a nice chap. I knew him well atcollege and we have chummed about a great deal. He's here too muchof the time for his own good. "

The thing was fascinating, I must admit, no matter what the moralsof it were. I became so engrossed that I did not notice a manstanding opposite us. I was surprised when he edged over towardsus slowly, then whispered to Garrick, "Meet me downstairs in thegrill in five minutes, and have a bite to eat. I have somethingimportant to say. Only, be careful and don't get me 'in Dutch'here. "

The man had a sort of familiar look and his slang certainlyreminded me of someone we had met. 

"Who was it?" I inquired under my breath, as he disappeared amongthe players. 

"Didn't you recognize him?" queried Garrick. "Why, that wasHerman, Dillon's man, --the fellow, you know, who is investigatingthis place. "

I had not recognized the detective in evening clothes. Indeed, Ifelt that unless he were known here already his disguise wasperfect. 

Garrick managed to leave Warrington for a time under the pretextthat he wanted him to keep an eye on Forbes while we explored theplace further. We walked leisurely down the handsome staircaseinto the grill and luncheon room downstairs. 

"Well, have you found out anything?" asked a voice behind us. 

We turned. It was Herman who had joined us. Without pausing for ananswer he added, "I suppose you are aware of the character of thisplace? It looks fine, but the games are all crooked, and I guessthere are some pretty desperate characters here, from allaccounts. I shouldn't like to fall afoul of any of them, if I wereyou. "

"Oh, no, " replied Garrick, "it wouldn't be pleasant. But we camein well introduced, and I don't believe anyone suspects. "

Several others, talking and laughing loudly to cover their chagrinover losses, perhaps, entered the buffet. 

With the gratuitous promise to stand by us in trouble of any kind, Herman excused himself, and returned to watch the play about theroulette table. 

Garrick and I leisurely finished the little bite of salad we hadordered, then strolled upstairs again. 

The play was becoming more and more furious. Forbes was losingagain, but was sticking to it with a grim determination that wasworthy of a better cause. Warrington had already made one attemptto get him away but had not succeeded. 

"Well, " remarked Garrick, as we three made our way slowly to thecoatroom downstairs, "I think we have seen enough of this for to-night. It isn't so very late, after all. I wonder if it would bepossible to get into that ladies' poolroom on the next street? Ishould like to see that place. "

"Angus could get us in, if anyone could, " replied Warringtonthoughtfully. "Wait here a minute. I'll see if I can get him awayfrom the wheel long enough. "

Five minutes later he came back, with Forbes in tow. He shookhands with us cordially, in fact a little effusively. Perhaps Imight have liked the young fellow if I could have taken him inhand for a month or two, and knocked some of the silly ideas hehad out of his head. 

Forbes called a taxicab, a taxicab apparently being the opensesame. One might have gone afoot and have looked ever so muchlike a "good thing" and he would not have been admitted. But suchis the simplicity of the sophistication of the keepers of suchplaces that a motor car opens all locks and bolts. 

It seemed to be a peculiar place and as nearly as I could make outwas in a house almost in the rear of the one we had just comefrom. 

We were politely admitted by a negro maid, who offered to take ourcoats. 

"No, " answered Forbes, apparently with an eye to getting out asquickly as possible, "we won't stay long tonight. I just camearound to introduce my friends to Miss Lottie. I must get backright away. "

For some reason or other he seemed very anxious to leave us. Isurmised that the gambling fever was running high and that he hadhopes of a change of luck. At any rate, he was gone, and we hadobtained admittance to the ladies' pool room. 

We strolled into one of the rooms in which the play was on. Thegame was at its height, with huge stacks of chips upon the tablesand the players chatting gayly. There was no large crowd there, however. Indeed, as we found afterward, it was really in theafternoon that it was most crowded, for it was rather a poolroomthan a gambling joint, although we gathered from the gossip thatsome stiff games of bridge were played there. Both men and womenwere seated at the poker game that was in progress before thelittle green table. The women were richly attired and looked as ifthey had come from good families. 

We were introduced to several, but as it was evident that theywere passing under assumed names, whatever the proprietor of theplace might know of them, I made little effort to remember thenames, although I did study the faces carefully. 

It was not many minutes before we met Miss Lottie, as everyonecalled the woman who presided over this feminine realm of chance. Miss Lottie was a finely gowned woman, past middle age, butremarkably well preserved, and with a figure that must haveoccasioned much thought to fashion along the lines of the presentslim styles. There seemed to be a man who assisted in the conductof the place, a heavy-set fellow with a closely curling mustache. But as he kept discreetly in the offing, we did not see much ofhim. 

Miss Lottie was frankly glad to see us, coming so well introduced, and outspokenly disappointed that we would not take a seat in thegame that was in progress. However, Garrick passed that over bypromising to come around soon. Excise laws were apparently held inpuny respect in this luxurious atmosphere, and while thehospitable Miss Lottie went to summon a servant to bringrefreshments--at our expense--we had ample opportunity to glanceabout at the large room in which we were seated. 

Garrick gazed long and curiously at an arc-light enclosed in asoft glass globe in the center of the ceiling, as though it hadsuggested an idea of some sort to him. 

Miss Lottie, who had left us for a few moments, returnedunexpectedly to find him still gazing at it. 

"We keep that light burning all the time, " she remarked, noticinghis gaze. "You see, in the daytime we never use the windows. It isalways just like it is now, night or day. It makes no differencewith us. You know, if we ever should be disturbed by the police, "she rattled on, "this is my house and I am giving a little privateparty to a number of my friends. "

I had heard of such places but had never seen one before. I knewthat well-dressed women, once having been caught in the toils ofgambling, and perhaps afraid to admit their losses to theirhusbands, or, often having been introduced through gambling to farworse evils, were sent out from these poker rendezvous to theBroadway cafes, there to flirt with men, and rope them into thegame. 

I could not help feeling that perhaps some of the richly gownedwomen in the house were in reality "cappers" for the game. As Istudied the faces, I wondered what tragedies lay back of theserouged and painted faces. I saw broken homes, ruined lives, evenlost honor written on them. Surely, I felt, this was a case worthtaking up if by any chance we could put a stop or even set alimitation to this nefarious traffic. 

"Have you ever had any trouble?" Garrick asked as we sipped at therefreshments. 

"Very little, " replied Miss Lottie, then as if the very manner ofour introduction had stamped us all as "good fellows" to whom shecould afford to be a little confidential in capturing ourpatronage, she added nonchalantly, "We had a sort of wild time acouple of nights ago. "

"How was that?" asked Garrick in a voice of studied politenessthat carefully concealed the aching curiosity he had for her totalk. 

"Well, " she answered slowly, "several ladies and gentlemen werehere, playing a little high. They--well, they had a little toomuch to drink, I guess. There was one girl, who was the worst ofall. She was pretty far gone. Why, we had to put her out--carryher out to the car that she had come in with her friend. You knowwe can't stand for any rough stuff like that--no sir. This houseis perfectly respectable and proper and our patrons understandit. "

The story, or rather, the version of it, seemed to interestGarrick, as I knew it would. 

"Who was the girl?" he asked casually. "Did you know her? Was sheone of your regular patrons?"

"Knew her only by sight, " returned Miss Lottie hastily, now alittle vexed, I imagined, at Guy's persistence, "like lots ofpeople who are introduced here--and come again several times. "

The woman was evidently sorry that she had mentioned the incident, and was trying to turn the conversation to the advantages of herestablishment, not the least of which were her facilities forprivate games in little rooms in various parts of the house. Itseemed all very risque to me, although I tried to appear to thinkit quite the usual thing, though I was careful to say that herswas the finest of such places I had ever seen. Still, the memoryof Garrick's questioning seemed to linger. She had not expected, Iknew, that we would take any further interest in her story than toaccept it as proof of how careful she was of her clientele. 

Garrick was quick to take the cue. He did not arouse any furthersuspicion by pursuing the subject. Apparently he was convincedthat it had been Rena Taylor of whom Miss Lottie spoke. Whatreally happened we knew no more now than before. Perhaps MissLottie herself knew--or she might not know. Garrick quiteevidently was willing to let future developments in the case showwhat had really happened. There was nothing to be gained byforcing things at this stage of the game, either in the gamblingden around the corner or here. 

We chatted along for several minutes longer on inconsequentialsubjects, treating as important those trivialities which Bohemiaconsiders important and scoffing at the really good and truethings of life that the demi-monde despises. It was all banalitynow, for we had touched upon the real question in our minds andhad bounded as lightly off it as a toy balloon bounds off anopposing surface. 

Warrington had kept silent during the visit, I noticed, and seemedrelieved when it was over. I could not imagine that he was knownhere inasmuch as they treated him quite as they treated us. 

Apparently, though, he had no relish for a possible report of theexcursion to get to Miss Winslow's ears. He was the first toleave, as Garrick, after paying for our refreshments and making aneat remark or two about the tasteful way in which the gamblingroom was furnished, rescued our hats and coats from the negroservant, and said good-night with a promise to drop in again. 

"What would Mrs. De Lancey think of THAT?" Garrick could not helpsaying, as we reached the street. 

Warrington gave a nervous little forced laugh, not at all such ashe might have given had Mrs. De Lancey not been the aunt of thegirl who had entered his life. 

Then he caught himself and said hastily, "I don't care what shethinks. It's none of her---"

He cut the words short, as if fearing to be misinterpreted eitherway. 

For several squares he plodded along silently, then, as we hadaccomplished the object of the evening, excused himself, with therequest that we keep him fully informed of every incident in thecase. 

"Warrington doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, " commentedGarrick as we bent our steps to our own, or rather his, apartment, "but it is evident enough that he is thinking all the time ofViolet Winslow. "

CHAPTER VII

THE MOTOR BANDIT

Early the next morning, the telephone bell began to ringviolently. The message must have been short, for I could notgather from Garrick's reply what it was about, although I couldtell by the startled look on his face that something unexpectedhad happened. 

"Hurry and finish dressing, Tom, " he called, as he hung up thereceiver. 

"What's the matter?" I asked, from my room, still struggling withmy tie. 

"Warrington was severely injured in a motor-car accident late lastnight, or rather early this morning, near Tuxedo. "

"Near Tuxedo?" I repeated incredulously. "How could he have got upthere? It was midnight when we left him in New York. "

"I know it. Apparently he must have wanted to see Miss Winslow. She is up there, you know. I suppose that in order to be therethis morning, early, he decided to start after he left us. Ithought he seemed anxious to get away. Besides, you remember hetook that letter yesterday afternoon, and I totally forgot to askhim for it last night. I'll wager it was on account of thatslanderous letter that he wanted to go, that he wanted to explainit to her as soon as he could. "

There had been no details in the hasty message over the wire, except that Warrington was now at the home of a Doctor Mead, alocal physician in a little town across the border of New York andNew Jersey. The more I thought about it, the more I felt that itwas extremely unlikely that it could have been an accident, afterall. Might it not have been the result of an attack or a trap laidby some strong-arm man who had set out to get him and had almostsucceeded in accomplishing his purpose of "getting him right, " touse the vernacular of the class?

We made the trip by railroad, passing the town where the reporthad come to us before of the finding of the body of Rena Taylor. There was, of course, no one at the station to meet us, and, afterwasting some time in learning the direction, we at last walked toDr. Mead's cottage, a quaint home, facing the state road that ledfrom Suffern up to the Park, and northward. 

Dr. Mead, who had telephoned, admitted us himself. We foundWarrington swathed in bandages, and only half conscious. He hadbeen under the influence of some drug, but, before that, thedoctor told us, he had been unconscious and had only one or twointervals in which he was sufficiently lucid to talk. 

"How did it happen?" asked Garrick, almost as soon as we hadentered the doctor's little office. 

"I had had a bad case up the road, " replied the doctor slowly, "and it had kept me out late. I was driving my car along at acautious pace homeward, some time near two o'clock, when I came toa point in the road where there are hills on one side and theriver on the other. As I neared the curve, a rather sharp curve, too, I remember the lights on my own car were shining on the whitefence that edged the river side of the road. I was keepingcarefully on my own side, which was toward the hill. 

"As I was about to turn, I heard the loud purring of an enginecoming in my direction, and a moment later I saw a car withglaring headlights, driven at a furious pace, coming right at me. It slowed up a little, and I hugged the hill as close as I could, for I know some of these reckless young drivers up that way, andthis curve was in the direction where the temptation is for onegoing north to get on the wrong side of the road--that is, myside--in order to take advantage of the natural slope of themacadam in turning the curve at high speed. Still, this fellowdidn't prove so bad, after all. He gave me a wide berth. 

"Just then there came a blinding flash right out of the darkness. Back of his car a huge, dark object had loomed up almost like aghost. It was another car, back of the first one, without a singlelight, travelling apparently by the light shed by the forward car. It had overtaken the first and had cut in between us with not halfa foot to spare on either side. It was the veriest piece of sheerluck I ever saw that we did not all go down together. 

"With the flash I heard what sounded like a bullet zip out of thedarkness. The driver of the forward car stiffened out for amoment. Then he pitched forward, helpless, over the steeringwheel. His car dashed ahead, straight into the fence instead oftaking the curve, and threw the unconscious driver. Then the carwrecked itself. "

"And the car in the rear?" inquired Garrick eagerly. 

"Dashed ahead between us safely around the curve--and was gone. Icaught just one glimpse of its driver--a man all huddled up, hiscollar up over his neck and chin, his cap pulled forward over hiseyes, goggles covering the rest of his face, and shrouded in whatseemed to be a black coat, absolutely as unrecognizable as if hehad been a phantom bandit, or death itself. He was steering withone hand, and in the other he held what must have been arevolver. "

"And then?" prompted Garrick. 

"I had stopped with my heart in my mouth at the narrowness of myown escape from the rushing black death. Pursuit was impossible. My car was capable of no such burst of speed as his. And then, too, there was a groaning man down in the ravine below. I got out, clambered over the fence, and down in the shrubbery into the pitchdarkness. 

"Fortunately, the man had been catapulted out before his carturned over. I found him, and with all the strength I could musterand as gently as I was able carried him up to the road. When Iheld him under the light of my lamps, I saw at once that there wasnot a moment to lose. I fixed him in the rear of my car ascomfortably as I could and then began a race to get him home herewhere I have almost a private hospital of my own, as quickly aspossible. "

Cards in his pocket had identified Warrington and Dr. Meadremembered having heard the name. The prompt attention of thedoctor had undoubtedly saved the young man's life. 

Over and over again, Dr. Mead said, in his delirium Warrington hadrepeated the name, "Violet--Violet!" It was as Garrick hadsurmised, his desire to stand well in her eyes that had promptedthe midnight journey. Yet who the assailant might be, neither Dr. Mead nor the broken raving of Warrington seemed to afford even theslightest clew. That he was a desperate character, without doubtin desperate straits over something, required no great acumen todeduce. 

Toward morning in a fleeting moment of lucidity, Warrington hadmentioned Garrick's name in such a way that Dr. Mead had looked itup in the telephone directory and then at the earliest moment hadcalled up. 

"Exactly the right thing, " reassured Garrick. "Can't you think ofanything else that would identify the driver of that other car?"

"Only that he was a wonderful driver, that fellow, " pursued thedoctor, admiration getting the better of his horror now that thething was over. "I couldn't describe the car, except that it was abig one and seemed to be of a foreign make. He was crowdingWarrington as much as he dared with safety to himself--and not alight on his own car, too, remember. "

Garrick's face was puckered in thought. 

"And the most remarkable thing of all about it, " added the doctor, rising and going over to a white enameled cabinet in the corner ofhis office, "was that wound from the pistol. "

The doctor paused to emphasize the point he was about to make. "Apparently it put Warrington out, " he resumed. "And yet, afterall, I find that it is only a very superficial flesh wound of theshoulder. Warrington's condition is really due to the contusionshe received owing to his being thrown from the car. His car wasn'tgoing very fast at the time, for it had slowed down for me. In oneway that was fortunate--although one might say it was the cause ofeverything, since his slowing down gave the car behind a chance tocreep up on him the few feet necessary. 

"Really I am sure that even the shock of such a wound wasn'tenough to make an experienced driver like Warrington lose controlof the machine. It is a fairly wide curve, after all, and--well, my contention is proved by the fact that I examined the wreck ofthe car this morning and found that he had had time to shut offthe gas and cut out the engine. He had time to think of and dothat before he lost absolute control of the car. "

Dr. Mead had been standing by the cabinet as he talked. Now heopened it and took from it the bullet which he had probed out ofthe wound. He looked at it a minute himself, then handed it toGarrick. I bent over also and examined it as it lay in Guy's hand. 

At first I thought it was an ordinary bullet. But the more Iexamined it the more I was convinced that there was somethingpeculiar about it. In the nose, which was steel-jacketed, wereseveral little round depressions, just the least fraction of aninch in depth. 

"It is no wonder Warrington was put out, even by that superficialwound, " remarked Garrick at last. "His assailant's aim may havebeen bad, as it must necessarily have been from one rapidlyapproaching car at a person in another rapidly moving car, also. But the motor bandit, whoever he is, provided against that. Thatbullet is what is known as an anesthetic bullet. "

"An anesthetic bullet?" repeated both Dr. Mead and myself. "Whatis that?"

"A narcotic bullet, " Garrick explained, "a sleep-producing bullet, if you please, a sedative bullet that lulls its victim into almostinstant slumber. It was invented quite recently by a Pittsburghscientist. The anesthetic bullet provides the poor marksman withall the advantages of the expert gunman of unerring aim. "

I marvelled at the ingenuity of the man who could figure out howto overcome the seeming impossibility of accurate shooting from acar racing at high speed. Surely, he must be a desperate fellow. 

While we were talking, the doctor's wife who had been attendingWarrington until a nurse arrived, came to inform him that theeffect of the sedative, which he had administered while Warringtonwas restless and groaning, was wearing off. We waited a littlewhile, and then Dr. Mead himself informed us that we might see ourfriend for a minute. 

Even in his half-drowsy state of pain Warrington appeared torecognise Garrick and assume that he had come in response to hisown summons. Garrick bent down, and I could just distinguish whatWarrington was trying to say to him. 

"Wh--where's Violet?" he whispered huskily, "Does she know? Don'tlet her get--frightened--I'll be--all right. "

Garrick laid his hand on Warrington's unbandaged shoulder, butsaid nothing. 

"The--the letter, " he murmured ramblingly. "I have it--in myapartment--in the little safe. I was going to Tuxedo--to seeViolet--explain slander--tell her closing place--didn't know itwas mine before. Good thing to close it--Forbes is a heavy loser. She doesn't know that. "

Warrington lapsed back on his pillow and Dr. Mead beckoned to usto withdraw without exciting him any further. 

"What difference does it make whether she knows about Forbes ornot?" I queried as we tiptoed down the hall. 

Garrick shook his head doubtfully. "Can't say, " he repliedsuccinctly. "It may be that Forbes, too, has aspirations. "

The idea sent me off into a maze of speculations, but it did notenlighten me much. At any rate, I felt, Warrington had said enoughto explain his presence in that part of the country. On one thing, as I have said, Garrick had guessed right. The blackmailing letterand what we had seen the night before at the crooked gamblingjoint had been too much for him. He had not been able to rest aslong as he was under a cloud with Miss Winslow until he had had achance to set himself right in her eyes. 

There seemed to be nothing that we could do for him just then. Hewas in excellent hands, and now that the doctor knew who he was, atrained nurse had even been sent for from the city and arrived onthe train following our own, thus relieving Mrs. Mead of herfaithful care of him. 

Garrick gave the nurse strict instructions to make exact notes ofanything that Warrington might say, and then requested the doctorto take us to the scene of the tragedy. We were about to start, when Garrick excused himself and hurried back into the house, reappearing in a few minutes. 

"I thought perhaps, after all, it would be best to let MissWinslow know of the accident, as long as it isn't likely to turnout seriously in the end for Warrington, " he explained, joining usagain in Dr. Mead's car which was waiting in front of the house. "So I called up her aunt's at Tuxedo and when Miss Winslowanswered the telephone I broke the news to her as gently as Icould. Warrington need have no fear about that girl, " he added. 

The wrecked car, we found, had not yet been moved, nor had thebroken fence been repaired. It was, in fact, an accident worthstudying topographically. That part of the road itself near thefence seemed to interest Garrick greatly. Two or three cars passedwhile we waited and he noted how carefully each of them seemed toavoid that side toward the broken fence, as though it werehaunted. 

"I hope they've all done that, " Garrick remarked, as he continuedto examine the road, which was a trifle damp under the high treesthat shaded it. 

As he worked, I could not believe that it was wholly fancy thatcaused me to think of him as searching with dilated nostrils, likea scientific human bloodhound. For, it was not long before I beganto realize what he was looking for in the marks of cars left onthe oiled roadway. 

During perhaps half an hour he continued studying the road, aboveand below the exact point of the accident. At length a lowexclamation from him brought me to his side. He had dropped downin the grease, regardless of his knees and was peering at somerather deep imprints in the surface dressing. There, for a fewfeet, were plainly the marks of the outside tires of a car, stillunobliterated. 

Garrick had pulled out copies of the photographs he had made ofthe tire marks that had been left at the scene of the finding ofthe unfortunate Rena Taylor's body, and was busy comparing themwith the marks that were before him. 

"Of course, " Garrick muttered to me, "if the anti-skid marks ofthe tires were different, it would have proved nothing, just as inthe other case where we looked for the tire prints. But here, too, a glance shows that at least it is the same make of tires. "

He continued his comparison. It did not take me long to surmisewhat he was doing. He was taking the two sets of marks and, inchby inch, going over them, checking up the little round metalinsertions that were placed in this style of tire to give it afirmer grip. 

"Here's one missing, there's another, " he cried excitedly. "ByJove, it can't be mere coincidence. There's one that is worn--another broken. They correspond. Yes, that MUST be the same car, in each case. And if it was the stolen car, then it wasWarrington's own car that was used in pursuing him and in almostmaking away with him!"

CHAPTER VIII

THE EXPLANATION

We had not noticed a car which had stopped just past us andGarrick was surprised at hearing his own name called. 

We looked up from contemplating the discovery he had made in theroad, to see Miss Winslow waving to us. She had motored down fromTuxedo immediately after receiving the message over the telephone, and with her keen eye had picked out both the place of theaccident and ourselves studying it. 

As we approached, I could see that she was much more pale thanusual. Evidently her anxiety for Warrington was thoroughlygenuine. The slanderous letter had not shaken her faith in him, yet. 

She had left her car and was walking back along the road with ustoward the broken fence. Garrick had been talking to her earnestlyand now, having introduced her to Dr. Mead, the doctor and hedecided to climb down to inspect the wrecked car itself in theravine below. 

Miss Winslow cast a quick look from the broken fence down at thetorn and twisted wreckage of the car and gave a suppressed littlecry and shudder. 

"How is Mortimer?" she asked of me eagerly, for I had agreed tostay with her while the others went down the slope. "I mean how ishe really? Is he likely to be better soon, as Mr. Garrick saidover the telephone?" she appealed. 

"Surely--absolutely, " I assured her, knowing that if Garrick hadsaid that he had meant it. "Miss Winslow, believe me, neither Mr. Garrick nor Dr. Mead is concealing anything. It is pretty bad, ofcourse. Such things are always bad. But it might be far worse. Andbesides, the worst now has passed. "

Garrick had already promised to accompany her over to Dr. Mead'safter he had made his examination of the wrecked car to confirmwhat the doctor had already observed. It took several minutes forthem to satisfy themselves and meanwhile Violet Winslow, alreadyhighly unstrung by the news from Garrick, waited more and morenervously. 

In spite of his careful examination of the wrecked car, Garrickfound practically nothing more than Dr. Mead had already told him. It was with considerable relief that Miss Winslow saw the twoagain climbing up the slope in the direction of the road. 

A few minutes later we were on our way back, Dr. Mead and Garrickleading the way in the doctor's car, while I accompanied MissWinslow in her own car. 

She said little, and it was plain to see that she was consumed byanxiety. Now and then she would ask a question about the accident, and although I tried in every way to divert her mind to othersubjects she unfailingly came back to that. 

Tempering the details as much as I could I repeated for her justwhat had happened to the best of our knowledge. 

"And you have no idea who it could have been?" she asked turningthose liquid eyes of hers on my face. 

If there were any secret about it, it was perhaps fortunate that Idid not know. I don't think I am more than ordinarily susceptibleand I know I did not delude myself that Miss Winslow ever could beanything except a friend to either Garrick or myself. But I felt Icould not resist the appeal in those eyes. I wondered if eventhey, by some magic intuition, might not pierce the very soul ofman and uncover a lying heart. I felt that Warrington could nothave been other than he said he was and still have been hasteningto meet those eyes. 

"Miss Winslow, " I answered, "I have no more idea than you have whoit could be. "

I was telling the truth and I felt that I could meet her gaze. 

There must have been something about how I had phrased my answerthat caused her to look at me more searchingly than before. Suddenly she turned her face away and gazed at the passinglandscape from the car. 

She said nothing, but as I continued to watch her finely mouldedfeatures, I saw that she was making an effort to control herself. It flashed over me, somehow, that perhaps, after all, she herselfsuspected someone. It was not that she said anything. It wasmerely an indefinable impression I received. 

Had Warrington any enemies, not in the underworld, but among thoseof his own set, rivals, perhaps, who might even stoop to securethe aid of those of the underworld who could be bought to commitany crime in the calendar for a price? I did not pause to examinethe plausibility or the impossibility of such a theory. Whatinterested me was whether in her mind there was such a thought. Had she, perhaps, really more of an idea than I who it could be?She betrayed nothing of what her intuition told her, but I feltsure that, even though she knew nothing, there was at leastsomething she feared. 

At last we arrived at Dr. Mead's and I handed her out of the carand into the tastefully furnished little house. There was an airof quietness about it that often indefinably pervades a house inwhich there is illness or a tragedy. 

"May I--see him?" pleaded Miss Winslow, as Dr. Mead placed a chairfor her. 

I wondered what he would have done if there had been some goodreason why he should resist the pleading of her deep eyes. 

"Why--er--for a minute--yes, " he answered. "Later, soon, he maysee visitors longer, but just now I think for a few hours the lesshe is disturbed the better. "

The doctor excused himself for a moment to look at his patient andprepare him for the visit. Meanwhile Miss Winslow waited in thereception room downstairs, still very pale and nervous. 

Warrington was in much less pain now than he had been when we leftand Dr. Mead decided that, since the nurse had made him so muchmore comfortable, no further drug was necessary. In fact as hisnatural vitality due to his athletic habits and clean livingasserted itself, it seemed as if his injuries which at first hadlooked so serious were not likely to prove as bad as the doctorhad anticipated. 

Still, he was badly enough as it was. The new nurse smoothed outhis pillows and deftly tried to conceal as much as she could thatwould suggest how badly he was injured and at last Violet Winslowwas allowed to enter the room where the poor boy lay. 

Miss Winslow never for a moment let her wonderful self-controlfail her. Quickly and noiselessly, like a ministering angel, sheseemed to float rather than walk over the space from the door tothe bed. 

As she bent over him and whispered, "Mortimer!" the simple toneseemed to have an almost magic effect on him. 

He opened his eyes which before had been languidly closed andgazed up at her face as if he saw a vision. Slowly the expressionon his face changed as he realized that it was indeed Violetherself. In spite of the pain of his hurts which must have beenintense a smile played over his features, as if he realized thatit would never do to let her know how serious had been hiscondition. 

As she bent over her hand had rested on the white covers of thebed. Feebly, in spite of the bandages that swathed the arm nearesther, he put out his own brawny hand and rested it on hers. She didnot withdraw it, but passed the other hand gently over histhrobbing forehead. Never have I seen a greater transformation inan invalid than was evident in Mortimer Warrington. No tonic inall the pharmacopoeia of Dr. Mead could have worked a morewonderful change. 

Not a word was said by either Warrington or Violet for severalseconds. They seemed content just to gaze into each other's faces, oblivious to us. 

Warrington was the first to break the silence, in answer to whathe knew must be her unspoken question. 

"Your aunt--gambling, " he murmured feebly, trying hard to connecthis words so as to appear not so badly off as he had when he hadspoken before. "I didn't know--till they told me--that the estateowned it--was coming to tell you--going to cancel the lease--closeit up--no one ever lose money there again--"

The words, jerky though they were, cost him a great physicaleffort to say. She seemed to realize it, but there was a look oftriumph on her face as she understood. 

She had not been mistaken. Warrington was all that she had thoughthim to be. 

He was looking eagerly into her face and as he looked he read init the answer to the questionings that had sent him off in theearly hours of the morning on his fateful ride to Tuxedo. 

Dr. Mead cleared his throat. Miss Winslow recognised it as asignal that the time was growing short for the interview. 

Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand from his, their eyes metanother instant, and with a hasty word of sympathy andencouragement she left the room, conscious now that other eyeswere watching. 

"Oh, to think it was to tell me that that he got into it all, " shecried, as she sank into a deep chair in the reception room, endeavouring not to give way to her feelings, now that the strainwas off and she had no longer to keep a brave face. "I--I feelguilty!"

"I wouldn't say that, " soothed Garrick. "Who knows? Perhaps if hehad stayed in the city--they might have succeeded, --whoever it wasback of this thing. "

She looked up at Garrick, startled, I thought, with the sameexpression I had seen when she turned her face away in the car andI got the impression that she felt more than she knew of the case. 

"I may--see--Mr. Warrington again soon?" she asked, now againmistress of her feelings after Garrick's interruption that hadserved to take her mind off a morbid aspect of the affair. 

"Surely, " agreed Dr. Mead. "I expect his progress to be rapidafter this. "

"Thank you, " she murmured, as she slowly rose and prepared to makethe return trip to her aunt's home. 

"Oh, Mr. Garrick, " she confided, as he helped her on with thewraps she had thrown carelessly on a chair when she entered, "Ican't help it--I do feel guilty. Perhaps he thinks I am--like AuntEmma---"

"Perhaps it was quite as much to convince your aunt as you that hetook the trip, " suggested Garrick. 

Miss Winslow understood. "Why is it, " she murmured, "thatsometimes people with the best intentions manage to bring aboutthings that are--more terrible?"

Garrick smiled. Quite evidently she and her aunt were not exactlyin tune. He said nothing. 

As for Dr. Mead he seemed really pleased, for the patient hadbrightened up considerably after even the momentary glimpse he hadhad of Violet. Altogether I felt that although they had seen eachother only for a moment, it had done both good. Miss Winslow'sfears had been quieted and Warrington had been encouraged by therealisation that, in spite of its disastrous ending, his journeyhad accomplished its purpose anyway. 

There was, as Dr. Mead assured us, every prospect now thatWarrington would pull through after the murderous assault that hadbeen made on him. 

We saw Miss Winslow safely off on her return trip, much relievedby the promise of the doctor that she might call once a day to seehow the patient was getting along. 

Warrington was now resting more easily than he had since theaccident and Garrick, having exhausted the possibilities ofinvestigation at the scene of the accident, announced that hewould return to the city. 

At the railroad terminus he called up both the apartment and theoffice in order to find out whether we had had any visitors duringour absence. No one had called at the apartment, but the officeboy downtown said that there was a man who had called and wascoming back again. 

A half hour or so later when we arrived at the office we foundMcBirney seated there, patiently determined to find Garrick. 

Evidently the news of the assault on Warrington had travelledfast, for the first thing McBirney wanted to know was how ithappened and how his client was. In a few words Garrick told himas much about it as was necessary. McBirney listened attentively, but we could see that he was bursting with his own budget of news. 

"And, McBirney, " concluded Garrick, without going into thequestion of the marks of the tires, "most remarkable of all, I amconvinced that the car in which his assailant rode was no otherthan the Mercedes that was stolen from Warrington in the firstplace. "

"Say, " exclaimed McBirney in surprise, "that car must be all overat once!"

"Why--what do you mean?"

"You know I have my own underground sources of information, "explained the detective with pardonable pride at adding even arumour to the budget of news. "Of course you can't be certain ofsuch things, but one of my men, who is scouting around theTenderloin looking for what he can find, tells me that he saw acar near that gambling joint on Forty-eighth Street and that itmay have been the repainted and renumbered Warrington car--atleast it tallies with the description that we got from the garagekeeper in north Jersey. 

"Did he see who drove it?" asked Garrick eagerly. 

"Not very well. It was a short, undersized man, as nearly as hecould make out. Someone whom he did not recognize jumped in itfrom the gambling house and they disappeared. Even though my man, his suspicions aroused, tried to follow them in a taxicab theymanaged to leave him behind. "

"In what direction did they go?" asked Garrick. 

"Toward the West Side--where those fly-by-night garages are alllocated. "

"Or, perhaps, the Jersey ferries, " suggested Garrick. 

"Well, I thought you might like to know about this undersizeddriver, " said McBirney a little sulkily because Garrick had notdisplayed as much enthusiasm as he expected. 

"I do, " hastened Garrick. "Of course I do. And it may prove to bea very important clew. But I was just running ahead of your story. The undersized man couldn't have figured in the case afterward, assuming that it was the car. He must have left it, probably inthe city. Have you any idea who it could be?"

"Not unless he might be an employee or a keeper of one of thosenight-hawk garages, " persisted McBirney. "That is possible. "

"Quite, " agreed Garrick. 

McBirney had delivered his own news and in turn had received ours, or at least such of it as Garrick chose to tell at present. He wasapparently satisfied and rose to go. 

"Keep after that undersized fellow, will you?" asked Garrick. "Ifyou could find out who he is and he should happen to be connectedwith one of those garages we might get on the right trail atlast. "

"I will, " promised McBirney. "He's evidently an expert driver ofmotor cars himself; my man could see that. "

McBirney had gone. Garrick sat for several minutes gazing squarelyat me. Then he leaned back in his chair, with his hands behind hishead. 

"Mark my words, Marshall, " he observed slowly, "someone connectedwith that gambling joint in some way has got wind of the fact thatWarrington is going to revoke the lease and close it up. We've gotto beat them to it--that's all. "

CHAPTER IX

THE RAID

Garrick was evidently turning over and over in his mind some planof action. 

"This thing has gone just about far enough, " he remarkedmeditatively, looking at his watch. It was now well along in theafternoon. 

"But what do you intend doing?" I asked, regarding the wholeaffair so far as a hopeless mystery from which I could not seethat we had extracted so much as a promising clew. 

"Doing?" he echoed. "Why, there is only one thing to do, and thatis to take the bull by the horns, to play the game without anyfurther attempt at finessing. I shall see Dillon, get a warrant, and raid that gambling place--that's all. "

I had no counter suggestion to offer. In fact the plan ratherappealed to me. If any blow were to be struck it must be just alittle bit ahead of any that the gamblers anticipated, and thiswas a blow they would not expect if they already had wind ofWarrington's intention to cancel the lease. 

Garrick called up Dillon and made an appointment to meet him earlyin the evening, without telling him what was afoot. 

"Meet me down at police headquarters, Tom, " was all that Garricksaid to me. "I want to work here at the office for a little while, first, testing a new contrivance, or, rather, an old one that Ithink may be put to a new use. "

Meanwhile I decided to employ my time by visiting some newspaperfriends that I had known a long time on the Star, one of the mostenterprising papers in the city. Fortunately I found my friend, Davenport, the managing editor, at his desk and ready to talk inthe infrequent lulls that came in his work. 

"What's on your mind, Marshall?" he asked as I sat down and beganto wonder how he ever conducted his work in the choatic clutter ofstuff on the top of his desk. 

"I can't tell you--yet, Davenport, " I explained carefully, "butit's a big story and when it breaks I'll promise that the Star hasthe first chance at it. I'm on the inside--working with that youngdetective, Garrick, you know. "

"Garrick--Garrick, " he repeated. "Oh, yes, that fellow who cameback from abroad with a lot of queer ideas. I remember. We had aninterview with him when he left the steamer. Good stuff, too, --butwhat do you think of him? Is he--on the level?"

"On the level and making good, " I answered confidently. "I'm notat liberty to tell much about it now, but--well, the reason I camein was to find out what you could tell me about a Miss Winslow, --Violet Winslow and her aunt, Mrs. Beekman de Lancey. "

"The Miss Winslow who is reported engaged to young Warrington?" herepeated. "The gossip is that he has cut out Angus Forbes, entirely. "

I had hesitated to mention all the names at once, but I need nothave done so, for on such things, particularly the fortunes infinance and love of such a person as Warrington, the eyes of thepress were all-seeing. 

"Yes, " I answered carefully, "that's the Miss Winslow. What do youknow of her?"

"Well, " he replied, fumbling among the papers on his desk, "all Iknow is that in the social set to which she belongs our societyreporters say that of all the young fellows who have set out tocapture her--and she's a deuced pretty girl, even in the pictureswe have published--it seems to have come down to MortimerWarrington and Angus Forbes. Of course, as far as we newspapermenare concerned, the big story for us would be in the engagement ofyoung Warrington. The eyes of people are fixed on him just now--the richest young man in the country, and all that sort of thing, you know. Seems to be a pretty decent sort of fellow, too, Ibelieve--democratic and keen on other things besides tango andtennis. Oh, there's the thing I was hunting for. Mrs. De Lancey'sa nut on gambling, I believe. Read that. It's a letter that cameto us from her this morning. "

It was written in the stilted handwriting of a generation ago andread:

"To the Editor of the Star, Dear Sir:--I believe that your paperprides itself on standing for reform and against the grafters. Ifthat is so, why do you not join in the crusade to suppressgambling in New York? For the love that you must still beartowards your own mother, listen to the stories of other motherstorn by anxiety for their sons and daughters, and if there is anyjustice or righteousness in this great city close up thosegambling hells that are sending to ruin scores of our finest youngmen--and women. You have taken up other fights against gamblingand vice. Take up this one that appeals to women of wealth andsocial position. I know them and they are as human as mothers inany other station in life. Oh, if there is any way, close up thesegilded society resorts that are dissipating the fortunes of manyparents, ruining young men and women, and, in one case I know of, slowly bringing to the grave a grey-haired widow as worthy ofprotection as any mother of the poor whose plea has closed up alittle poolroom or policy shop. One place I have in mind is at----West Forty-eighth Street. Investigate it, but keep thisconfidential. 

"Sincerely, "(MRS. ) EMMA DE LANCEY. "

"Do you know anything about it?" I asked casually handing theletter back. 

"Only by hearsay. I understand it is the crookedest gambling jointin the city, at least judging by the stories they tell of thelosses there. And so beastly aristocratic, too. They tell me youngForbes has lost a small fortune there--but I don't know how trueit is. We get hundreds of these daintily perfumed and monogramedlittle missives in the course of a year. "

"You mean Angus Forbes?" I asked. 

"Yes, " replied the managing editor, "the fellow that they say hasbeen trying to capture your friend Miss Winslow. "

I did not reply for the moment. Forbes, I had already learned, wasdeeply in debt. Was it part of his plan to get control of thelittle fortune of Violet to recoup his losses?

"Do you know Mrs. De Lancey?" pursued the editor. 

"No--not yet, " I answered. "I was just wondering what sort ofperson she is. "

"Oh I suppose she's all right, " he answered, "but they say she'spretty straight-laced--that cards and all sorts of dissipation arean obsession with her. "

"Well, " I argued, "there might be worse things than that. "

"That's right, " he agreed. "But I don't believe that such apuritanical atmosphere is--er--just the place to bring up a youngwoman like Violet Winslow. "

I said nothing. It did not seem to me that Mrs. De Lancey hadsucceeded in killing the natural human impulses in Violet, thoughperhaps the girl was not as well versed in some of the ways of theworld as others of her set. Still, I felt that her own naturalcommon sense would protect her, even though she had been kept froma knowledge of much that in others of her set was part of their"education. "

My friend's telephone had been tinkling constantly during theconversation and I saw that as the time advanced he was gettingmore and more busy. I thanked Davenport and excused myself. 

At least I had learned something about those who were concerned inthe case. As I rode uptown I could not help thinking of VioletWinslow and her apparently intuitive fear concerning Warrington. Iwondered how much she really knew about Angus Forbes. Undoubtedlyhe had not hesitated to express his own feelings toward her. Hadshe penetrated beneath the honeyed words he must have spoken toher? Was it that she feared that all things are fair in war andlove and that the favour she must have bestowed on Warringtonmight have roused the jealousy of some of his rivals for heraffections?

I found no answer to my speculations, but a glance at my watchtold me that it was nearing the time of my appointment with Guy. 

A few minutes later I jumped off the car at Headquarters and metGarrick, waiting for me in the lower hall. As we ascended thebroad staircase to the second floor, where Dillon's office was, Itold him briefly of what I had discovered. 

"The old lady will have her wish, " he replied grimly as I relatedthe incident of the letter to the editor. "I wonder just how muchshe really does know of that place. I hope it isn't enough to sether against Warrington. You know people like that are often likelyto conceive violent prejudices--and then refuse to believesomething that's all but proved about someone else. "

There was no time to pursue the subject further for we had reachedDillon's office and were admitted immediately. 

"What's the news?" asked Dillon greeting us cordially. 

"Plenty of it, " returned Garrick, hastily sketching over what hadtranspired since we had seen him last. 

Garrick had scarcely begun to outline what he intended to do whenI could see from the commissioner's face that he was verysceptical of success. 

"Herman tells me, " he objected, "that the place is mighty wellbarricaded. We haven't tried raiding it yet, because you know thenew plan is not only to raid those places, but first to watchthem, trace out some of the regular habitues, and then to be ableto rope them in in case we need them as evidence. Herman has beengetting that all in shape so that when the case comes to trial, there'll be no slip-up. "

"If that's all you want, I can put my finger on some of thewildest scions of wealth that you will ever need for witnesses, "Garrick replied confidently. 

"Well, " pursued Dillon diffidently, "how are you going to pull itoff, down through the sky-light, or up through the cellar?"

"Oh, Dillon, " returned Garrick reproachfully, "that's unworthy ofyou. "

"But, Garrick, " persisted Dillon, "don't you know that it is averitable National City Bank for protection. It isn't one of thosecommon gambling joints. It's proof against all the old methods. Axes and sledgehammers would make no impression there. Why, thatplace has been proved bomb-proof--bomb-proof, sir. You rememberrecently the so-call 'gamblers' war' in which some rivals explodeda bomb on the steps because the proprietor of this place resentedtheir intrusion uptown from the lower East Side, with their gunmenand lobbygows? It did more damage to the house next door than tothe gambling joint. "

Dillon paused a moment to enumerate the difficulties. "You can getpast the outside door all right. But inside is the famous ice-boxdoor. It's no use to try it at all unless you can pass that doorwith reasonable quickness. All the evidence you will get will beof an innocent social club room downstairs. And you can't get onthe other side of that door by strategy, either. It is strategy-proof. The system of lookouts is perfect. Herman---"

"Can't help it, " interrupted Garrick, "we've got to go overHerman's head this time. I'll guarantee you all the evidenceyou'll ever need. "

Dillon and Garrick faced each other for a moment. 

It was a supreme test of Dillon's sincerity. 

Finally he spoke slowly. "All right, " he said, as if at last thedie were cast and Garrick had carried his point, "but how are yougoing to do it? Won't you need some men with axes and crowbars?"

"No, indeed, almost shouted Garrick as Dillon made a motion as ifto find out who were available. "I've been preparing a littlesurprise in my office this afternoon for just such a case. It's arather cumbersome arrangement and I've brought it along stowedaway in a taxicab outside. I don't want anyone else to know aboutthe raid until the last moment. Just before we begin the roughstuff, you can call up and have the reserves started around. Thatis all I shall want. "

"Very well, " agreed Dillon, after a moment. 

He did not seem to relish the scheme, but he had promised at theoutset to play fair and he had no disposition to go back on hisword now in favor even of his judgment. 

"First of all, " he planned, "we'll have to drop in on a judge andget a warrant to protect us. "

Garrick hastily gave me instructions what to do and I starteduptown immediately, while they went to secure the secret warrant. 

I had been stationed on the corner which was not far from theForty-eighth Street gambling joint that we were to raid. I had akeen sense of wickedness as I stood there with other loitererswatching the passing throng under the yellow flare of the flamingarc light. 

It was not difficult now to loiter about unnoticed because thestreets were full of people, all bent on their own pleasure andnot likely to notice one person more or less who stopped to watchthe passing throng. 

From time to time I cast a quick glance at the house down thestreet, in order to note who was going in. 

It must have been over an hour that I waited. It was after ten, and it became more difficult to watch who was going into thegambling joint. In fact, several times the street was so blockedthat I could not see very well. But I did happen to catch aglimpse of one familiar figure across the street from me. 

It was Angus Forbes. Where he kept himself in the daytime I didnot know, but he seemed to emerge at night, like a rat, seekingwhat to him was now food and drink. I watched him narrowly as heturned the corner, but there was no use in being too inquisitive. He was bound as certainly for the gambling joint as a moth wouldhave headed toward one of the arc lights. Evidently Forbes wasmaking a vocation of gambling. 

Just then a taxicab pulled up hurriedly at the curb near where Iwas standing and a hand beckoned me, on the side away from thegambling house. 

I sauntered over and looked in through the open window. It wasGarrick with Dillon sunk back into the dark corner of the cab, soas not to be seen. 

"Jump in!" whispered Garrick, opening the door. "We have thewarrant all right. Has anything happened? No suspicion yet?"

I did so and reassured Garrick while the cab started on a blindcruise around the block. 

On the floor was a curiously heavy instrument, on which I hadstubbed my toe as I entered. I surmised that it must have been thething which Garrick had brought from his office, but in thedarkness I could not see what it was, nor was there a chance toask a question. 

"Stop here, " ordered Garrick, as we passed a drug store with atelephone booth. 

Dillon jumped out and disappeared into the booth. 

"He is calling the reserves from the nearest station, " frettedGarrick. "Of course, we have to do that to cover the place, butwe'll have to work quickly now, for I don't know how fast a tipmay travel in this subterranean region. Here, I'll pay the taxicharges now and save some time. "

A moment later Dillon rejoined us, his face perspiring from thecloseness of the air in the booth. 

"Now to that place on Forty-eighth Street, and we're square, "ordered Garrick to the driver, mentioning the address. "Quick!"

There had been, we could see, no chance for a tip to be given thata raid was about to be pulled off. We could see that, as Garrickand I jumped out of the cab and mounted the steps. 

The door was closed to us, however. Only someone like Warringtonwho was known there could have got us in peacefully, until we hadbecome known in the place. Yet though there had been no tip, thelookout on the other side of the door, with his keen nose, hadseemed to scent trouble. 

He had retreated and, we knew, had shut the inside, heavy door--perhaps even had had time already to give the alarm inside. 

The sharp rap of a small axe which Garrick had brought sounded onthe flimsy outside door, in quick staccato. There was a noise andscurry of feet inside and we could hear the locks and bolts beingdrawn. 

Banging, ripping, tearing, the thin outer door was easily forced. Disregarding the melee I leaped through the wreckage with Garrick. The "ice-box" door barred all further progress. How was Garrick tosurmount this last and most formidable barrier?

"A raid! A raid!" cried a passer-by. 

Another instant, and the cry, taken up by others, brought a crowdswarming around from Broadway, as if it were noon instead ofmidnight. 

CHAPTER X

THE GAMBLING DEBT

There was no time to be lost now. Down the steps again dashedGarrick, after our expected failure both to get in peaceably andto pass the ice-box door by force. This time Dillon emerged fromthe cab with him. Together they were carrying the heavy apparatusup the steps. 

They set it down close to the door and I scrutinized it carefully. It looked, at first sight, like a short stubby piece of iron, about eighteen inches high. It must have weighed fifty or sixtypounds. Along one side was a handle, and on the opposite side anadjustable hook with a sharp, wide prong. 

Garrick bent down and managed to wedge the hook into the littlespace between the sill and the bottom of the ice-box door. Then hebegan pumping on the handle, up and down, up and down, as hard ashe could. 

Meanwhile the crowd that had begun to collect was getting larger. Dillon went through the form of calling on them for aid, but thecall was met with laughter. A Tenderloin crowd has no use forraids, except as a spectacle. Between us we held them back, whileGarrick worked. The crowd jeered. 

It was the work of only a few seconds, however, before Garrickchanged the jeers to a hearty round of exclamations of surprise. The door seemed to be lifted up, literally, until some of itsbolts and hinges actually bulged and cracked. It was beingcrushed, like the flimsy outside door, before the unwonted attack. 

Upwards, by fractions of an inch, by millimeters, the door wasbeing forced. There was such straining and stress of materialsthat I really began to wonder whether the building itself wouldstand it. 

"Scientific jimmying, " gasped Garrick, as the door bulged more andmore and seemed almost to threaten to topple in at any moment. 

I looked at the stubby little cylinder with its short stump of alever. Garrick had taken it out now and had wedged it horizontallybetween the ice-box door and the outer stonework of the buildingitself. Then he jammed some pieces of wood in to wedge it tighterand again began to pump at the handle vigorously. 

"What is it?" I asked, almost in awe at the titanic power of theapparently insignificant little thing. 

"My scientific sledgehammer, " he panted, still working the levermore vigorously than ever backward and forward. "In other words, ahydraulic ram. There is no swinging of axes or wielding of crow-bars necessary any more, Dillon, in breaking down a door likethis. Such things are obsolete. This little jimmy, if you want tocall it that, has a power of ten tons. I think that's aboutenough. "

It seemed as if the door were buckling and being literallywrenched off its hinges by the irresistible ten-ton punch of thehydraulic ram. 

Garrick sprang back, grasping me by the arm and pulling me too. But there was no need of caution. What was left of the door swungback on its loosened hinges, seemed to tremble a moment, and then, with a dull thud crashed down on the beautiful green marble of thereception hall, reverberating. 

We peered beyond. Inside all was darkness. At the very first signof trouble the lights had been switched out downstairs. It wasdeserted. There was no answer to our shouts. It was as silent as atomb. 

The clang of bells woke the rapid echoes. The crowd parted. It wasthe patrol wagons, come just in time, full of reserves, atDillon's order. They swarmed up the steps, for there was nothingto do now, in the limelight of the public eye, except their duty. Besides Dillon was there, too. 

"Here, " he ordered huskily, "four of you fellows jump into each ofthe next door houses and run up to the roof. Four more men gothrough to the rear of this house. The rest stay here and awaitorders, " he directed, detailing them off quickly, as heendeavoured to grasp the strange situation. 

On both sides of the street heads were out of windows. On otherhouses the steps were full of spectators. Thousands of people musthave swarmed in the street. It was pandemonium. 

Yet inside the house into which we had just broken it was alldarkness and silence. 

The door had yielded to the scientific sledge-hammering where itwould have shattered, otherwise, all the axes in the department. What was next?

Garrick jumped briskly over the wreckage into the building. Instead of the lights and gayety which we had seen on the previousnight, all was black mystery. The robbers' cave yawned before us. I think we were all prepared for some sort of gunplay, for we knewthe crooks to be desperate characters. As we followed Garrickclosely we were surprised to encounter not even physical force. 

Someone struck a light. Garrick, groping about in the shadows, found the switch, and one after another the lights in the variousrooms winked up. 

I have seldom seen such confusion as greeted us as, with Dillonwaiving his "John Doe" warrant over his head, we hurried upstairsto the main hall on the second floor, where the greater part ofthe gambling was done. Furniture was overturned and broken, andthere had been no time to remove the heavier gambling apparatus. Playing cards, however, chips, racing sheets from the afternoon, dice, everything portable and tangible and small enough to becarried had disappeared. 

But the greatest surprise of all was in store. Though we had seenno one leave by any of the doors, nor by the doors of any of thehouses on the block, nor by the roofs, or even by the back yard, according to the report of the police who had been sent in thatdirection, there was not a living soul in the house from roof tocellar. Search as we did, we could find not one of the scores ofpeople whom I had seen enter in the course of the evening while Iwas watching on the corner. 

Dillon, ever mindful of some of the absurd rules of evidence insuch cases laid down by the courts, had had an officialphotographer summoned and he was proceeding from room to room, snapping pictures of apparatus that was left in place andpreserving a film record of the condition of things generally. 

Garrick was standing ruefully beside the roulette wheel at whichso many fortunes had been dissipated. 

"Get me an axe, " he asked of one of Dillon's men who was passing. 

With a well-directed blow he smashed the wheel. 

"Look, " he exclaimed, "this is what they were up against. "

His forefinger indicated an ingenious but now twisted and tangledseries of minute wires and electro-magnets in the delicatemechanism now broken open before us. Delicate brushes led thecurrent into the wheel. 

With another blow of the axe, Garrick disclosed wires running downthrough the leg of the table to the floor and under the carpet tobuttons operated by the man who ran the game. 

"What does it mean?" I asked blankly. 

"It means, " he returned, "that they had little enough chance towin at a straight game of roulette. But this wheel wasn't evenstraight with all the odds in favor of the bank, as they arenaturally. This game was electrically controlled. Others aremechanically controlled by what are called the 'mule's ear, ' andother devices. You CAN'T win. These wires and magnets can be madeto attract the little ball into any pocket the operator desires. Each one of the pockets contains an electro-magnet. One set ofelectro-magnets in the red pockets is connected with one buttonunder the carpet and a set of batteries. The other series oflittle magnets in the black pockets is connected with anotherbutton and the batteries. "

He had picked up the little ball. "This ball, " he said as heexamined it, "is not really of ivory, but of a composition thatlooks like ivory, coating a hollow, soft-iron ball inside. Softiron is attracted by an electro-magnet. Whichever set of magnetsis energized attracts the ball and by this simple method it is inthe power of the operator to let the ball go to red or black as hemay wish. Other similar arrangements control the odd or even, andother combinations, also from push buttons. There isn't an honestgambling machine in the whole place. The whole thing is crookedfrom start to finish, --the men, the machines, ----"

"Then a fellow never had a chance?" repeated Dillon. 

"Not a chance, " emphasized Garrick. 

We gathered about and gazed at magnets and wires, the buttons andswitches. He did not need to say anything more to expose thecharacter of the place. 

Amazing as we found everything about us in the palace of crooks, nothing made so deep an impression on me as the fact that it wasdeserted. It seemed as if the gamblers had disappeared as thoughin a fairy tale. Search room after room as Dillon's men did theywere unable to find a living thing. 

One of the men had discovered, back of the gambling rooms on thesecond floor, a little office evidently used by those who ran thejoint. It was scantily furnished, as though its purpose might havebeen merely a place where they could divide up the profits inprivate. A desk, a cabinet and a safe, besides a couple of chairs, were all that the room contained. 

Someone, however, had done some quick work in the little officeduring those minutes while Garrick was opening the great ice-boxdoor with his hydraulic ram, for on every side were scatteredpapers, the desk had been rifled, and even from the safepractically everything of any value had been removed. It was allpart of the general scheme of things in the gambling joint. Practically nothing that was evidential that could be readilyremoved had been left. Whoever had planned the place must havebeen a genius as far as laying out precautions against a raid wereconcerned. 

Garrick, Dillon and I ran hastily through some scatteredcorrespondence and other documents that spilled out from someletter files on the floor, but as far as I could make out therewas nothing of any great importance that had been overlooked. 

Dillon ordered the whole mass to be bundled up and taken off whenthe other paraphernalia was removed so that it could be gonethrough at our leisure, and the search continued. 

From the "office" a staircase led down by a back way and wefollowed it, looking carefully to see where it led. 

A low exclamation from Garrick arrested our attention. In a curvebetween landings he had kicked something and had bent down to pickit up. An electric pocket flashlight which one of the men hadpicked up disclosed under its rays a package of papers evidentlydropped by someone who was carrying away in haste an armful ofstuff. 

"Markers with the house, " exclaimed Garrick as he ran over thecontents of the package hurriedly. "I. O. U. 's for various amountsand all initialed--for several hundred thousands. Hello, here's abunch with an 'F. ' That must mean Forbes--thousands of dollarsworth. "

The markers were fastened together with a slip in order toseparate them from the others, evidently. 

Garrick was hastily totalling them up and they seemed to amount toa tidy sum. 

"How can he ever pay?" I asked, amazed as the sum crept on upwardin the direction of six figures. 

"Don't you see that they're cancelled?" interjected Garrick, stilladding. 

I had not examined them closely, but as I now bent over to do so Isaw that each bore the words, "Paid by W. "

Warrington himself had settled the gambling debts of his friend!

In still greater amazement I continued to look and found that theyall bore dates from several weeks before, down to within a fewdays. The tale they told was eloquent. Forbes, his own fortunegone, had gambled until rescued by his friend. Even that had notbeen sufficient to curb his mania. He had kept right on, hopinginsanely to recoup. And the gamblers had been willing to take achance with him, knowing that they already had so much of hismoney that they could not possibly lose. 

A horrid thought flashed over me. What if he had really planned topay his losses by marrying a girl with a fortune? Forbes was thesort who would have gambled on even that slender prospect. 

As we stood on the landing while Garrick went over the markers, Ifound myself wondering, even, where Forbes had been that nightafter he hurried away from us at the ladies' poolroom andWarrington had taken the journey that had ended so disastrouslyfor him. The more I learned of what had been taking place, themore I saw that Warrington stood out as a gentleman. UndoubtedlyViolet Winslow had heard, had been informed by some kind unknownof the slight lapses of Warrington. I felt sure that the grossdelinquencies of Forbes were concealed from her and from her aunt, at least as far as Warrington had it in his power to shield theman who was his friend--and rival. 

The voice of Dillon recalled me from a train of pure speculationto the more practical work in hand before us. 

"Well, at any rate, we've got evidence enough to protect ourselvesand close the place, even if we didn't make any captures, "congratulated Dillon, as he rejoined us, after a momentaryexcursion from which he returned still blinking from the effectsof the flashlight powders which his photographer had been usingfreely. "After we get all the pictures of the place, I'll have thestuff here removed to headquarters--and it won't be handed back onany order of the courts, either, if I can help it!"

Garrick had shoved the markers into his pocket and now was leadingthe way downstairs. 

"Still, Dillon, " he remarked, as we followed, "that doesn't shedany light on the one remaining problem. How did they all manage toget out so quickly?"

We had reached the basement which contained the kitchens for thebuffet and quarters for the servants. A hasty excursion into thelittered back yard under the guidance of Dillon's men who had beensent around that way netted us nothing in the way of information. They had not made their escape over the back fences. Such a numberof people would certainly have left some trail, and there wasnone. 

We looked at Garrick, perplexed, and he remarked, with suddenenergy, "Let's take a look at the cellar. "

As we groped down the final stairway into the cellar, it was onlytoo evident that at last he had guessed right. Down in thesubterranean depths we quickly discovered, at the rear, a sheet-iron door. Battering it down was the work of but a moment for thelittle ram. Beyond it, where we expected to see a yawning tunnel, we found nothing but a pile of bricks and earth and timbers thathad been used for shoring. 

There had been a tunnel, but the last man who had gone through hadevidently exploded a small dynamite cartridge, and the walls hadbeen caved in. It was impossible to follow it until its coursecould be carefully excavated with proper tools in the daylight. 

We had captured the stronghold of gambling in New York, but thegamblers had managed to slip out of our grasp, at least for thepresent. 

CHAPTER XI

THE GANGSTER'S GARAGE

"I have it, " exclaimed Garrick, as we were retracing our stepsupstairs from the dank darkness of the cellar. "I would be willingto wager that that tunnel runs back from this house to that pool-room for women which we visited on Forty-seventh Street, Marshall. That must be the secret exit. Don't you see, it could be used ineither direction. "

We climbed the stairs and stood again in the wreck of things, taking a hasty inventory of what was left, in hope of uncoveringsome new clew, even by chance. 

Garrick shook his head mournfully. 

"They had just time enough, " he remarked, "to destroy abouteverything they wanted to and carry off the rest. "

"All except the markers, " I corrected. 

"That was just a lucky chance, " he returned. "Still, it throws aninteresting sidelight on the case. "

"It doesn't add much in my estimation to the character of Forbes, "I ventured, voicing my own suspicions. 

The telephone bell rang before Garrick had a chance to reply. Evidently in their haste they had not had time to cut the wires orto spread the news, yet, of the raid. Someone who knew nothing ofwhat had happened was calling up. 

Garrick quickly unhooked the receiver, with a hasty motion to usto remain silent. 

"Hello, " we heard him answer. "Yes, this is it. Who is this?"

He had disguised his voice. We waited anxiously and watched hisface to gather what response he received. 

"The deuce!" he exclaimed, with his hand over the transmitter sothat his voice would not be heard at the other end. 

"What's the matter?" I asked eagerly. 

"Whoever he was, " replied Garrick, "he was too keen for me. Hecaught on. There must have been some password or form that theyused which we don't know, for he hung up the receiver almost assoon as he heard me. "

Garrick waited a minute or two. Then he whistled into, thetransmitter. It was done apparently to see whether there wasanyone listening. But there was no answer. The man was gone. 

"Operator, operator!" Guy was calling, insistently moving the hookup and down rapidly. "Yes--I want Central. Central, can you tellme what number that was which just called up?"

We all waited anxiously to learn whether the girl could find outor not. 

"Bleecker seven--one--eight--o? Thank you very much. Give meinformation, please. "

Again we waited as Garrick tried to trace the call out. 

"Hello! What is the street address of Bleecker seven--one--eight--o? Three hundred West Sixth. Thank you. A garage? Good-bye. "

"A garage?" echoed Dillon, his ears almost going up as he realizedthe importance of the news. 

"Yes, " cried Garrick, himself excited. "Tom, call a cab. Let ushustle down there as quickly as we can. "

"One of those garages on the lower West Side, " I heard Dillon sayas I left. "Perhaps they did work for the gambling joint--sentdrunks home, got rid of tough customers and all that. You knowalready that there are some pretty tough places down there. Thisis bully. I shouldn't be surprised if it gave us a line on thestealing of Warrington's car at last. "

I found a cab and Dillon and Garrick joined me in it. 

"I tried to get McBirney, " said Garrick as we prepared to start onour new quest, "but he was out, and the night operator at hisplace didn't seem to know where he was. But if they can locatehim, I imagine he'll be around at least shortly after we getthere. I left the address. "

Dillon had issued his final orders to his raiders about guardingthe raided gambling joint and stationing a man at the door. Amoment later we were off, threading our way through the crowdwhich in spite of the late hour still lingered to gape at theplace. 

On the way down we speculated much on the possibility that wemight be going on a wild goose chase. But the very circumstancesof the call and the promptness with which the man who had calledhad seemed to sense when something was wrong and to ring offseemed to point to the fact that we had uncovered a good lead ofsome kind. 

After a quick run downtown through the deserted avenues, weentered a series of narrow and sinuous streets that wound throughsome pretty tough looking neighborhoods. On the street cornerswere saloons that deserved no better name than common groggeries. They were all vicious looking joints and uniformly seemed toviolate the law about closing. The fact was that they impressedone as though it would be as much as one's life was worth even toenter them with respectable looking clothes on. 

The further we proceeded into the tortuous twists of streets thatstamp the old Greenwich village with a character all its own, theworse it seemed to get. Decrepit relics of every style ofarchitecture from almost the earliest times in the city stood outin the darkness, like so many ghosts. 

"Anyone who would run a garage down here, " remarked Garrick, "deserves to be arrested on sight. "

"Except possibly for commercial vehicles, " I ventured, looking atthe warehouses here and there. 

"There are no commercial vehicles out at this hour, " added Garrickdryly. 

At last our cab turned down a street that was particularly dark. 

"This is it, " announced Garrick, tapping on the glass for thedriver to stop at the corner. "We had better get out and walk therest of the way. "

The garage which we sought proved to be nothing but an old brickstable. It was of such a character that even charity could nothave said that it had seen much better days for generations. Itwas dark, evil looking. Except for a slinking figure here andthere in the distance the street about us was deserted. Even ourfootfalls echoed and Garrick warned us to tread softly. I longedfor the big stick, that went with the other half of the phrase. 

He paused a moment to observe the place. It was near the cornerand a dim-lighted Raines law saloon on the next cross street ranback almost squarely to the stable walls, leaving a narrow yard. Apparently the garage itself had been closed for the night, if, indeed, it was ever regularly open. Anyone who wanted to use itmust have carried a key, I surmised. 

We crossed over stealthily. Garrick put his ear to an ordinarysized door which had been cut out of the big double swinging doorsof the stable, and listened. 

Not a sound. 

Dillon, with the instinct of the roundsman in him still, tried thehandle of the door gently. To our surprise it moved. I could notbelieve that anyone could have gone away and left it open, trusting that the place would not be looted by the neighboursbefore he returned. I felt instinctively that there must besomebody there, in spite of the darkness. 

The commissioner pushed in, however, followed closely by both ofus, prepared for an on-rush or a hand-to-hand struggle withanything, man or beast. 

A quick succession of shots greeted us. I do not recall feelingthe slightest sensation of pain, but with a sickening dizziness inthe head I can just vaguely remember that I sank down on the oiland grease of the floor. I did not fall. It seemed as if I hadtime to catch myself and save, perhaps, a fractured skull. Butthen it was all blank. 

It seemed an age, though it could not have been more than tenminutes later when I came to. I felt an awful, choking sensationin my throat which was dry and parched. My lungs seemed to rasp myvery ribs, as I struggled for breath. Garrick was bendinganxiously over me, himself pale and gasping yet. The air wasreeking with a smell that I did not understand. 

"Thank heaven, you're all right, " he exclaimed, with much relief, as he helped me struggle up on my feet. My head was still in awhirl as he assisted me over to a cushioned seat in one of theautomobiles standing there. "Now I'll go back to Dillon, " headded, out of breath from the superhuman efforts he was puttingforth both for us and to keep himself together. "Wh--what's thematter? What happened?" I gasped, gripping the back of the cushionto steady myself. "Am I wounded? Where was I hit? I--I don't feelanything--but, oh, my head and throat!"

I glanced over at Dillon. He was pale and white as a ghost, but Icould see that he was breathing, though with difficulty. In theglare of the headlight of a car which Garrick had turned on him, he looked ghastly. I looked again to discover traces of blood. Butthere was none anywhere. 

"We were all put out of business, " muttered Garrick, as he workedover Dillon. Dillon opened his eyes blankly at last, thenstruggled up to his feet. "You got it worst, commissioner, "remarked Garrick to him. "You were closest. "

"Got what?" he sputtered, "Was closest to what?"

We were all still choking over the peculiar odor in the fetid airabout us. 

"The bulletless gun, " replied Garrick. 

Dillon looked at him a moment incredulously, in spite even of histrying physical condition. 

"It is a German invention, " Garrick went on to explain, clearinghis throat, "and shoots, instead of bullets, a stupefying gaswhich temporarily blinds and chokes its victims. The fellow whowas in here didn't shoot bullets at us. He evidently didn't careabout adding any more crimes to his list just now. Perhaps hethought that if he killed any of us there would be too much of arow. I'm glad it was as it was, anyway. He got us all, this way, before we knew it. Perhaps that was the reason he used the gun, for if he had shot one of us with a pistol I had my own automaticready myself to blaze away. This way he got me, too. 

"A stupefying gun!" repeated Dillon. "I should say so. I don'tknow what happened--yet, " he added, blinking. 

"I came to first, " went on Garrick, now busily looking about, aswe were all recovered. "I found that none of us was wounded, andso I guessed what had happened. However, while we were unconsciousthe villain, whoever he was, succeeded in running his car out ofthe garage and getting away. He locked the door after him, but Ihave managed to work it open again. "

Garrick was now examining the floor of the garage, turning theheadlight of the machine as much as he could on successive partsof the floor. 

"By George, Tom, " he exclaimed to me suddenly, "see those marks inthe grease? Do you recognize them by this time? It is the sametire-mark again--Warrington's car--without a doubt!"

Dillon had taken the photographs which Garrick had made severaldays before from the prints left by the side of the road in NewJersey, and was comparing them himself with the marks on the floorof the garage, while Garrick explained them to him hurriedly, ashe had already done to me. 

"We are getting closer to him, every time, '" remarked Garrick. "Even if he did get away, we are on the trail and know that it isthe right one. He could not have been at the gambling joint, or hewould never have called up. Yet he must have known all about it. This has turned out better than I expected. I suppose you don'tfeel so, but you must think so. "

It was difficult not to catch the contagion of Garrick'senthusiasm. Dillon grunted assent. 

"This garage, " he put in, looking it over critically, "must act asa fence for stolen cars and parts of cars. See, there over in thecorner is the stuff for painting new license numbers. Here'senough material to rebuild a half dozen cars. Yes, this is one ofthe places that ought to interest you and McBirney, Garrick. I'llbet the fellow who owns this place is one of those who'd engage tosell you a second-hand car of any make you wanted to name. Thenhe'd go out on the street and hunt around until he got one. Ofcourse, we'll find out his name, but I'll wager that when we getthe nominal owner we won't be able to extract a thing from him inthe way of actual facts. "

Garrick had continued his examination of the floor. In a corner, near the back, he had picked up an empty shell of a cartridge. Heheld it down in the light of the car, and examined it long andcarefully. As he turned it over and over he seemed to be carefullyconsidering it. Finally, he dropped it carefully into his insidevest pocket, as though it were a rare treasure. 

"As I said at the start, " quoted Garrick, turning to me, "we mightget a conviction merely on these cartridges. Anyhow, our man hasescaped from here. You can be sure that he won't come back--perhaps never--certainly not at least for a long time, until hefigures that this thing has completely blown over. "

"I'm going to keep my eye on the place, just the same, " stoutlyinsisted Dillon. 

"Of course, by all means, " reiterated Garrick. "The fact is, Iexpect our next important clew will come from this place. The onlything I want you to be careful of, Dillon, is not to be hasty andmake an arrest. "

"Not make an arrest?" queried Dillon, who still felt the fumes inhis throat, and evidently longed to make someone pay the price--atleast by giving him the satisfaction of conducting a "thirddegree" down at headquarters. 

"No. You won't get the right man, and you may lose one who pointsstraight at him. Take my advice. Watch the place. There's more tobe gained by going at it cautiously. These people understand theold hammer-and-tongs game. "

Just then the smaller outside door grated on its rusty hinges. Wesprang to our feet, startled. Dillon leaped forward. Stupefyingguns had no taming effect on his nationality. 

"Well, commish, is that the way you greet an old friend?" laughedMcBirney, as a threatened strangle-hold was narrowly averted andturned into a handshake. "How are you fellows? I got your message, Garrick, and thought I'd drop around. What's the matter? You alllook as if you'd been drawn through a wringer. "

Briefly, to the accompaniment of many expressions of astonishmentfrom the insurance detective, Garrick related what had happened, from the raid to the gas-gun. 

"Well, " gasped McBirney, sniffing the remains of the gas in theair, "this is some place, isn't it? Neat, cozy, well-located--fora murder--hello!--that's that ninety horsepower Despard that wasstolen from Murdock the other day, or I'll eat my hat. "

He had raised the hood and was straining his eyes to catch aglimpse of the maker's number on the engine, which had been allbut obliterated by a few judicious blows of a hammer. 

Garrick was busy telling McBirney also about the marks of the tireon the floor, as the detective looked over one car after another, as if he had unearthed a veritable treasure-trove. 

"No, your man could not have been at either of the gamblingjoints, " agreed McBirney, as Garrick finished, "or he wouldn'thave called up. But he must have known them intimately. Perhaps hewas in the pay of someone there. "

McBirney was much interested in what had been discovered, and wastrying to piece it together with what we had known before. "Iwonder whether he's the short fellow who drove the car when it wasseen up there, or the big fellow who was in the car whenWarrington was shot, up-state?"

The question was, as yet, unanswerable. None of us had been ableto catch a glimpse of his figure, muffled, in the darkness when heshot us. 

All we knew was that even this man was unidentified and at large. The murderer, desperate as he was, was still free and unknown, too. Were they one and the same? What might not either one donext?

We sat down in one of the stolen cars and held a midnight councilof war. There were four of us, and that meant four differentplans. Dillon was for immediate and wholesale arrests. McBirneywas certain of one thing. He would claim the cars he couldidentify. The garage people could not help knowing now that we hadbeen there, and we conceded the point to him with little argument, though it took great tact on Garrick's part to swing over Dillon. 

"I'm for arresting the garage-keeper, whoever he proves to be, "persisted Dillon, however. 

"It won't do any good, " objected Garrick. 

"Don't you see that it will be better to accept his story, orrather seem to, and then watch him?"

"Watch him?" I asked, eager to propose my own plan of waitingthere and seizing each person who presented himself. "How can youwatch one of these fellows? They are as slippery as eels, --and assilent as a muffler, " I added, taking good-humouredly the generallaugh that greeted my mixed metaphor. 

"You've suggested the precise idea, Marshall, by your veryobjection, " broke in Garrick, who up to this time had been silentas to his own plan. 

"I've a brand-new system of espionage. Trust it to me, and you canall have your way. "

CHAPTER XII

THE DETECTAPHONE

I found it difficult to share Garrick's optimism, however. Itseemed to me that again the best laid plans of one that I had cometo consider among the cleverest of men had been defeated, and itis not pleasant to be defeated, even temporarily. But Garrick wascertainly not discouraged. 

As he had said at the start, it was no ordinary criminal with whomwe had to deal. That was clear. There had been gunmen and gangmenin New York for years, we knew, but this fellow seemed to be thelast word, with his liquid bullets, his anesthetic shells and hisstupefying gun. 

We had agreed that the garage keeper would, of course, shed littlelight on the mystery. He was a crook. But he would find nodifficulty, doubtless, in showing that there was nothing on whichto hold him. 

Still, Garrick had evidently figured out a way to go ahead whilewe had all been floundering around, helpless. His silence hadmerely masked his consideration of a plan. 

"You three stay here, " he ordered. "If anyone should come in, holdhim. Don't let anyone get away. But I don't think there will beanyone. I'll be back within an hour or so. "

It was far past midnight already, as we sat uncomfortably in thereeking atmosphere of the garage. The hours seemed to draginterminably. Almost I wished that something would happen to breakthe monotony and the suspense. Our lonely vigil went unrewarded, however. No one came; there was not even a ring at the telephone. 

As nearly as I could figure it out, McBirney was the only one whoseemed to have gained much so far. He had looked over the carsmost carefully. There were half a dozen of them, in all. 

"I don't doubt, " he concluded, "that all of them have been stolen. But there are only two here that I can identify. They certainlyare clever at fixing them up. Look at all the parts they keepready for use. They could build a car, here. "

"Yes, " agreed Dillon, looking at the expensive "junk" that waslying about. "There is quite enough to warrant closing the place, only I suppose Garrick is right. That would defeat our ownpurpose. "

At last Garrick returned from his hurried trip down to the office. I don't know what it was we expected him to bring, but I think wewere more or less disappointed when it proved to be merely asimple oblong oak box with a handle. 

He opened it and we could see that it contained in reality nothingbut a couple of ordinary dry cells, and some other paraphernalia. There were two black discs, attached to a metal headpiece, discsabout two and a half inches in diameter, with a circular hole inthe centre of each, perhaps an inch across, showing inside whatlooked like a piece of iron or steel. 

Garrick carefully tested the batteries with a little ammeter whichhe carried in a case. 

"Sixteen amperes, " he remarked to himself, "I don't attempt to usethe batteries when they fall below five. These are all right. "

From a case he took a little round black disc, about the same sizeas the other two. In its face it had a dozen or so small holesperforated and arranged in the shape of a six-pointed star. 

"I wonder where I can stow this away so that it won't attractattention?" he asked. 

Garrick looked about for the least used part of the garage anddecided that it was the back. Near the barred window lay a pile ofworn tires which looked as if it had been seldom disturbed exceptto be added to. When one got tires as cheaply as the users of thisgarage did, it was folly to bother much about the repair of oldones. 

Back of this pile, then, he threw the little black disccarelessly, only making sure that it was concealed. That was notdifficult, for it was not much larger than a watch in size. 

To it, I noticed, he had attached two plugs that were "fool-proof"--that is, one small and the other large, so that they couldnot be inserted into the wrong holes. A long flexible green silkcovered wire, or rather two wires together, led from the disc. Bycarefully moving the tires so as to preserve the rough appearancethey had of being thrown down hastily into the discard, he wasable to conceal this wire, also, in such a way as to bring itsecretly to the barred window and through it. 

Next he turned his attention to the telephone itself. Anotherinstrument which he had brought with him was inserted in place ofthe ordinary transmitter. It looked like it and had evidently beenprepared with that in view. I assumed that it must act like theordinary transmitter also, although it must have other uses aswell. It was more of a job to trace out the course of thetelephone wires and run in a sort of tap line at a point where itwould not be likely to be noted. This was done by Garrick, stillworking in silence, and the wires from it led behind variousthings until they, too, reached another window and so went to theoutside. 

As Garrick finished his mysterious tinkering and rose from hisdusty job to brush off his clothes, he remarked, "There, now youmay have your heart's desire, Dillon, if all you want to do is towatch these fellows. "

"What is it?" I hastened to ask, looking curiously at the oak boxwhich contained still everything except the tiny black disc andthe wires leading out of the window from it and from the newtelephone transmitter. 

"This little instrument, " he answered slowly, "is much moresensitive, I think, than any mechanical or electrical eavesdropperthat has ever been employed before. It is the detectaphone--a newunseen listener. "

"The detectaphone?" repeated Dillon. "How does it work?"

"Well, for instance, " explained Garrick, "that attachment which Iplaced on the telephone is much more than a sensitive transmittersuch as you are accustomed to use. It is a form of that black discwhich you saw me hide behind the pile of tires. There are, inboth, innumerable of the minutest globules of carbon which arefloating around, as it were, making it alive at all times to everysound vibration and extremely sensitive even to the slightestsound waves. In the case of the detectaphone transmitter, it onlyreplaces the regular telephone transmitter and its presence willnever be suspected. It operates just as well when the receiver ishung up as when it is off the hook, as far as the purpose I havein mind is concerned, as you shall see soon. I have put both formsin so that even if they find the one back of the tires, even themost suspicious person would not think that anything was containedin the telephone itself. We are dealing with clever people and twoanchors to windward are better than one. "

Dillon nodded approval, but by the look on his face it was evidentthat he did not understand the whole thing yet. 

"That other disc, back of the tires, " went on Garrick, "is theordinary detective form. All that we need now is to find a placeto install this receiving box--all this stuff that is left over--the two batteries, the earpieces. You see the whole thing is verycompact. I can get it down to six inches square and four inchesthick, or I can have it arranged with earpieces so that at leastsix people can 'listen in' at once--forms that can be used indetective work to meet all sorts of conditions. Then there isanother form of the thing, in a box about four inches square and, perhaps, nine or ten inches long which I may bring up later foranother purpose when we find out what we are going to do with theends of those wires that are now dangling on the outside of thewindow. We must pick up the connection in some safe andinconspicuous place outside the garage. "

The window through which the wires passed seemed to open, as I hadalready noticed, on a little yard not much larger than a court. Garrick opened the window and stuck his head out as far as theiron bars would permit. He sniffed. The odor was anything butpleasant. It was a combination of "gas" from the garage and stalebeer from the saloon. 

"No doubt about it, that is a saloon, " remarked Garrick, "and theymust pile empty kegs out there in the yard. Let's take a walkaround the corner and see what the front of the place looks like. "

It was a two and a half story building, with a sloping tin roof, of an archaic architecture, in a state of terrible decay anddilapidation, and quite in keeping with the neighbourhood. Nevertheless a bright gilt sign over a side door read, "HotelEntrance. "

"I think we can get in there to-morrow on some pretext, " decidedGarrick after our inspection of the "Old Tavern, " as the crazyletters, all askew, on one of the windows denoted the place. "TheOld Tavern looks as if it might let lodgings to respectablegentlemen--if they were roughly enough dressed. We can getourselves up as a couple of teamsters and when we get in that willgive us a chance to pick up the ends of those wires to-morrow. That will be time enough, I'm sure, and it is the best we can do, anyhow. "

We returned from our walk around the block to the garage whereDillon and McBirney were waiting for us. 

"I leave you free to do what you please, Dillon, " answered Garrickto the commissioner's inquiry, "as long as you don't pinch thisplace which promises to be a veritable gold-mine. McBirney, Iknow, will reduce the number of cars here tomorrow by at leasttwo. But don't, for heaven's sake, let out any suspicion aboutthose things I have just hidden here. And now, as for me, I'mgoing uptown and get a few hours' sleep. "

Dillon and McBirney followed, leaving us, shortly, to get a coupleof men from the nearest police station to see that none of thecars were taken out before morning. 

We rode up to our apartment, where a message was awaiting us, telling that Warrington had passed a very good day and was makingmuch more rapid progress than even Dr. Mead had dared hope. Icould not help wondering how much was due to the mere tonicpresence daily of Violet Winslow. 

I had a sound sleep, although it was a short one. Garrick had meup early, and, by digging back in his closet, unearthed the oldestclothes he had. We improved them by sundry smears of dirt in sucha way that when we did start forth, no one would have accused usof being other than we were prepared to represent ourselves--workmen who had been laid off from a job on account of badbusiness conditions. We decided to say that we were seekinganother position. 

"How do I look?" I asked seriously, for this was serious businessto me. 

"I don't know whether to give you a meal ticket, or to call a copwhen I look at you, Marshall, " laughed Garrick. 

"Well, I feel a good deal safer in this rig than I did last night, in this part of the city, " I replied as we hopped off a surfacecar not far from our destination. "I almost begin to feel my part. Did you see the old gink with the gold watch on the car? If he washere I believe I'd hold him up, just to see what it is like. Isuppose we are going to apply for lodgings at the famous hostelry, the Old Tavern?"

"I had that intention, " replied Garrick who could see no humour inthe situation, now that we were on the scene of action. "The placelooks even more sordid in daylight than at night. Besides, itsmells worse. "

We entered the tavern, and were greeted with a general air ofrough curiosity, which was quickly dispelled by our spending tencents, and getting change for a bill. At least we were good foranything reasonable, and doubts on that score settled by the manbehind the bar, he consented to enter into conversation, whichultimately resulted in our hiring a large back room upstairs inthe secluded caravansary which supplied "Furnished Rooms forGentlemen Only. "

Garrick said that we would bring our things later, and we wentupstairs. We were no sooner settled than he was at work. He hadbrought a rope ladder, and, after fastening it securely to thewindow ledge, he let himself down carefully into the narrow courtbelow. 

That was the only part of the operation that seemed to be attendedwith any risk of discovery and it was accomplished safely. For onething the dirt on the windows both of the garage and the tavernwas so thick that I doubt whether so much caution was reallynecessary. Nevertheless, it was a relief when he secured the endsof the wires from the detectaphone and brought them up, pulling inthe rope ladder after him. 

It was now the work of but a minute to attach one of the wiresthat led from the watchcase disc back of the pile of tires to theoak box with its two storage batteries. Garrick held the ear-pieces, one to each ear, then shoved them over his head, in place. 

"It works--it works, " he cried, with as much delight as if he hadnot been positive all along that it would. 

"Here, try it yourself, " he added, taking the headgear off andhanding the receivers to me. 

I put the black discs at my ears, with the little round holes overthe ear openings. It was marvellous. I could hear the men washingdown one of the cars, the swash of water, and, best of all, thelow-toned, gruff gossip. 

"Just a couple of the men there, now, " explained Garrick. "Igather that they are talking about what happened last night. Iheard one of them say that someone they call 'the Chief' was therelast night and that another man, 'the Boss, ' gave him orders totell no one outside about it. I suppose the Chief is our friendwith the stupefying gun. The Boss must be the fellow who runs thegarage. What are they saying now? They were grumbling about theirwork when I handed the thing over to you. "

I listened, fascinated by the marvel of the thing. I could hearperfectly, although the men must have been in the front of thegarage. 

"Well, there's two of them yer won't haveter wash no more, " oneman was saying. "A feller from the perlice come an' copped offtwo--that sixty tin can and the ninety Despard. "

"Huh--so the bulls are after him?"

"Yeh. One was here all night after the fight. "

"Did they follow the Chief?"

"Follow the Chief? Say, when anyone follows the Chief he's gotterbe better than any bull that ever pounded a beat. "

"What did the Boss say when he heard it?"

"Mad as---. We gotter lay low now. "

"The Chief's gone up-state, I guess. "

"We can guess all we want. The Boss knows. I don't. "

"Why didn't they make a pinch? Ain't there nobody watchin' now?"

"Naw. They ain't got nothin' on us. Say, the Chief can put themfellers just where he wants 'em. See the paper this morning? Thatwas some raid up at the joint--eh?"

"You bet. That Garrick's a pretty smooth chap. But the Chief canput it all over him. "

"Yep, " agreed the other speaker. 

I handed the receivers back to Garrick with a smile. 

"You are not without some admirers, " I remarked, repeating theconversation substantially to him. "They'd shoot up theneighbourhood, I imagine, if they knew the truth. "

Hour after hour we took turns listening at the detectaphone. Wegathered a choice collection of slang and epithets, but verylittle real news. However, it was evident that they had awholesome respect for both the Chief and the Boss. It seemed thatthe real head of the gang, if it was a gang, had disappeared, asone of the men had already hinted "up-state. "

Garrick had meanwhile brought out the other detectaphone box, which was longer and larger than the oak box. 

"This isn't a regular detactaphone, " he explained, "but it mayvary the monotony of listening in and sometime I may find occasionto use it in another way, too. "

In one of the long faces were two square holes, from the edges ofwhich the inside walls focussed back on two smaller, circulardiaphragms. That made the two openings act somewhat like megaphonehorns to still further magnify the sound which was emitteddirectly from this receiver without using any earpieces, and couldbe listened to anywhere in the room, if we chose. This wasattached to the secret arrangement that had been connected withthe telephone by replacing the regular by the preparedtransmitter. 

One of us was in the room listening all the time. I remember once, while Guy had gone uptown for a short time, that I heard thetelephone bell ring in the device at my ear. Out of the larger boxissued a voice talking to one of the men. 

It was the man whom they referred to as the Chief. He had nothingto say when he learned that the Boss had not showed up since earlymorning after he had been quizzed by the police. But he left wordthat he would call up again. 

"At least I know that our gunman friend, the Chief, is going tocall up to-night, " I reported to Garrick on his return. 

"I think he'll be here, all right, " commented Garrick. "I calledup Dillon while I was out and he was convinced that the best waywas, as I said, to seem to let up on them. They didn't get a wordout of the fellow they call the Boss. He lives down here a coupleof streets, I believe, in a pretty tough place, even worse thanthe Old Tavern. I let Dillon get a man in there, but I haven'tmuch hope. He's only a tool of the other whom they call Chief. Bythe way, Forbes has disappeared. I can't find a trace of him sincethe raid on the gambling joint. "

"Any word from Warrington?" I asked. 

"Yes, he's getting along finely, " answered Guy mechanically, as ifhis thoughts were far away from Warrington. "Queer about Forbes, "he murmured, then cut himself short. "And, oh, " he added, "Iforgot to tell you that speaking about Forbes reminds me thatHerman has been running out a clew on the Rena Taylor case. He hasbeen all over the country up there, he reports to Dillon, and hesays he thinks the car was seen making for Pennsylvania. 

"They have a peculiar license law there, you know--at least hesays so--that enables one to conceal a car pretty well. Much goodthat does us. "

"Yes, " I agreed, "you can always depend on a man like Herman tocome along with something like that---"

Just then the "master station" detectaphone connected with thetelephone in the garage began to talk and I cut myself short. Weseemed now at last about to learn something really important. Itwas a new voice that said, "Hello!"

"Evidently the Boss has come in without making any noise, "remarked Guy. "I certainly heard no one through the otherinstrument. I fancy he was waiting for it to get dark beforecoming around. Listen. "

It was a long distance call from the man they called Chief. Wherehe was we had no means of finding out, but we soon found out wherehe was going. 

"Hello, Boss, " we heard come out of the detectaphone box. 

"Hello, Chief. You surely got us nearly pinched last night. Whatwas the trouble?"

"Oh, nothing much. Somehow or other they must have got on to us. Iguess it was when I called up the joint on Forty-eighth Street. Three men surprised me, but fortunately I was ready. If theyhadn't stopped at the door before they opened it, they might havegot me. I put 'em all out with that gun, though. Say, I want youto help me on a little job that I am planning. 

"Yes? Is it a safe one? Don't you think we'd better keep quiet fora little while?"

"But this won't keep quiet. Listen. You know I told you aboutwriting that letter regarding Warrington to Miss Winslow, when Iwas so sore over the report that he was going to close up theForty-eighth Street joint, right on top of finding that RenaTaylor had the 'goods' on the Forty-seventh Street place? Well, Iwas a fool. You said so, and I was, "

"You were--that's right. "

"I know it, but I was mad. I hadn't got all I wanted out of thoseplaces. Well, anyhow, I want that letter back--that's all. It'sbad to have evidence like that lying around. Why, if they ever geta real handwriting expert they might get wise to something fromthat handwriting, I'm afraid. I must have been crazy to do it thatway. "

"What became of the letter?"

"She took it to that fellow Garrick and I happen to know thatWarrington that night, after leaving Garrick, went to hisapartment and put something into the safe he has there. Oh, Warrington has it, all right. What I want to do is to get thatletter back while he is laid up near Tuxedo. It isn't much of asafe, I understand. I think a can opener would do the job. We canmake the thing look like a regular robbery by a couple of yeggs. Are you on?"

"No, I don't get you, Chief. "

"Why?"

"It's too risky. "

"Too risky?"

"Yes. That fellow Garrick is just as likely as not to be nosingaround up there. I'd go but for that. "

"I know. But suppose we find that he isn't there, that he isn't inthe house--has been there and left it. That would be safe enough. You're right. Nothing doing if he's there. We must can him in someway. But, say, --I know how to get in all right without being seen. I'll tell you later. Come on, be a sport. We won't try it ifanybody's there. Besides, if we succeed it will help to throw ascare into Warrington. "

The man on our end of the telephone appeared to hesitate. 

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Chief, " he said at length. "I'll meetyou at the same place as we met the other day--you know where Imean--some time after twelve. We'll talk it over. You're sureabout the letter?"

"As sure as if I'd seen it. "

"All right. Now, be there. I won't promise about this Warringtonbusiness. We'll talk that over. But I have other things I want totell you--about this situation here at the garage. I want to knowhow to act. "

"All right. I'll be there. Good-bye. "

"So long, Chief. "

The conversation stopped. I looked anxiously at Garrick to see howhe had taken it. 

"And so, " he remarked simply, as after a moment's waiting we madesure that the machine had stopped talking, "it appears that ourfriends, the enemy, are watching us as closely as we are watchingthem--with the advantage that they know us and we don't know them, except this garage fellow. "

Garrick lapsed into silence. I was rapidly turning over in my mindwhat we had just overheard and trying to plan some way ofcheckmating their next move. 

"Here's a plot hatching to rob Warrington's safe, " I exclaimedhelplessly. 

"Yes, " repeated Garrick slowly, "and if we are going to doanything about it, it must be done immediately, before we arousesuspicion and scare them off. Did you hear those footsteps overthe detectaphone? That was the Boss going out of the garage. So, they expect me around there, nosing about Warrington's apartment. Well, if I do go there, and then ostentatiously go away again, that will lure them on. "

He reached his decision quickly. Grabbing his hat, he led the wayout of the Old Tavern and up the street until we came to a drugstore with a telephone. 

I heard him first talking with Warrington, getting from him thecombination of the safe, over long distance. Then he called up hisoffice and asked the boy to meet him at the Grand Central subwaystation with a package, the location of which he describedminutely. 

"We'll beat them to it, " he remarked joyously, as we startedleisurely uptown to meet the boy. 

Chapter XIII

THE INCENDIARY

"The Warrington estate owns another large apartment house, besidesthe one where Warrington has his quarters, on the next street, "remarked Garrick, half an hour later, after we had met the boyfrom his office. "I have arranged that we can get in there and useone of the empty suites. "

Garrick had secured two rather good-sized boxes from the boy, andwas carrying them rather carefully, as if they contained some verydelicate mechanism. 

Warrington, we found, occupied a suite in a large apartment onSeventy-second Street, and, as we entered, Garrick stopped andwhispered a few words to the hall-boy. 

The boy seemed to be more than usually intelligent and hadevidently been told over the telephone by Warrington that we werecoming. At least we had no trouble, so far. 

Warrington's suite was very tastefully furnished for bachelorquarters. In the apartment, Garrick unwrapped one of the packages, and laid it open on the table, while he busied himself opening thesafe, using the combination that Warrington had given him. 

I waited nervously, for we could not be sure that no one had gotahead of us, already. There was no need for anxiety, however. 

"Here's the letter, just as Warrington left it, " reported Garrickin a few minutes, with some satisfaction, as he banged the safedoor shut and restored things so that it would not look as thoughthe little strong box had been touched. 

Meanwhile, I had been looking curiously at the box on the table. It did not seem to be like anything we had ever used before. Oneend was open, and the lid lifted up on a pair of hinges. I liftedit and looked in. About half way down the box from the open endwas a partition which looked almost as if some one had taken theend of the box and had just shoved it in, until it reached themiddle. 

The open half was empty, but in the other half I saw a sort ofplate of some substance covering the outside of the shoved-in end. There was also a dry cell and several arrangements for adjustmentswhich I did not understand. Back of the whole thing was a piece ofmechanism, a clockwork interrupter, as I learned later. Wires ledout from the closed end of the box. 

Garrick shoved the precious letter into his pocket and then placedthe box in a corner, where it was hidden by a pile of books, withthe open end facing the room in the direction of the antiquatedsafe. The wires from the box were quickly disposed of and droppedout of the window to the yard, several stories below, where wecould pick them up later as we had done with the detectaphone. 

"What's that?" I asked curiously, when at last he had finished andI felt at liberty to question him. 

"Well, you see, " he explained, "there is no way of knowing yetjust how the apartment will be entered. They apparently have someway, though, which they wouldn't discuss over the telephone. Butit is certain that as long as they know that there is anyone uphere, they will put off the attempt. They said that. "

He was busily engaged restoring everything in the room as far aspossible to its former position. 

"My scheme, " he went on, "is for us now to leave the apartmentostentatiously. I think that is calculated to insure the burglary, for they must have someone watching by this time. Then we can getback to that empty apartment in the house on the next street, andbefore they can get around to start anything, we shall be preparedfor them. "

Garrick stopped to speak to the hall-boy again as we left, carrying the other box. What he said I did not hear but the boynodded intelligently. 

After a turn down the street, a ride in a surface car for a fewblocks and back again, he was satisfied that no one was followingus and we made our way into the vacant apartment on Seventy-thirdStreet, without being observed. 

Picking up the wires from the back yard of Warrington's andrunning them across the back fence where he attached them to otherwires dropped down from the vacant apartment was accomplishedeasily, but it all took time, and time was precious, just now. 

In the darkness of the vacant room he uncovered and adjusted theother box, connected one set of wires to those we had led in andanother set to an apparatus which looked precisely like thereceiver of a wireless telegraph, fitting over the head with anearpiece. He placed the earpiece in position and began regulatingthe mechanism of the queer looking box. 

"I didn't want to use the detectaphone again, " he explained as heworked, "because we haven't any assurance that they'll talk, or, if they do, that it will be worth while to listen. Besides, theremay be only one of them. "

"Then what is this?" I asked. 

"Well, " he argued, "they certainly can't work without light ofsome kind, can they?"

I acquiesced. 

"This is an instrument which literally makes light audible, " hepursued. 

"Hear light?" I repeated, in amazement. 

"Exactly, " he reiterated. "You've said it. It was invented toassist the blind, but I think I'll be able to show that it can beused to assist justice--which is blind sometimes, they say. It isthe optophone. "

He paused to adjust the thing more accurately and I looked at itwith an added respect. 

"It was invented, " he resumed, "by Professor Fournier d'Albe, alecturer on physics at the University of Birmingham, England, andhas been shown before many learned societies over there. "

"You mean it enables the blind to see by hearing?" I asked. 

"That's it, " he nodded. "It actually enables the blind to locatemany things, purely by the light reflected by them. Its action isbased on the peculiar property of selenium, which, you probablyknow, changes its electrical conductivity under the influence oflight. Selenium in the dark is a poor conductor of electricity; inthe light it, strange to say, becomes a good conductor. Variationsof light can thus be transmuted into variations of sound. Thatpushed-in end of the box which we hid over in Warrington's had, asyou might have noticed, a selenium plate on the inside partition, facing the open end of the box. "

"I understand, " I agreed, vaguely. 

"Now, " he went on, "this property of selenium is used forproducing or rather allowing to be transmitted an electric currentwhich is interrupted by a special clockwork interrupter, and so ismade audible in this wireless telephone receiver which I have hereconnected with this second box. The eye is replaced by the ear asthe detector of light--that is all. "

It might have been all, but it was quite wonderful to me, even ifhe spoke of it so simply. He continued to adjust the thing as hetalked. 

"The clockwork has been wound up by means of a small handle, and Ihave moved that rod along a slit until I heard a purring sound. Then I moved it until the purring sound became as faint aspossible. The instrument is at the present moment in its mostsensitive state. "

"What does it sound like?" I asked. 

"Well, the passage of a hand or other object across the apertureis indicated by a sort of murmuring sound, " he replied, "theloudest sound indicating the passage of the edges where thecontrast is greatest. In a fairly bright light, even the swiftestshadow is discoverable. Prolonged exposure, however, blinds theoptophone, just as it blinds the eye. "

"Do you hear anything now?" I asked watching his face curiously. 

"No. When I turned the current on at first I heard a ticking orrasping sound. I silenced that. But any change in the amount oflight in that dark room over there would restore the sound, andits intensity would indicate the power of the light. "

He continued to listen. 

"When I first tried this, I found that a glimpse out of the windowin daylight sounded like a cinematograph reeling off a film. Theticking sank almost into silence as the receiving apparatus washeld in the shadow of the office table, and leaped into a livelyrattle again when I brought it near an electric-light bulb. Iblindfolded myself and moved a piece of blotting paper between thereceiver and the light. I could actually hear the grating of theshadow, yes, I heard the shadow pass. At night, too, I have foundthat it is even affected by the light of the stars. "

He glanced out of the window in the direction of Warrington's, which we could not see, however, since it was around an angle ofthe building. 

"See, " he went on, "the moon is rising, and in a few minutes, Icalculate, it will shine right into that room over there onSeventy-second Street. By using this optophone, I could tell youthe moment it does. Try the thing, yourself, Tom. "

I did so. Though my ear was untrained to distinguish betweensounds I could hear just the faintest noise. 

Suddenly there came a weird racket. Hastily I looked up at Garrickin surprise. 

"What is that?" I asked endeavouring to describe it. "Are theythere now?"

"No, " he laughed. "That was the moon shining in. I wanted you tohear what a difference it makes. When a ray of the sun, forinstance, strikes that 'feeler' over there, a harmonious andmajestic sound like the echo of a huge orchestra is heard. Thelight of the moon, on the other hand, produces a different sound--lamenting, almost like the groans of the wounded on abattlefield. "

"So you can distinguish between various kinds of light?"

"Yes. Electric light, you would find if anyone came in andswitched it on over there, produces a most unpleasant sound, sometimes like two pieces of glass rubbed against each other, sometimes like the tittering laugh of ghosts, and I have heard itlike the piercing cry of an animal. Gaslight is sobbing andwhispering, grating and ticking, according to its intensity. Byfar the most melodious and pleasing sound is produced by anordinary wax candle. It sounds just like an aeolian harp on whichthe chords of a solemn tune are struck. I have even tried a glow-worm and it sounded like a bee buzzing. The light from a red-hotpiece of iron gives the shrillest and most ear-splitting cryimaginable. "

He took the receiver back from me and adjusted it to his own ear. 

"Yes, " he confirmed, "that was the moon, as I thought. It's apeculiar sound. Once you have heard it you're not likely to forgetit. I must silence the machine to that. "

We had waited patiently for a long time, and still there was noevidence that anyone had entered the room. 

"I'm afraid they decided not to attempt it after all, " I said, finally. 

"I don't think so, " replied Garrick. "I took particular pains tomake it seem that the road was clear. You remember, I spoke to thehall-boy twice, and we lingered about long enough when we left. Itisn't much after midnight. I wonder how it was that they expectedto get in. Ah--there goes the moon. I can hear it getting fainterall the time. "

Suddenly Garrick's face was all animation. "What is it?" I askedbreathlessly. 

"Someone has entered the room. There is a light which sounds justlike an electric flashlight which is being moved about. Theyhaven't switched on the electric light. Now, if I weresufficiently expert I think I could tell by the varying sounds atjust what that fellow is flashing the light. There, somethingpassed directly between the light and the box. Yes, there must betwo of them--that was the shadow of a human being, all right. Theyare over in the corner by the safe, now. The fellow with theflashlight is bending down. I can tell, because the other fellowwalked between the light and the box and the light must be heldvery low, for I heard the shadows of both of his legs. "

Garrick was apparently waiting only until the intruders, whoeverthey were, were busily engaged in their search before he gave thealarm and hurried over in an attempt to head off their escape bytheir secret means of entrance. 

"Tom, " he cried, as he listened attentively, "call up theapartment over there and get that hall-boy. Tell him he must notrun that elevator up until we get there. No one must leave orenter the building. Tell him to lock the front door and concealhimself in the door that leads down to the cellar. I will ring thenight bell five times to let him know when to let us in. "

I was telephoning excitedly Garrick's instructions and as hewaited for me to finish he was taking a last turn at the optophonebefore we made our dash on Warrington's. 

A suppressed exclamation escaped him. I turned toward him quicklyfrom the telephone and hung up the receiver. 

"What's the matter?" I asked anxiously. 

For a moment he did not reply, but seemed to be listening with anintensity that I knew betokened something unexpected. 

"Tom, " he cried abruptly, stripping the receiver from his headwith a jerk and clapping it over my own ears, "quick!--tell mewhat you hear. What does it sound like to you? What is it? I can'tbe mistaken. "

I listened feverishly. Not having had a former acquaintance withthe machine, I did not know just what to make of it. But from thereceiver of the little optophone there seemed to issue the mostpeculiar noise I had ever heard a mechanical instrument make. 

It was like a hoarse rumbling cry, now soft and almost plaintive, again louder and like a shriek of a damned soul in the fires ofthe nether world. Then it died down, only to spring up again, worse than before. 

If I had been listening to real sounds instead of to light Ishould have been convinced that the thing was recording a murder. 

I described it as best I could. The fact was that the thing almostfrightened me by its weird novelty. 

"Yes--yes, " agreed Garrick, as the sensations I experienced seemedto coincide with his own. "Exactly what I heard myself. I feltsure that I could not be mistaken. Quick, Tom, --get central onthat wire!"

A moment later he seized the telephone from me. I had expected himto summon the police to assist us in capturing two crooks who had, perhaps, devised some odd and scientific method of blowing up asafe. 

"Hello, hello!" he shouted frantically over the wire. "The firedepartment! This is eight hundred Seventy-second--on the corner;yes, yes--northeast. I want to turn in an alarm. Yes--quick! Thereis a fire--a bad one--incendiary--top floor. No, no--I'm notthere. I can see it. Hurry!"

CHAPTER XIV

THE ESCAPE

He had dropped the telephone receiver without waiting to replaceit on the hook and was now dashing madly out of the emptyapartment and down the street. 

The hall-boy at Warrington's had done exactly as I had orderedhim. There was the elevator waiting as Garrick gave the five shortrings at the nightbell and the outside door was unlocked. No onehad yet discovered the fire which we knew was now raging on thetop floor of the apartment. 

We were whirled up there swiftly, just as we heard echoing throughthe hall and the elevator shaft from someone who had an apartmenton the same floor the shrill cry of, "Fire, fire!"

Tenants all the way up were now beginning to throw open theirdoors and run breathlessly about in various states of undress. Theelevator bell was jangling insistently. 

In the face of the crisis the elevator boy looked at Garrickappealingly. 

"Run your car up and down until all are out who want to go, "ordered Garrick. "Only tell them all that an alarm has alreadybeen turned in and that there is no danger except to the suitethat is on fire. You may leave us here. "

We had reached the top floor and stepped out. I realised fully nowwhat had happened. Either the robbers had found out only tooquickly that they had been duped or else they had reasoned thatthe letter they sought had been hidden in a place in the apartmentfor which they had no time to hunt. 

It had probably been the latter idea which they had had and, instead of hunting further, they had taken a quicker and moreunscrupulous method than Garrick had imagined and had set the roomon fire. Fortunately that had been promptly and faithfullyreported to us over the optophone in time to localize the damage. 

"At least we were able to turn in an alarm only a few secondsafter they started the fire, " panted Garrick, as he strained toburst in the door. 

Together we managed to push it in, and rushed into the stifle ofWarrington's suite. The whole thing was in flames and it wasimpossible for us to remain there longer than to take in thesituation. 

Accordingly we retreated slowly before the fierce blaze. One ofthe other tenants came running with a fire extinguisher in eitherhand from wall rack down the hall on this floor. As well try todrown a blast furnace. They made no impression whatever. 

Personally I had expected nothing like this. I had been preparedup to the time the optophone reported the fire to dash over andfight it out at close quarters with two as desperate andresourceful men as underworld conditions in New York at that timehad created. Instead we saw no one at all. 

The robbers had evidently worked in seconds instead of minutes, realizing that they must take no risks in a showdown with Garrick. Rooms that might perhaps have given some clew of their presence, perhaps finger-prints which might have settled their identity atonce, were now being destroyed. We had defeated them. We had theprecious letter. But they had again slipped away. 

Firemen were now arriving. A hose had been run up, and a solidstream of water was now hissing on the fire. Smoke and steam wereeverywhere as the men hacked and cut their way at the very heartof the hungry red monster. 

"We are only in the way here, Tom, " remarked Garrick, retreatingfinally. "Our friends must have entered and escaped by the roof. There is no other way. "

He had dashed up ahead of the firemen. I followed. Sure enough, the door out on the roof had been broken into. A rope tied arounda chimney showed how they had pulled themselves up and later letthemselves down to the roof of the next apartment some fifteenfeet lower. We could see an open door leading to the roof there, which must also have been broken open. That had evidently been thesecret method of which the Chief had spoken to the Boss, whoeverthey might be, who bore these epithets. 

Pursuit was useless, now. All was excitement. From the street wecould hear the clang of engines and trucks arriving and takingtheir positions, almost as if the fire department had laid out thecampaign beforehand for this very fire. 

Anyone who had waited a moment or so in the other apartment downthe street might have gone downstairs without attracting anyattention. Then he might have disappeared in or mingled with thevery crowd on the street which he had caused to gather. Late as itwas, the crowd seemed to spring from nowhere, and to growmomentarily as it had done during the raid on the gambling joint. It was one of the many interesting night phenomena of New York. 

What had been intended to be one of the worst fires and to injurea valuable property of the Warrington estate had, thanks to theprompt action of Garrick, been quickly turned into only a minoraffair, at the worst. The fire had eaten its way into two otherrooms of Warrington's own suite, but there it had been stopped. The building itself was nearly fireproof, and each suite was aunit so that, to all intents and purposes, it might burn outwithout injury to others. 

Still, it was interesting to watch the skill and intuition of thesmoke-eaters as they took in the situation and almost instantlyseemed to be able to cope with it. 

Sudden and well-planned though the incendiary assault had been, itwas not many minutes before it was completely under control. Menin rubber coats and boots were soon tramping through the water-soaked rooms of Warrington. Windows were cracked open and the airin the rooms was clearing. 

We followed in cautiously after one of the firemen. Everywhere wasthe penetrating smell of burnt wood and cloth. In the corner wasthe safe, still hot and steaming. It had stood the strain. But itshowed marks of having been tampered with. 

"Somebody used a 'can-opener' on it, " commented Garrick, lookingat it critically and then ruefully at the charred wreck of hisoptophone that had tumbled in the ashes of the pile of books underwhich it had been hidden, "Yes, that was the scheme they must haveevolved after their midnight conference, --a robbery masked by afire to cover the trail, and perhaps destroy it altogether. "

"If we had only known that, " I agreed, "we might have saved whatlittle there was in that safe for Warrington. But I guess hedidn't keep much there. "

"No, " answered Garrick, "I don't think he did. All I saw was somepersonal letters and a few things he apparently liked to havearound here. I suppose all the really valuable stuff he has was ina safety-deposit vault somewhere. There was a packet of--it'sgone! What do you think of that?" he exclaimed looking up from thesafe to me in surprise. 

"Packet of what?" I asked. "What is gone?"

"Why, " replied Garrick, "I couldn't help noticing it when I openedthe safe before, but Warrington had evidently saved every line andscrap of writing that Violet Winslow had ever given him and it wasall in one of the compartments of the safe. The compartment isempty!"

Neither of us could say a word. What reason might there be whyanyone should want Warrington's love letters? Was it to learnsomething that might be used to embarrass him? Might it be for thepurpose of holding him up for money? Did the robber want them forhimself or was he employed by another? These and a score of otherquestions flashed, unanswered, through my mind. 

"I wonder who this fellow is that they call the Chief?" I venturedat last. 

"I can't say--yet, " admitted Garrick. "But he's the cleverest Ihave ever met. His pace is rapid, but I think we are getting upwith it, at last. There's no use sticking around here any longer, though. The place for us, I think, is downtown, getting an earfulat the other end of that detectaphone. "

The engines and other apparatus were rolling away from the firewhen we regained the street and things were settling themselvesdown to normal again. 

We rode downtown on the subway, and I was surprised when Garrick, instead of going all the way down to the crosstown line that wouldtake us to the Old Tavern, got off at Forty-second Street. 

"What's the idea of this?" I asked. 

"Do you think I'm going to travel around the city with that letterin my pocket?" he asked. "Not much, since they seem to set such avalue on getting it back. Of course, they don't know that I haveit. But they might suspect it. At any rate I'm not going to runany chances of losing it. "

He had stopped at a well-known hotel where he knew the nightclerk. There he made the letter into a little package, sealed it, and deposited it in the safe. 

"Why do you leave it here?" I asked. 

"If I go near the office, they might think I left it there, and Icertainly won't leave it in my own apartment. They may or may notsuspect that I have it. At any rate, I'd hate to risk meeting themdown in their own region. But here we are not followed. I canleave it safely and to-morrow I'll get it and deposit it in areally safe place. Now, just to cover up my tracks, I'm going tocall up Dillon, but I'm going up Broadway a bit before I do so, sothat even he will not know I've been in this hotel. I think heought to know what has happened to-day. "

"What did he say?" I asked as Garrick rejoined me from thetelephone booth, his face wearing a scowl of perplexity. 

"Why, he knew about it already, " replied Garrick. "I got him athis home. Herman, it seems, got back from some wild-goose chaseover in New Jersey and saw the report in the records filed atpolice headquarters and telephoned him. "

"Herman is one of the brightest detectives I ever met, " Icommented in disgust. "He always manages to get in just aftereverybody else. Has he any more news?"

"About the car?" asked Garrick absently. "Nothing except that heran down the Pennsylvania report and found there was nothing init. Now he says that he thinks the car may have returned to NewYork, perhaps by way of Staten Island, for he doubts whether itcould have slipped in by New Jersey. "

"Clever, " I ejaculated. "I suppose that occurred to him as soon ashe read about the fire. I have to hand it to him for being adeducer. "

Garrick smiled. 

"There's one thing, though, he does know, " he added, "and that isthe gossip of the underworld right here in New York. "

"I should hope so, " I replied. "That was his business to know. Why, has he found out anything really new?"

"Why--er--yes. Dillon tells me that it now appears that Forbes hadbeen intimate with that Rena Taylor. "

"Yes?" I repeated, not surprised. 

"At least that's what Herman has told him. "

"Well, " I exclaimed in disgust, "Forbes is a fine one to runaround with stool-pigeons and women of the Tenderloin, in additionto his other accomplishments, and then expect to associate with agirl like Violet Winslow. "

"It is scandalous, " he agreed. "Why, according to Dillon andHerman, she must have been getting a good deal of evidence throughher intimacy with Forbes. They probably gambled together, dranktogether, and---"

"Do you suppose Forbes ever found out that she was really usinghim?"

Garrick shook his head. "I can't say, " he replied. "There isn'tmuch value in this deductive, long distance detective work. Youreason a thing out to your satisfaction and then one little factknocks all your clever reasoning sky-high. The trouble here isthat on this aspect of the case the truth seems to have been knownby only two persons--and one of them is dead, while the other hasdisappeared. "

"Strange what has become of Forbes, " I ruminated. 

"It is indeed, " agreed Garrick. "But then he was such a night-hawkthat anything might easily have happened and no one be the wiser. Since you saw him enter the gambling joint the night of the raid, I've been unable to get a line on him. He must have gone throughthe tunnel to the ladies' poolroom, but after he left that, presumably, I can't find a trace of him. Where he went no oneseems to know. This bit of gossip that Herman has unearthed is thefirst thing I've heard of him, definitely, for two days. "

"If Rena Taylor were alive, " I speculated, "I don't think you'dhave to look further for Forbes than to find her. "

"But she isn't alive, " concluded Garrick, "and there is nothing toshow that there was anyone else at the poolroom for women whointerested him--and--well, this isn't getting back to business. "

He turned toward the street. 

"Let's go down on a surface car, " he said. "I think we ought tolearn something down there at the Old Tavern, now. If these peoplehave done nothing more, they'll think they have at least given anexample of their resourcefulness and succeeded in throwing anotherscare into Warrington. But there's one thing I'd like to be ableto tell Mr. Chief, however. He can't throw any scare into me, ifthat's his game. "

CHAPTER XV

THE PLOT

We had been able to secure a key to the hotel entrance of the OldTavern, so that we felt free to come and go at any hour of the dayor night. We let ourselves in and mounted the stairs cautiously toour room. 

"At least they haven't discovered anything, yet, " Garrickcongratulated himself, looking about, as I struck a light, andfinding everything as we had left it. 

Late as it was, he picked up the detective receiver of themechanical eavesdropper and held it to his ears, listeningintently several moments. 

"There's someone in the garage, all right, " he exclaimed. "I canhear sounds as if he were moving about among the cars. It must bethe garage keeper himself--the one they call the Boss. I don'tthink our clever Chief would have the temerity to show up hereyet, even at this hour. "

We waited some time, but not the sound of a voice came from theinstrument. 

"It would be just like them to discover one of thesedetectaphones, " remarked Garrick at length. "This is a goodopportunity. I believe I'll just let myself down there in the yardagain and separate those two wires, further. There's no use inrisking all the eggs in one basket. "

While I listened in, Garrick cautiously got out the rope ladderand descended. Through the detectaphone I could hear the noise ofthe man walking about the garage and was ready at the window togive Garrick the first alarm of danger if he approached the backof the shop, but nothing happened and he succeeded inaccomplishing his purpose of further hiding the two wires andreturning safely. Then we resumed listening in relays. 

It was early in the morning when there came a telephone call tothe garage and the garage keeper answered it. 

"Where did you go afterward?" he asked of the man who was callinghim. 

Garrick had quickly shifted to the instrument by which we couldoverhear what was said over the telephone. 

A voice which I recognised instantly as that of the man theycalled the Chief replied, "Oh, I had a little business to attendto--you understand. Say, they got that fire out pretty quickly, didn't they? How do you suppose the alarm could have been turnedin so soon?"

"I don't know. But they tell me that Garrick and that other fellowwith him showed up, double quick. He must have been wise tosomething. "

"Yes. Do you know, I've been thinking about that ever since. Everhear of a little thing called a detectaphone? No? Well, it's alittle arrangement that can be concealed almost anywhere. I'vebeen wondering whether there might not be one hidden about yourgarage. He might have put one in that night, you know. I'm sure heknows more about us than he has any right to know. Hunt aroundthere, will you, and see if you can find anything?"

"Hold the wire. "

We could hear the Boss poking around in corners, back of the pilesof accessories, back of the gasoline tank, lifting things up andlooking under them, apparently flashing his light everywhere sothat nothing could escape him. 

A hasty exclamation was recorded faithfully over our detectaphone, close to the transmitter, evidently. 

"What the deuce is this?" growled a voice. 

Then over the telephone we could hear the Boss talking. 

"There's a round black thing back of a pile of tires, with a wireconnected to it. One side of it is full of little round holes. Isthat one of those things?"

"Yes, " came back the voice, "that's it. " Then excitedly, "Smashit! Cut the wires--no, wait--look and see where they run. Ithought you'd find something. Curse me for a fool for not thinkingof that before. "

Garrick had quickly himself detached the wire from the receivinginstrument in our room and, sticking his head cautiously out ofthe window, he swung the cut ends as far as he could in thedirection of a big iron-shuttered warehouse down the street in theopposite direction from us. 

Then he closed the window softly and pulled down the switch on theother detectaphone connected with the fake telephone receiver. 

He smiled quietly at me. The thing worked still. We had oneconnection left with the garage, anyway. 

There was a noise of something being shattered to bits. It was theblack disc back of the pile of tires. We could hear the Bossmuttering to himself. 

"Say, " he reported back over the telephone, "I've smashed thething, all right, and cut the wires, too. They ran out of the backwindow to that mercantile warehouse, down the street, I think. I'll look after that in the morning. It's so dark over there now Ican't see a thing. "

"Good!" exclaimed the other voice with satisfaction. "Now we cantalk. That fellow Garrick isn't such a wise guy, after all. I tellyou, Boss, I'm going to throw a good scare into them this time--one that will stick. "

"What is it?"

"Well, I got Warrington, didn't I?"

"Yes. "

"You know I can't always be following that fellow, Garrick. He'stoo clever at dodging shadows. Besides, unless we give himsomething else to think about he may get a line on one of us, --onme. Don't you understand? Warrington's out of it for the present. I saw to that. Now, the thing is to fix up something to call themoff, altogether, something that we can use to hold them up. "

"Yes--go on--what?"

"Why--how about Violet Winslow?"

My heart actually skipped beating for a second or two as Irealised the boldness and desperation of the plan. 

"What do you mean--a robbery up there in Tuxedo?"

"No, no, no. What good would a robbery do? I mean to get her--kidnap her. I guess Warrington would call the whole thing off torelease her--eh?"

"Say, Chief, that's going it pretty strong. I'd rather break in upthere and leave a threat of some kind, something that wouldfrighten them. But, this, --I'm afraid--"

"Afraid--nothing. I tell you, we've got to do it. They're gettingtoo close to us. We've either got to get Garrick or do somethingthat'll call him off for good. Why, man, the whole game is up ifhe keeps on the way he has been going--let alone the risk we haveof getting caught. "

The Boss seemed to be considering. 

"How will you get a chance to do it?" he asked at length. 

"Oh, I'll get a chance, all right. I'll make a chance, " came backthe self-confident reply. 

It sent a shiver through me merely to contemplate what mighthappen if Violet Winslow fell into such hands. Mentally I blessedGarrick for his forethought in having the phony 'phone in thegarage against possible discovery of the detective instrument. 

"You know this poisoned needle stuff that's been in the papers?"pursued the Chief. 

"Bunk--all bunk, " came back the Boss promptly. 

"Is that so?" returned the Chief. "Well, you're right about it asfar as what has been in the papers is concerned. I don't know butI doubt about ninety-nine and ninety-nine hundredths per cent ofit, too. But, I'll tell you, --it can be done. Take it from me--itcan be done. I've got one of the best little sleepmakers you eversaw--right from Paris, too. There, what do you know about that?"

I glanced hastily, in alarm, at Garrick. His face was set in hardlines, as he listened. 

"Sleepmaker--Paris, " I heard him mutter under his breath, and justa flicker of a smile crossed the set lines of his fine face. 

"Yes, sir, " pursued the voice of the Chief, "I can pull one ofthose poisoned needle cases off and I'm going to do it, if I gethalf a chance. "

"When would you do it?" asked the Boss, weakening. 

"As soon as I can. I've a scheme. I'm not going to tell you overthe wire, though. Leave it to me. I'm going up to our place, whereI left the car. I'll study the situation out, up there. Maybe I'llrun over and look over the ground, see how she spends her time andall that sort of thing. I've got to reckon in with that aunt, too. She's a Tartar. I'll let you know. In the meantime, I want you towatch that place on Forty-seventh Street. Tell me if they make anymove against it. Don't waste any time, either. I can't be out oftouch with things the way I was the last time I went away. Yousee, they almost put one across on us--in fact they did put oneacross with that detectaphone thing. Now, we can't let that happenagain. Just keep me posted, see?"

They had finished talking and that was apparently all we were toget that night, or rather that morning, by way of warning of theirplot for the worst move yet. 

It was enough. If they would murder and burn, what would they stopat in order to strike at us through the innocent figure of VioletWinslow? What might not happen to such a delicate slip of a girlin the power of such men?

"At least, " rapped out Garrick, himself smothering his alarm, "they can't do anything immediately. It gives us time to prepareand warn. Besides, before that we may have them rounded up. Thetime has come for something desperate. I won't be trifled with anylonger. This last proposal goes just over the limit. "

As for me, I was speechless. The events of the past two days, thealmost sleepless nights had sapped my energy. Even Garrick, thoughhe was a perfect glutton for work, felt the strain. 

It was very late, or rather very early, and we determined tosnatch a few moments of sleep at the Old Tavern before the rest ofthe world awoke to the new day. It was only a couple of hours thatwe could spare, but it was absolutely necessary. 

In spite of our fatigue, we were up again early and after anothertry at the phony 'phone which told us that only the men wereworking in the garage, we were on our way up to Garrick'sapartment. 

We had scarcely entered when the telephone boy called up to saythat there was a Mr. Warrington on long distance trying to get us. Garrick eagerly asked to have him put on our wire. 

Warrington, it seemed, had been informed of the fire by one of hisagents and was inquiring anxiously for details, especially aboutthe letter. Garrick quickly apologised for not calling up himself, and relieved his anxiety by assuring him that the letter was safe. 

"And how are you?" he asked of Warrington. 

"Convalescing rapidly, " laughed back the patient, to whom the lossof anything was a mere bagatelle beside the letter. Garrick hadnot told him yet of the stealing of the other letters. "Gettingalong fine, --thanks to a new tonic which Dr. Mead has prescribedfor me. "

"I can guess what it is. "

Warrington laughed again. "Yes--I've been allowed to take shortmotor trips with Violet, " he explained. 

The natural manner in which "Violet" replaced "Miss Winslow"indicated that the trips had not been without result. 

"Say, Warrington, " burst out Garrick, seeing an opportunity ofintroducing the latest news, "I hate to butt in, but if you'lltake my advice, you'll just cut out those trips a few days. Idon't want to alarm you unnecessarily, but after to-day I wantMiss Winslow never to be out of sight of friends--friends, I said;not one, but several. "

"Why--what's the matter?" demanded Warrington in alarm. 

"I can't explain it all over the telephone, " replied Garrick, sketching out hastily something of what we had overheard. "I'lltry to see you before long--perhaps to-day. Don't forget. I wantyou to warn Miss Winslow yourself. You can't put it too strongly. Use your judgment about Mrs. De Lancey. I don't want to get you inwrong with her. But, remember, it's a matter of life or death--orperhaps worse. Try to do it without unnecessarily alarming MissWinslow, if you can. Just fix it up as quietly as possible. But bepositive about it. No, I can't explain more over the wire now. But--no more outings for either of you, and particularly MissWinslow, until I raise the ban. "

Warrington had been inclined to argue the matter at first, butGarrick of course quickly prevailed, the more so becauseWarrington realised that in his condition he was anything but anadequate body-guard for her if something unexpected should happen. 

"Oh--I had a call the other day, " reported Warrington as anafterthought before hanging up the receiver. "It was fromMcBirney. He says one of his unofficial scouts has told him ofseeing a car that might have been mine up this way lately. "

Garrick acquiesced to the information which, to us, was not new. "Yes, " he said, "there have been several such reports. And, by theway, that reminds me of something. You will have to put at ourdisposal one of your cars down here. "

"Go as far as you like. What do you want--a racer?"

"Why--yes, if it's in perfect condition. You see, we may have todo some unexpected sleuthing in it. "

"Go as far as you like, " repeated Warrington, now thoroughlyaroused by the latest development of the case. "Spare nothing, Garrick--nothing. Curse my luck for being laid up! Every dollar Ihave is at your disposal, Garrick, to protect her from thosescoundrels--damn them!"

"Trust me, Warrington, " called back Garrick. "I give you my wordthat it's my fight now. "

"Garrick--you're a brick, " came back Warrington as theconversation closed. 

"Good heavens, Guy, " I exclaimed when he hung up the receiverafter calling up Warrington's garage and finding out what carswere available, "Are we going to have to extend operations overthe whole State, after all?"

"We may have to do almost anything, " he replied, "if ourscientific murderer tries some of his smooth kidnapping tricks. It's possible that McBirney may be right about that car being upthere. Certainly we know that it has been up there, whether it isnow or not. "

"And Herman wrong about its being in the city?" I suggested. "Well, one guess is as good as another in a case like this, Isuppose. "

It had been a great relief to get back to our rooms and live evenfor a few minutes like civilised beings. I suggested that we mighthave a real breakfast once more. 

I could tell, however, that Garrick's mind was far away from thethought of eating, and that he realised that a keen, perhaps thekeenest, test of his ability lay ahead of him, if he was to comeout successfully and protect Violet Winslow in the final battlewith the scientific gunman. I did not interrupt him. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE POISONED NEEDLE

Over a still untasted grapefruit Garrick was considering what hisnext move should be. As for me, even this temporary return to anormal life caused me to view things in a different light. 

There had been, as the Chief and the Boss had hinted at in theirconversation, a wave of hysteria which had swept over the cityonly a short time before regarding what had come to be called the"poisoned needle" cases. Personally I had doubted them and I hadknown many doctors and scientists as well as vice and graftinvestigators who had scouted them, too. 

"Garrick, " I said at length, "do you really think that we have todeal with anything in this case but just plain attemptedkidnapping of the old style?"

He shook his head doubtfully. I knew him to be anything but analarmist and waited impatiently for him to speak. 

"I wouldn't think so, " he said at length slowly, "except for onething. "

"What's that?" I asked eagerly. 

"His mention of the 'sleepmakers' and Paris, " he replied briefly. 

Garrick had risen and walked over to a cabinet in the corner ofhis room. When he returned it was with something gleaming in themorning sunshine as he rolled it back and forth on a piece ofpaper, just a shining particle. He picked it up carefully. 

I bent over to look at it more closely and there, in Garrick'shand, was a tiny bit of steel, scarcely three-eighths of an inchlong, a mere speck. It was like nothing of which I had ever heardor read. Yet Garrick himself seemed to regard the minute thingwith a sort of awe. As for me, I knew not what to make of it. Iwondered whether it might not be some new peril. 

"What is it?" I asked at length, seeing that Garrick might bedisposed to talk, if I prompted him. 

"Well, " he answered laconically, holding it up to the light sothat I could see that it was in reality a very minute, pointedhollow tube, "what would you say if I told you it was the point ofa new--er--poisoned needle?"

He said it in such a simple tone that I reacted from it toward myown preconceived notions of the hysterical newspaper stories. 

"I've heard about all the poisoned needle stories, " I returned. "I've investigated some of them and written about them for mypaper, Guy. And I must say still that I doubt them. Now in thefirst place, the mere insertion of a hypodermic needle--of course, you've had it done, Guy--is something so painful that anyone inhis senses would cry aloud. Then to administer a drug that wayrequires a great deal of skill and knowledge of anatomy, if it isto be done with full and quick effect. "

Garrick said nothing, but continued to regard the hollow pointwhich he had obtained somewhere, perhaps on a previous case. 

"Why, such an injection, " I continued, recalling the result of myformer careful investigations on the subject, "couldn't actinstantaneously anyhow, as it must if they are to get away withit. After the needle is inserted, the plunger has to be pusheddown, and the whole thing would take at least thirty seconds. Andthen, the action of the drug. That would take time, too. It seemsto me that in no case could it be done without the person's beinginstantly aware of it and, before lapsing into unconsciousness, calling for help or--"

"On the contrary, " interrupted Garrick quietly, "it is absurdlyeasy. Waiving the question whether they might not be able to getViolet Winslow in such a situation where even the old hypodermicmethod which you know would serve as well as any other, why, Marshall, just the hint that fellow dropped tells me that he couldwalk up to her on the street or anywhere else, and--"

He did not finish the sentence, but left it to my imagination. Itwas my turn, now, to remain silent. 

"You are right, though, Tom, in one respect, " he resumed a momentlater. "It is not easy by the old methods that everyone now knows. For instance, take the use of chloral-knock-out drops, you know. That is crude, too. Hypodermics and knock-out drops may answerwell enough, perhaps, for the criminals whose victims are found incafes and dives of a low order. But for the operations of anaristocratic criminal of to-day--and our friend the Chief seems tobelong to the aristocracy of the underworld--far more subtlemethods are required. Let me show you something. "

Carefully, from the back of a drawer in the cabinet, where it wasconcealed in a false partition, he pulled out a little case. Heopened it, and in it displayed a number of tiny globes and tubesof thin glass, each with a liquid in it, some lozenges, somebonbons, and several cigars and cigarettes. 

"I'm doing this, " he remarked, "to show you, Tom, that I'm notunduly magnifying the danger that surrounds Violet Winslow, afterhearing what I did over that detectaphone. Perhaps it didn'timpress you, but I think I know something of what we're upagainst. "

From another part of the case he drew a peculiar looking affairand handed to me without a word. It consisted of a glass syringeabout two inches long, fitted with a glass plunger and an asbestoswasher. On the other end of the tube was a hollow point, aboutthree-eighths of an inch long--just a shiny little bit of steelsuch as he had already showed me. 

I looked at it curiously and, in spite of my former assurance, began to wonder whether, after all, the possibility of a girlbeing struck down suddenly, without warning, in a public place androbbed--or worse--might not take on the guise of ghastly reality. 

"What do you make of it?" asked Garrick, evidently now enjoyingthe puzzled look on my face. 

I could merely shrug my shoulders. 

"Well, " he drawled, "that is a weapon they hinted at last night. The possibilities of it are terrifying. Why, it could easily beplunged through a fur coat, without breaking. "

He took the needle and made an imaginary lunge at me. 

"When people tell you that the hypodermic needle cannot beemployed in a case like this that they are planning, " hecontinued, "they are thinking of ordinary hypodermics. Thosethings wouldn't be very successful usually, anyhow, under suchcircumstances. But this is different. The very form of this needlemakes it particularly effective for anyone who wishes to use itfor crime. For instance--take it on a railroad or steamship or ina hotel. Draw back the plunger--so--one quick jab--then drop it onthe floor and grind it under your heel. The glass is splinteredinto a thousand bits. All evidence of guilt is destroyed, unlesssomeone is looking for it practically with a microscope. "

"Yes, " I persisted, "that is all right--but the pain and themoments before the drug begins to work?"

With one hand Garrick reached into the case, selecting a littlethin glass tube, and with the other he pulled out hishandkerchief. 

"Smell that!" he exclaimed, bending over me so that I could seeevery move and be prepared for it. 

Yet it was done so quickly that I could not protect myself. 

"Ugh!" I ejaculated in surprise, as Garrick manipulated the thingwith a legerdemain swiftness that quite baffled me, even though hehad given me warning to expect something. 

Everyone has seen freak moving picture films where the actorsuddenly bobs up in another place, without visibly crossing theintervening space. The next thing I knew, Garrick was standingacross the room, in just that way. The handkerchief was folded upand in his pocket. 

It couldn't have been done possibly in less than a minute. Whathad happened? Where had that minute or so gone? I felt a sickeningsensation. 

"Smell it again?" Garrick laughed, taking a step toward me. 

I put up my hand and shook my head negatively, slowlycomprehending. 

"You mean to tell me, " I gasped, "that I was--out?"

"I could have jabbed a dozen needles into you and you would neverhave known it, " asserted Garrick with a quiet smile playing overhis face. 

"What is the stuff?" I asked, quite taken aback. 

"Kelene--ethyl chloride. Whiff!--and you are off almost in asecond. It is an anaesthetic of nearly unbelievable volatility. Itcomes in little hermetically sealed tubes, with a tiny capillaryorifice, to prevent its too rapid vaporising, even when opened foruse. Such a tube may be held in the palm of the hand and the endcrushed off. The warmth of the hand alone is sufficient to start averitable spray. It acts violently on the senses, too. But keleneanaesthesia lasts only a minute or so. The fraction of time islong enough. Then comes the jab with the real needle--perhapsanother whiff of kelene to give the injection a chance. In two orthree minutes the injection itself is working and the victim isunconscious, without a murmur--perhaps, as in your case, withoutany clear idea of how it all happened--even without recollectionof a handkerchief, unable to recall any sharp pain of a needle oranything else. "

He was holding up a little bottle in which was a thick, colorlesssyrup. 

"And what is that?" I asked, properly tamed and no longer disposedto be disputatious. 

"Hyoscine. "

"Is it powerful?"

"One one-hundredth of a grain of this strength, perhaps less, willrender a person unconscious, " replied Garrick. "The first symptomis faintness; the pupils of the eyes dilate; speech is lost;vitality seems to be floating away, and the victim lapses intounconsciousness. It is derived from henbane, among ether things, and is a rapid, energetic alkaloid, more rapid than chloral andmorphine. And, preceded by a whiff of kelene, not even thesensations I have described are remembered. "

I could only stare at the outfit before me, speechless. 

"In Paris, where I got this, " continued Garrick, "they call thesepeople who use it, 'endormeurs'--sleepmakers. That must have beenwhat the Chief meant when he used that word. I knew it. "

"Sleepmakers, " I repeated in horror at the very idea of such athing being attempted on a young girl like Violet Winslow. 

"Yes. The standard equipment of such a criminal consists of theselittle thin glass globes, a tiny glass hypodermic syringe with asharp steel point, doped cigars and cigarettes. They use variousderivatives of opium, like morphine and heroin, also codeine, dionin, narcein, ethyl chloride and bromide, nitrite of amyl, amylin, --and the skill that they have acquired in the manipulationof these powerful drugs stamps them as the most dangerous coterieof criminals in existence. Now, " he concluded, "doubt it or not, we have to deal with a man who is a proficient student of thesesleepmakers. Who is he, where is he, and when will he strike?"

Garrick was now pacing excitedly up and down the room. 

"You see, " he added, "the police of Europe by their new scientificmethods are driving such criminals out of the various countries. Thank heaven, I am now prepared to meet them if they come toAmerica. "

"Then you think this is a foreigner?" I asked meekly. 

"I didn't say so, " Garrick replied. "No. I think this is acriminal exceptionally wide awake, one who studies and adopts whathe sees whenever he wants it. If you recall, I warned you to havea wholesome respect for this man at the very start, when we werelooking at that empty cartridge. "

I could restrain my admiration of him no longer. "Guy, " Iexclaimed, heartily, astounded by what I had seen, "you--you are awonder!"

"No, " he laughed, "not wonderful, Tom, --only very ordinary. I'vehad a chance to learn some things abroad, fortunately. I've takenthe time to show you all this because I want you to appreciatewhat it is we are up against in this case of Violet Winslow. Youcan understand now why I was so particular about instructingWarrington not to let her go anywhere unattended by friends. There's nothing inherently impossible in these poisoned needlestories--given the right conjunction of circumstances. What wehave to guard against principally is letting her get into anysituation where the circumstances make such a thing possible. I'vealmost a notion to let the New York end of this case go altogetherfor a while and take a run up to Tuxedo to warn her and Mrs. DeLancey personally. Still, I think I put it strongly enough withWarrington so that--"

Our telephone tinkled insistently. 

"Hello, " answered Garrick. "Yes, this is Garrick. Who is this?Warrington? In Tuxedo? Why, my dear boy, you needn't have gonepersonally. Are you sure you're strong enough for such exertion?What--what's that? Warrington--it--it isn't--not to New York?"

Garrick's face was actually pale as he fairly started back fromthe telephone and caught my eye. 

"Tom, " he exclaimed huskily to me, "Violet Winslow left for NewYork on the early train this morning!"

I felt my heart skip a beat, then pound away like a sledge-hammerat my ribs as the terrible possibilities of the situation wereseared into my brain. 

"Yes, Warrington--a letter to her? Read it--quick, " I heardGarrick's tense voice repeating. "I see. Her maid Lucille wastaken very ill a few days ago and she allowed her to go to herbrother who lives on Ninth Street. I understand. Now--the letter. "

I could not hear what was said over the telephone, but laterGarrick repeated it to me and I afterwards saw the letter itselfwhich I may as well reproduce here. It said:

"Since I left you, mademoiselle, I am very ill here at the home ofmy brother. I have a nice room in the back of the house on thefirst floor and now that I am getting better I can sit up and lookout of the window. 

"I am very ill yet, but the worst is past and some time when youare in New York I wish I could see you. You have always been sogood to me, mademoiselle, that I hope I may soon be back again, ifyou have not a maid better than your poor Lucille. 

"Your faithful servant, "LUCILLE DE VEAU. "

"And she's already in the city?" asked Garrick of Warrington as hefinished reading the letter. "Mrs. De Lancey has gone with her--todo some shopping. I see. That will take all day, she said? She isgoing to call on Lucille--to-night--that's what she told her newmaid there? To-night? That's all right, my boy. I just wanted tobe sure. Don't worry. We'll look out for her here, all right. Now, Warrington, you just keep perfectly quiet. No relapses, you know, old fellow. We can take care of everything. I'm glad you told me. Good-bye. "

Garrick had finished up his conversation with Warrington in aconfident and reassuring tone, quite the opposite to that withwhich he had started and even more in contrast with the expressionon his face as he talked. 

"I didn't want to alarm the boy unnecessarily, " he explained tome, as he hung up the receiver. "I could tell that he was veryweak yet and that the trip up to Tuxedo had almost done him up. Itseems that she thought a good deal of Lucille--there's theaddress--99 Ninth. You can never tell about these maids, though. Lucille may be all right--or the other maid may be all bad, orvice versa. There's no telling. The worst of it is that she andher aunt are somewhere in the city, perhaps shopping. It onlyneeds that they become separated for something, anything, tohappen. There's been no time to warn her, either, and she's justas likely to visit that Lucille to-night alone as not. Gad--I'mglad I didn't fly off up there to Tuxedo, after all. She'll needsomeone here to protect her. "

Garrick was considering hastily what was to be done. Quickly hemapped out his course of action. 

"Come, Tom, " he said hurriedly to me, as he wrapped up a littlecedar box which he took from the cabinet where he kept theendormeur outfit. "Come--let's investigate that Ninth Streetaddress while we have time. "

CHAPTER XVII

THE NEWSPAPER FAKE

Within a few minutes we were sauntering with enforced leisurealong Ninth Street, in a rather sordid part, inhabited largely, Imade out, by a slightly better class of foreigners than some othersections of the West Side. 

As we walked along, I felt Garrick tugging at my arm. 

"Slow up a bit, " he whispered under his breath. "There's the housewhich was mentioned in the maid's note. "

It was an old three-story brownstone building with an entrance twoor three steps up from the sidewalk level. Once, no doubt, it hadhoused people of some means, but the change in the character ofthe neighbourhood with shifting population had evidently broughtit to the low estate where it now sheltered one family on eachfloor, if not more. At least that was the general impression onegot from a glance at the cheapened air of the block. 

Garrick passed the house so as not to attract any attention, and alittle further on paused before an apartment house, not of themodern elevator construction, but still of quiet and decentappearance. At least there were no children spilling out from itssteps into the street, in imminent danger of their young livesfrom every passing automobile, as there were in the tenements ofthe block below. 

He entered the front door which happened to be unlatched and wehad no trouble in mounting the stairs to the roof. 

What he intended doing I had no idea yet, but he went ahead withassurance and I followed, equally confident, for he must have hadadventures something like this before. On the roof, a clothesline, which he commandeered and tied about a chimney, served to let himdown the few feet from the higher apartment roof to that of thedwelling house next to it, one of the row in which number 99 wassituated. 

Quickly he tiptoed over to the chimney of the brownstone house afew doors down and, as he did so, I saw him take from his pocketthe cedar box. A string tied to a weight told him which of theflues reached down to the room on the first floor, back. 

That determined, he let the little cedar box fastened to anentwined pair of wires down the flue. He then ran the wires backacross the roof to the apartment, up, and into a little storm shedat the top of the last flight of stairs which led from the upperhall to the roof. 

"There is nothing more that we can do here just yet, " he remarkedafter he had hauled himself back to me on the higher roof. "We arelucky not to have been disturbed, but if we stay here we arelikely to be observed. "

Cautiously we retraced our steps and were again on the streetwithout having alarmed any of the tenants of the flat throughwhich we had gained access to the roofs. 

It was now the forenoon and, although Garrick instituted a searchin every place that he could think of where Mrs. De Laacey andViolet Winslow might go, including the homes of those of theirfriends whose names we could learn, it was without result. I don'tthink there can be many searches more hopeless than to try to findsomeone in New York when one has no idea where to look. Onlychance could possibly have thrown them in our way and chance didnot favour us. 

There was nothing to do but wait for the time when Miss Winslowmight, of her own accord, turn up to visit her former maid forwhom she apparently had a high regard. 

Inquiries as to the antecedents of Lucille De Veau were decidedlyunsatisfactory, not that they gave her a bad character, butbecause there simply seemed to be nothing that we could find out. The maid seemed to be absolutely unknown. Her brother was awaiter, though where he worked we could not find out, for heseemed to be one of those who are constantly shifting theirpositions. 

Garrick had notified Dillon of what he had discovered, in ageneral way, and had asked him to detail some men to conduct thesearch secretly for Miss Winslow and her aunt, but without anybetter results than we had obtained. Apparently the departmentstores had swallowed them up for the time being and we could onlywait impatiently, trusting that all would turn out right in theend. Still, I could not help having some forebodings in thematter. 

It was in the middle of the afternoon that we had gone downtown toGarrick's office, after stopping to secure the letter from thesafe in the uptown hotel where it had been deposited for securityduring the night and placing it in a safety deposit vault whereGarrick kept some of his own valuables. Garrick had selected hisoffice as a vantage point to which any news of Miss Winslow andher aunt might be sent by those whom we had out searching. No wordcame, however, and the hours of suspense seemed to draginterminably. 

"You're pretty well acquainted on the STAR?" Garrick asked me atlast, after we had been sitting in a sort of mournful silencewondering whether those on the other side might not be stealing amarch on us. 

"Why, yes, I know several people there, " I replied. "Why do youask?"

"I was just thinking of a possible plan of campaign that might bemapped out to bring these people from under cover, " he remarkedthoughtfully. "Do you think you could carry part of it through?"

I said I would try and Garrick proceeded to unfold a scheme whichhe had been revolving all day. It consisted of as ingenious a"plant" as I could well imagine. 

"You see, " he outlined, "if you could go over to the Star officeand get them to run off a few copies of the paper, after they arethrough with the regular editions, I believe we can get the Chiefstarted and then all we should have to do would be to follow himup--or someone who would lead us to him. "

The "plant, " in short, consisted in writing a long andcircumstantial story of the discovery of new evidence against theladies' poolroom, which so far had been scarcely mentioned in thecase. As Garrick laid it out, the story was to tell of a younggambler who was said to be in touch with the district attorney, inpreference to saying the police. 

In fact, his idea was to write up the whole gambling situation aswe knew it on lines that he suggested. Then a "fake" edition ofthe paper was to be run off, bearing our story on the front page. Only a few copies were to be printed, and they were to bedelivered to us. The thing had been done before by detectives, Iknew, and in this case Warrington was to foot the bill, whichmight prove to be considerable. 

At least it offered me some outlet for my energies during the restof the afternoon when the failure to receive any reports about thetwo women whom we were seeking began to wear on my nerves. 

It took some time to arrange the thing with those in authority onthe Star, but at last that was done and I hastened back to Garrickat his office to tell him that all that remained to do was theactual writing of the story. 

Garrick had just finished testing an arrangement in a large case, almost the size of a suitcase, and had stood it in a corner, readyto be picked up and carried off the instant there was any need forit. There was still no word of Miss Winslow and Mrs. De Lancey andit began to look as if we should not hear from them until VioletWinslow turned up on her visit to her former maid. 

Together we plunged into the preparation of the story, the writingof which fell to me while Garrick now and then threw in asuggestion or a word of criticism to make it sound stronger forhis purpose. Thus the rest of the afternoon passed in getting thething down "pat. "

I flatter myself that it was not such a bad piece of work when wegot through with it. By dint of using such expressions as "It issaid, " "It is rumoured, " "The report about the Criminal CourtsBuilding is, " "An informant high in the police department, " andcrediting much to a mythical "gambler who is operating quietlyuptown, " we managed to tell some amazing facts. 

The fake story began:

"Since the raid by the police on the luxurious gambling house inForty-eighth Street, a remarkable new phase of sporting life hasbeen unfolded to the District Attorney, who is quietly gatheringevidence against another place situated in the same district. 

"A former gambler who frequented the raided place has put manyincriminating facts about the second place in the hands of theauthorities who are contemplating an exposure that will stir evenNew York, accustomed as it is to such startling revelations. Itinvolves one of the cleverest and most astute criminals who everoperated in this city. 

"This place, which is under observation, is one which has broughttragedy to many. Young women attracted by the treacherous lure ofthe spinning roulette wheel or the fascination of the shuffle ofcards have squandered away their own and their husband's moneywith often tragic results, and many of them have gone even furtherinto the moral quagmire in the hope of earning enough money to paytheir losses and keep from their families the knowledge of theirgambling. 

"This situation, one of the high lights in the city of lights andshadows, has been evolved, according to the official informant, through the countless number of gambling resorts that have gainedexistence in the most fashionable parts of the city. 

"The record of crime of the clever and astute individual alreadymentioned is being minutely investigated, and, it is said, showssome of the most astounding facts. It runs even to murder, whichwas accomplished in getting rid of an informer recently in the payof the police. 

"Against those conducting the crusade every engine of theunderworld has been used. The fight has been carried on bitterly, and within less than twenty-four hours arrests are promised as aresult of confessions already in the hands of the authorities andbeing secretly and widely investigated by them before the finalblow is delivered simultaneously, both in the city and in a townup-state where the criminal believes himself unknown and secure. "

There was more of the stuff, which I do not quote, describing thesituation in detail and in general terms which could all have onlyone meaning to a person acquainted with the particular case withwhich we were dealing. It threw a scare, in type, as hard as couldbe done. I fancied that when it was read by the proper person hewould be amazed that so much had, apparently, become known to thenewspapers, and would begin to wonder how much more was known thatwas not printed. 

"That ought to make someone sit up and take notice, " remarkedGarrick with some satisfaction, as he corrected the typewrittencopy late in the afternoon. "The printing of that will take sometime and I don't suppose we shall get copies until pretty late. You can take it over to the Star, Tom, and complete thearrangements. I have a little more work to do before we go upthere on Ninth Street. Suppose you meet me at eight in WashingtonSquare, near the Arch?"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE VOCAPHONE

Promptly to the dot I met Garrick at the appointed place. Not aword so far had been heard, either from Violet Winslow or Mrs. DeLancey. There was one thing encouraging about it, however. If theyhad become separated while shopping, as sometimes happens, weshould have been likely to hear of it, at least from her aunt. 

Garrick was tugging the heavy suitcase which I had seen standingready down in his office during the afternoon, as well as a smallpackage wrapped up in paper. 

"Let me carry that suitcase, " I volunteered. 

We trudged along across the park, my load getting heavier at everystep. 

"I'm not surprised at your being winded, " I panted, soon findingmyself in the same condition. "What's in this--lead?"

"Something that we may need or may not, " Garrick answeredenigmatically, as we stopped in the shadow to rest. 

He carefully took an automatic revolver from an inside pocket andstowed it where it would be handy, in his coat. 

We resumed our walk and at last had come nearly up to the house onthe first floor of which the maid Lucille was. The suitcase wasengaging all my attention, as I shifted it from one hand to theother. Not so Garrick, however. He was looking keenly about us. 

"Gad, I must be seeing things to-night!" he exclaimed, his eyesfixed on a figure slouching along, his hat pulled down over hiseyes, passing just about opposite us on the other side of thestreet. I looked also in the gathering dusk. The figure hadsomething indefinably familiar about it, but a moment later it wasgone, having turned the corner. 

Garrick shook his head. "No, " he said half to himself, "itcouldn't have been. Don't stop, Tom. We mustn't do anything torouse suspicion, now. "

We came a moment later to the flat-house through the hall of whichwe had reached the roof that morning and in the excitement of theadventure I forgot, for the time, the mysterious figure across thestreet, which had attracted Garrick's attention. 

Again, we managed to elude the tenants, though it was harder inthe early evening than it had been in the daytime. However, wereached the roof apparently unobserved. There at least, now thatit was dark, we felt comparatively safe. No one was likely todisturb us there, provided we made no noise. 

Unwrapping the smaller, paper-covered package, Garrick quicklyattached the wires, as he had left them, to another cedar box, like that which he had already let down the chimney up the street. 

I now had a chance to examine it more closely under the light ofGarrick's little electric bull's-eye. I was surprised to find thatit resembled one of the instruments we had used down in the roomin the Old Tavern. 

It was oblong, with a sort of black disc fixed to the top. In theface of the box, just as in the other we had used, were two littlesquare holes, with sides also of cedar, converging inward, makinga pair of little quadrangular pyramidal holes which seemed to endin a small round black circle in the interior, small end. 

I said nothing, but I could see that it was a new form, to allintents and purposes, of the detectaphone which we had alreadyused. 

The minutes that followed seemed like hours, as we waited, notdaring to talk lest we should attract attention. 

I wondered whether Miss Winslow would come after all, or, if shedid, whether she would come alone. 

"You're early, " said a voice, softly, near us, of a sudden. 

I leaped to my feet, prepared to meet anything, man or devil. Garrick seized me and pulled me down, a strong hint to be quiet. Too surprised to remonstrate, since nothing happened, I waited, breathless. 

"Yes, but that is better than to be too late. Besides, we've gotto watch that Garrick, " said another voice. "He might be around. "

Garrick chuckled. 

I had noticed a peculiar metallic ring in the voices. 

"Where are they?" I whispered, "On the landing below?"

Garrick laughed outright, not boisterously, but still in a waywhich to me was amazing in its bravado, if the tenants were reallyso near. 

"What's this?" I asked. 

"Don't you recognize it?" he answered. 

"Yes, " I said doubtfully. "I suppose it's like that thing we useddown at the Old Tavern. "

"Only more so, " nodded Garrick, aloud, yet careful not to raisehis voice, as before, so as not to disturb the flat dwellers belowus. "A vocaphone. "

"A vocaphone?" I repeated. 

"Yes, the little box that hears and talks, " he explained. "It doesmore than the detectaphone. It talks right out, you know, and itworks both ways. "

I began to understand his scheme. 

"Those square holes in the face of it are just like the otherinstrument we used, " Garrick went on. "They act like littlemegaphones to that receiver inside, you know, --magnify the soundand throw it out so that we can listen up here just as well, perhaps better than if we were down there in the room with them. "

They were down there in the back room, Lucille and a man. 

"Have you heard from her?" asked the man's voice, one that I didnot recognise. 

"Non, --but she will come. Voila, but she thought the world of herLucille, she did. She will come. "

"How do you know?"

"Because--I know. "

"Oh, you women!"

"Oh, you men!"

It was evident that the two had a certain regard for each other, asort of wild, animal affection, above, below, beyond, without thelaw. They seemed at least to understand each other. 

Who the man was I could not guess. It was a voice that soundedfamiliar, yet I could not place it. 

"She will come to see her Lucille, " repeated the woman. "But youmust not be seen. "

"No--by no means. "

The voice of the man was not that of a foreigner. 

"Here, Lucille, take this. Only get her interested--I will do therest--and the money is yours. See--you crush it in thehandkerchief--so. Be careful--you WILL crush it before you want touse it. There. Under her nose, you know. I shall be there in amoment and finish the work. That is all you need do--with thehandkerchief. "

Garrick made a motion, as if to turn a switch in the littlevocaphone, and rested his finger on it. 

"I could make those two jump out of the window with fright andsurprise, " he said to me, still fingering the switch impatiently. "You see, it works the other way, too, as I told you, if I chooseto throw this switch. Suppose I should shout out, and they shouldhear, apparently coming from the fireplace, 'You are discovered. Thank you for telling me all your plans, but I am prepared forthem already. ' What do you suppose they would--"

Garrick stopped short. 

From the vocaphone had come a sound like the ringing of a bell. 

"Sh!" whispered Lucille hoarsely. "Here she comes now. Didn't Itell you? Into the next room!"

A moment later came a knock at a door and Lucille's silken rustleas she hurried to open it. 

"How do you do, Lucille?" we heard a sweetly tremulous voicerepeated by the faithful little vocaphone. 

"Comment vous portez-vous, Mademoiselle?"

"Tres bien. "

"Mademoiselle honours her poor Lucille beyond her dreams. Will younot be seated here in this easy chair?"

"My God!" exclaimed Garrick, starting back from the vocaphone. "She is there alone. Mrs. De Lancey is not with her. Oh, if wecould only have prevented this!"

I had recognized, too, even in the mechanical reproduction, thevoice of Violet Winslow. It came as a shock. Even though I hadbeen expecting some such thing for hours, still the reality meantjust as much, perhaps more. 

Independent, self-reliant, Violet Winslow had gone alone on an actof mercy and charity, and it had taken her into a situation fullof danger with her faithless maid. 

At once I was alive to the situation. All the stories ofkidnappings and white slavery that I had ever read rioted throughmy head. I felt like calling out a warning. Garrick had his fingeron the switch. 

"Since I have been ill, Mademoiselle, I have been doing someembroidery--handkerchiefs--are they not pretty?"

It was coming. There was not time for an instant's delay now. 

Garrick quickly depressed the switch. 

Clear as a bell his voice rang out. 

"Miss Winslow--this is Garrick. Don't let her get thathandkerchief under your nose. Out of the door--quick. Run! Callfor help! I shall be with you in a minute!"

A little cry came out of the machine. 

There was a moment of startled surprise in the room below. Thenfollowed a mocking laugh. 

"Ha! Ha! I thought you'd pull something like that, Garrick. Idon't know where you are, but it makes no difference. There aremany ways of getting out of this place and at one of them I hare ahigh-powered car. Violet--will go--quietly--" there were sounds ofa struggle--"after the needle--"

A scream had followed immediately after a sound of shivering glassthrough the vocaphone. It was not Violet Winslow's scream, either. 

"Like hell, she'll go, " shouted a wildly familiar voice. 

There was a gruff oath. 

We stayed to hear no more. Garrick had already picked up the heavysuitcase and was running down the steps two at a time, with myselfhard after him. 

Without waiting to ring the bell at 99, he dashed the suitcasethrough the plate glass of the front door, reached in and turnedthe lock. We hurried into the back room. 

Violet was lying across a divan and bending over her wasWarrington. 

"She--she's unconscious, " he gasped, weak with the exertion of hisforcible entrance into the place and carrying from the floor tothe divan the lovely burden which he had found in the room. "They--they fled--two of them--the maid, Lucille--and a man I could notsee. "

Down the street we heard a car dashing away to the sound of itschanging gears. 

"She's--not--dying--is she, Garrick?" he panted bending closerover her. 

Garrick bent over, too, felt the fluttering pulse, looked into herdilated eyes. 

I saw him drop quickly on his knees beside the unconscious girl. He tore open the heavy suitcase and a moment later he had takenfrom it a sort of cap, at the end of a rubber tube, and hadfastened it carefully over her beautiful, but now pale, face. 

"Pump!" Garrick muttered to me, quickly showing me what to do. 

I did, furiously. 

"Where did you come from?" he asked of Warrington. "I thought Isaw someone across the street who looked like you as we camealong, but you didn't recognise us and in a moment you were gone. Keep on with that pulmotor, Tom. Thank heaven I came prepared withit!"

Eagerly I continued to supply oxygen to the girl on the divanbefore us. 

Garrick had stooped down and picked up both the handkerchief withits crushed bits of the kelene tube and near it a shattered glasshypodermic. 

"Oh, I got thinking about things, up there at Mead's, " blurted outWarrington, "and I couldn't stand it. I should have gone crazy. While the doctor was out I managed to slip away and take a trainto the city. I knew this address from the letter. I determined tostay around all night, if necessary. She got in before I could getto her, but I rang the bell and managed to get my foot in the doora minute later. I heard the struggle. Where were you? I heard yourvoice in here but you came through the front door. "

Garrick did not take time to explain. He was too busy over VioletWinslow. 

A feeble moan and a flutter of the eyelids told that she wascoming out from the effects of the anaesthetic and the drug. 

"Mortimer--Mortimer!" she moaned, half conscious. "Don't let themtake me. Oh where is--"

Warrington leaned over, as Garrick removed the cap of thepulmotor, and gently raised her head on his arm. 

"It's all right--Violet, " he whispered, his face close to hers ashis warm breath fanned her now flushed and fevered cheek. 

She opened her eyes and vaguely understood as the mist clearedfrom her brain. 

Instinctively she clung to him as he pressed his lips lightly onher forehead, in a long passionate caress. 

"Get a cab, Tom, " said Garrick turning his back suddenly on themand placing his hand on my shoulder as he edged me toward thehall. "It's too late to pursue that fellow, now. He's slippedthrough our fingers again--confound him!"

CHAPTER XIX

THE EAVESDROPPER AGAIN

It took our combined efforts now to take care not only of VioletWinslow but Warrington himself, who was on the verge of collapseafter his heroic rescue of her. 

I found the cab and in perhaps half an hour Miss Winslow was sofar recovered that she could be taken to the hotel where she andher aunt had engaged rooms for the night. 

We drew up at an unfrequented side carriage entrance of the hotelin order to avoid the eyes of the curious and Warrington jumpedout to assist Violet. The strain had told on him and in spite ofhis desire to take care of her, he was glad to let Garrick guidehim to the elevator, while I took Miss Winslow's arm to assisther. 

Our first object had been to get our two invalids where they couldhave quiet and so regain their strength and we rode up in theelevator, unannounced, to the suite of Violet and her aunt. 

"For heaven's sake--Violet--what's all this?" exclaimed Mrs. DeLancey as we four entered the room. 

It was the first time we had seen the redoubtable Aunt Emma. Shewas a large woman, well past middle age, and must have beenhandsome, rather than pretty, when she was younger. Everythingabout Mrs. De Lancey was correct, absolutely correct. Her dresslooked like a form into which she had been poured, every line andcurve being just as it should be, having "set" as if she had beenmade of reinforced concrete. In short, she was a woman of "force. "

An incursion such as we made seemed to pain her correct soulacutely. And yet, I fancied that underneath the marble exteriorthere was a heart and that secretly she was both proud and jealousof her dainty niece. 

Violet sank into a chair and Garrick deposited Warrington, thoroughly exhausted, on a couch. 

Mrs. De Lancey looked sternly at Warrington, as though in some wayhe might be responsible. I could not help feeling that she had apeculiar sense of conscientiousness about him, that she was just abit more strict in gauging him than she would have been if he hadnot been the wealthy young Mr. Warrington whom scores and hundredsof mothers and guardians in society would have welcomed for thesake of marriageable daughters no matter how black and glaring hisfaults. I was glad to see the way Warrington took it. He seemed towant to rest not on the merits of the Warrington blood nor theWarrington gold, but on plain Mortimer Warrington himself. 

"What HAS happened, Violet?" repeated Mrs. De Lancey. 

Violet had, woman-like, in spite of her condition caught the sternlook that her aunt had shot at Warrington. 

"Nothing, now, " she replied with a note of defiance. "Lucille--seems to have been a--a bad woman--friendly with bad men. Mr. Garrick overheard a plot to carry me off and telephoned Mortimer. Fortunately when Mortimer went up home to warn us, he found theletter and knew where I was going to-night. Ill as he was, he cameall the way to the city, followed me into that house, saved me--even before Mr. Garrick could get there. "

Violet's duenna was considerably mollified, though she tried hardnot to admit it. Garrick seized the opportunity and poured forth abrief but connected story of what had happened. 

"Well, " exclaimed Mrs. De Lancey as he finished, "you childrenought to be very thankful it isn't worse. Violet, I think I'llcall up the house physician. You certainly need a doctor. And asfor you, Mortimer, --you can't go to your apartment. Violet tellsme it is all burned out. There's an empty suite across the hall. I'll telephone the room clerk and engage it for you. And you needa doctor, too. Now--there's going to be no more foolishness. You're both going to stay right here in this hotel until you'reall right. Your mother and I were great friends, Mortimer, when wewere girls. I--you must let me PLAY mother--for her sake. "

I had been right about Mrs. De Lancey. Her voice softened and Isaw a catch in Warrington's throat, too, at the mention of themother he remembered only hazily as a small boy. 

Violet and Warrington exchanged glances. I fancied the wirelesssaid, "We've won the old lady over, at last, " for Warringtoncontinued to look at her, while she blushed a bit, then droppedher eyes to hide a happy tear. 

Mrs. De Lancey was bustling about and I felt sure that in anotherminute every available bellhop in the hotel would be at work. AsWarrington might have said in his slang, "Action is her middlename. "

Garrick rose and bade our two patients a hasty good-night, tactfully forgetting to be offended by their lack of interest nowin anything except each other. 

"I doubt if they get much chance to be alone--not with that womanmothering them, " he smiled to me, drawing me toward the door. "Don't let's spoil this chance. "

Mrs. De Lancey was busy in the next room, as we stopped to saygood-bye to her. 

"I--I can't talk to you--now, Mr. Garrick, " she cried, with asudden, unwonted show of emotion, taking both his hands in hers. "You--you've saved my girl--there--there's nothing in this worldyou could have done for me--greater. "

"Mrs. De Lancey, " replied Garrick, deftly changing the subject, "there's just one thing. I'm afraid you are--have been, I mean, --alittle hard on Mr. Warrington. He isn't what you think--"

"Mr. Garrick, " she returned, in a sudden burst of confidence, "I'mafraid you, too, misunderstand me. I am not hard on the boy. But, remember. I knew his mother and father--intimately. Think of it, sir--the responsibilities that rest on that young man. Do youwonder that I--I want him better than others? Don't you see--thatis why I want to hold him up to the highest standard. If Violet--marries him, " she seemed to choke over the word, --"they must meettests that ordinary people never know. Don't you understand? I'veseen other young men and other young women in our circle--theywere our babies once--I've seen them--go down. But I--I am proud. The Winslows, yes, and the Warringtons, they, --they SHAN'T godown--not while I have an ounce of strength or a grain of sanity. Nothing--nothing but the best that is in us--counts. "

I think Mrs. De Lancey and Garrick understood each other perfectlyafter that. He said nothing, in fact did not need to say anything, for he looked it. 

"I feel that I can safely resign my job as guardian, " was all heremarked, finally. "Neither of them could be in better hands. Only, keep that boy quiet a few days. You can do it better than Ican--you and Miss Winslow. Trust me to do the rest. "

A moment later we were passing out through the hotel lobby, asGarrick glanced at his watch. 

"A wonderful woman, after all, " he mused, in the manner of one whorevises an estimate formed hastily on someone else's hearsay. "Well, it's too late to do anything more to-night. I suppose thosepapers are printed down at the Star. We'll stop and get them inthe morning. Did you recognise the voice over the vocaphone?"

"I can't say I did, " I confessed. 

"Perhaps you aren't used to it and things sound too metallic toyou. But I did. It was the Chief. "

"I suspected as much, " I replied. "Where do you suppose he went?"

Garrick shrugged his shoulders. 

"I doubt whether we could find him in New York to-night, " heanswered, slowly. "I think he must feel by this time that the townis getting too hot for him. "

There was nothing that I could say, and I played the partadmirably. 

"Come, " he decided, as he turned from the hotel in the direction, now, of our apartment. "Let's snatch a little rest. We'll need itto-morrow for the final spurt. "

Tired and exhausted though I was I cannot say that I slept. Atleast, it may have been physical rest that I got. Certainly mymind never stopped in its dream play, as the kaleidoscopic streamof events passed before me, now in their true form, now in thefantastic shapes that constitute one of the most interestingstudies of the modern psychology. 

I was glad when I heard Garrick stirring in his room in the earlydaylight and heard him call out, "Are you awake, Tom? There aresome things I want to attend to, while you drop into the Star forthose papers. I'm afraid you'll have to breakfast alone. Meet meat my office as soon as you can. "

He was off a few minutes later, as fresh as though he had been ona vacation instead of plunged into the fight of his life. Ifollowed him, more leisurely, and then rode down in the infernaljam in the subway to execute his commission. 

Then for an hour or two I fidgeted impatiently in his officewaiting for him, until finally he came downtown in the racing carwhich Warrington had placed at his disposal. 

He said nothing, but it was all the same to me. I had reached thatnervous state where I craved something doing, as a drug-fiendcraves the dope that sets his brain on fire again. 

I did not ask where he was going, for I knew it intuitively, andit was not long before we were again in the part of the city wherethe gangster's garage was located. 

We stopped and Garrick beckoned to an urchin, a couple of blocksbelow the garage. 

"Do you want to make a dollar, kid?" he asked, jingling fourquarters enticingly. 

The boy's eyes never left the fist that held the tempting bait. "Betcherlife, " he answered. 

"Well, then, " instructed Garrick, "take these newspapers. I don'twant you to sell any of them on the street. But when you come tothat garage over there--see it?--I want you to yell, 'Extra--special extra! All about the great gambling exposure. Warrantsout!' Just go in there. They'll buy, all right. And if you say aword about anyone giving you these papers to sell--I'll chase youand get back this dollar to the last cent. You'll go to the GerrySociety--get me?"

The boy did. The bait was as alluring as the threat terrible. After Garrick had given him final instructions not to start withthe papers for at least five minutes, we slipped quietly aroundthe next street and came out near the Old Tavern, but not in frontof it. 

Garrick left the car--I had been riding almost on the mud guard--in charge of Warrington's man, who was to appear to be tinkeringwith the engine as an excuse for waiting there, and to keep an eyeon anything that happened down the street. 

We made our way into our room at the Tavern with more thanordinary caution, for fear that something might have beendiscovered. Apparently, however, the discovery of one detectaphonehad been enough to disarm further suspicion, and the garage keeperhad not thought it necessary to examine the telephone wires to seewhether they had been tampered with in any way. The wire which hehad thought led to the warehouse had seemed quite sufficient toexplain everything. 

In the room which we had used so much, we found the otherdetectaphone working splendidly. Garrick picked it up. 

By the sound, evidently, someone in the garage was overhauling acar. It may have been that they were fixing one up so that itsrightful owner would never recognize it, or they may have beengetting ready to take one out. There was no way of determining. 

We could hear one of the workmen helping about the car, a man whomwe had listened to when the instrument first introduced us to theplace. The second machine, connected with the telephone, did nottransmit quite as clearly as the broken detective device had done, but it served and, besides, we could both hear through this andcould confirm anything that might be indistinct to either of usalone. 

"The Chief has gone up-state, " remarked Garrick, piecing togetherthe conversation where we had broken into it. 

"We had to hustle to make that boat, " remarked a voice which Irecognised as that of one of the men. 

"But she got off all right, didn't she?"

"Sure--he had the tickets and everything, and her baggage hadalready gone aboard. "

"That's Lucille, I suppose, " supplied Garrick. "No doubt part ofher bribe for getting Miss Winslow into their power was freepassage back to France. We can't stop to take up her case, yet. "

"My--but the Chief was mad, " continued the voice of the man whomust have been not only a machinist but a chauffeur when occasiondemanded. "He had a package of letters. I don't know what theywere--looked as if they might be from some woman. "

"What did he do with them?" asked the Boss in a tone that showedthat he knew something, at least, about them already. 

"Why, he was so mad after that fellow Garrick and the other fellowbeat him out, that when we went down along West Street to the boatwith that other woman, he tore them up and threw them in theriver. "

"Did he say anything?"

"Why, I tell you he was mad. He tore 'em up and threw them in theriver. I think he said there wasn't a damn thing in 'em except alot of mush, anyhow. "

An amused smile crossed Garrick's face as he added, parenthetically, "Good-bye to Warrington's love letters that theytook from his safe. "

"At least there has been nothing they managed to get that night ofthe fire that they have been able to use against Warrington, " Iremarked, with satisfaction. 

"Listen, " cautioned Garrick. "What's that they are saying? Someonehas told the Boss--he's talking--that they can go over Dillon'shead and get back all the gambling paraphernalia? Well, I've beenthere, at the raided place, to-day, and it doesn't look so. Thestuff has all been taken down to headquarters. Ah, so that is thegame that is in the wind, is it? Get it all back by a court orderand open somewhere else. Here's our boy. "

The improvised newsboy had apparently stuck his head in the dooras he had been instructed, for we could hear them greet him with agrowl, until he yelled lustily, "Extry, special extry! All aboutthe big gambling exposure! Warrants out! Extry!"

"Hey, you kid, " came a voice from the detectaphone, "let's seethat paper. What is it--the Star? Well, I'll be--! Read that. Someone's snitched to the district attorney, I'll bet. That'llmake the Chief sore, all right--and he's 'way up in the country, too. I don't dare wire it to him. No, someone'll have to take acopy of this paper up there to him and tip him off. He'll beredheaded if he doesn't know about it. He was the last timeanything happened. Hurry up. Finish with this car. I'll take itmyself. "

Garrick laughed, almost gleefully. 

"The plant has begun to work, " he cried. "We'll wait here untiljust before he's ready to start. Three of us around our car on thestreet are too many. He must be getting ready for a long run. "

"How much gas is there in this tank?" the gruff voice of the Bossdemanded. "You dummy--not two gallons! No, you finish what you'redoing. I'll fill it myself. There isn't any time for fooling now. "

There was the steady trickle of the stream of gasoline as he drewit. 

"Any extra tires? What! Not a new shoe in the place? Give me acouple of the best of those old ones. Never mind. Here are twoover by the telephone. Say, what the devil is this wire back here--cut in on the telephone wire? Well, --rip it out! That's some moreof that fellow Garrick's work. We got rid of one thing the othernight. Well, thank heaven, I didn't have any telephone calls to-day. While I'm gone, you go over this place thoroughly. God knowshow many other things he may have put in here. "

"Confound it!" muttered Garrick, as a pair of pliers made oursecond detectaphone die with an expiring gasp in the middle of asentence of profanity. 

"Come on, Tom, " he shouted. 

There was no use now in remaining any longer in the room. Gathering up the receiving apparatus, Garrick quickly carried itdown and tossed it into the waiting car around the corner. Then hesent Warrington's man to hang around, up the street, and watchwhat was going on at the garage. 

Garrick was to drive the car himself, and we were going to leaveWarrington's man behind. We could tell by the actions of the manas he stood down the street that something was taking place at thegarage. 

We could hear a horn blow, and I knew that the doors had openedand a big car had been backed out, slowly. Our own engine wasrunning perfectly in spite of the seeming trouble with which wehad covered up our delay. Garrick jumped in at the wheel, and Ifollowed. The man on the corner was signalling that the car wasgoing in the opposite direction. We leaped ahead. 

As the big car ahead slipped along eastward, we followed at such adistance as not to attract attention. It was easy enough to dothat, but not so easy to avoid getting tied up among the trucksladen with foodstuffs of every description which blocked thestreets over in this part of town. 

Where the car ahead was bound, we did not know, but I could seethat the driver was a stocky fellow, who slouched down into hisseat, and handled his car almost as if it had been a mere toy. Itwas, I felt positive, the man whom McBirney had reported one nightabout the neighbourhood of Longacre Square in the car which hadonce been Warrington's. This, at least, was a different car, Iknew. Now I realised the wisdom of allowing this man, whom theycalled the Boss, to go free. Under the influence of Garrick's"plant, " he was to lead us to the right trail to the Chief. 

It was easier now to follow the car since it had worked its wayinto lower Fifth Avenue. On uptown it went. We hung on doggedly inthe mass of traffic going north at this congested hour. 

At last it turned into Forty-seventh Street. It was stopping atthe ladies' gambling joint, apparently to confirm the news. I hadthought that the place was closed, until the present trouble blewover, but it seemed that there must be someone there. The Boss wasevidently well known, for he was immediately admitted. 

Garrick did not stop. He kept on around the corner to the raidedpoolroom on the next street. Dillon's man, who had been stationedthere to watch the place, bowed and admitted him. 

"I'm going to throw it into him good, this time, " remarkedGarrick, as he entered. "I've been planning this stunt for anemergency--and it's here. Now for the big scare!"

CHAPTER XX

THE SPEAKING ARC

"Looks pretty deserted here, " remarked Garrick to Dillon's man, who had accompanied us from the door into the now desertedgambling den. 

"Yes, " he grinned, "there's not much use in keeping me here sincethey took all the stuff to headquarters. Now and then one of theold rounders who has been out of town and hasn't heard of the raidcomes in. You should see their faces change when they catch sightof my uniform. They never stop to ask questions, " he chuckled. "They just beat it. "

I was wondering how the police regarded Garrick's part in thematter, and while Garrick was busy I asked, "Have you seenInspector Herman lately?"

The man laughed. 

"What's the matter?" I asked, "Is he sore at having the raidpulled off over his head?"

"Sore?" the roundsman repeated, "Oh, not a bit, not a bit. Heenjoyed it. It gave him so much credit, " the man addedsarcastically, "especially after he fell down in getting theevidence against that other place around the corner. "

"Was that his case, too?" I asked. 

"Sure, " replied the policeman. "Didn't you know that? That RenaTaylor was working under his orders when she was killed. They tellme at headquarters he's working overtime on the case and otherthings connected with it. He hasn't said much, but there's someonehe is after--I know. Mark my words. Herman is always mostdangerous when he's quiet. The other day he was in here, saidthere was a man who used to be seen here a good deal in the palmydays, who had disappeared. I don't know who he was, but Hermanasked me to keep a particular lookout to see if he came back forany purpose. There's someone he suspects, all right. "

I wondered why the man told me. He must have seen, by the look onmy face, that I was thinking that. 

"I wouldn't tell it to everybody, " he added confidentially, "only, most of us don't like Herman any too well. He's always trying tohog it all--gets all the credit if we pick up a clew, and, --well, most of us wouldn't be exactly disappointed to see Mr. Garricksucceed--that's all. "

Garrick was calling from the back room to me, and I excusedmyself, while the man went back to his post at the front door. Garrick carefully closed the door into the room. 

While I had been busy getting the copies of the faked edition ofthe Star, which had so alarmed the owner of the garage and had setthings moving rapidly, Garrick had also been busy, in anotherdirection. He had explored not only the raided gambling den, butthe little back yard which ran all the way to an extension on therear of the house in the next street, in which was situated thewoman's poolroom. 

He had explored, also, the caved-in tunnel enough to makeabsolutely certain that his suspicions had been correct in thefirst place, and that it ran to this other joint, from which thegamblers had made their escape. That had satisfied him, however, and he had not unearthed the remains of the tunnel or taken anyaction in the matter yet. Something else appeared to interest himmuch more at the present moment. 

"I found, " he said when he was sure that we were alone, "that thefeed wire of the arc light that burns all the time in that mainroom over there in the place on Forty-seventh Street--you recallit?--runs in through the back of the house. "

He was examining two wires which, from his manner, I inferred wereattached to this feed wire, leading to it from the room in whichwe now were. What the purpose of the connection was I had no idea. Perhaps, I thought, it was designed to get new evidence againstthe place, though I could not guess how it was to be done. So far, except for what we had seen on our one visit, there had appearedto be no real evidence against the place, except, possibly, thatwhich had died with the unfortunate Rena Taylor. 

"What's that?" I asked, as Garrick produced a package from acloset where he had left it, earlier in the day. 

I saw, after he had unwrapped it, that it was a very powerfulmicrophone and a couple of storage cells. He attached it to thewire leading out to the electric light feed wire. 

"I had provided it to be used in an emergency, " he replied. "Ithink the time has come sooner than I anticipated. "

I watched him curiously, wondering what it would be that wouldcome next. 

There followed a most amazing series of groanings and mutteringsfrom Garrick. I could not imagine what he was up to. The wholeproceeding seemed so insane that, for the moment, it left menonplussed and speechless. 

Garrick caught the puzzled look on my face. 

"What's the matter?" he laughed heartily, cutting out themicrophone momentarily and seeming to enjoy the joke to theutmost. 

"Would you prefer to be sent to a State or a private institution?"I rasped, testily. "What insanity is all this? It sounds like thefee-faw-fum and mummery of a voodoo man. "

"Come, now, Tom, " he rejoined, argumentatively. "You know as wellas I do what sort of people those gamblers are--superstitious asthe deuce. I did this once before to-day. This is a good time todo it again, before they persuade themselves that there is nothingin that story which we printed in the Star. That fellow is inthere now, probably in that room where we were, and it is possiblethat they may reassure him and settle his fears. Now, just supposea murder had been committed in a room, and you knew it, and heardgroanings and mutterings--from nowhere, just in the air, aboutyou, overhead--what would you do, if you were inclined to besuperstitious?"

Before I could answer, he had resumed the antics which before Ihad found so inexplicable. 

"Cut out and run, I suppose, " I replied. "But what has that to dowith the case? The groanings are here--not there. You haven't beenable to get in over there to attach anything, have you? What doyou mean?"

"No, " he admitted, "but did you ever hear what you could do with amicrophone, a rheostat, and a small transformer coil if youattached them properly to a direct-current electric lightingcircuit? No? Well, an amateur with a little knowledge ofelectricity could do it. The thing is easily constructed, and theresult is a most complicated matter. "

"Well?" I queried, endeavouring to follow him. 

"The electric arc, " he continued, "isn't always just a silentelectric light. You know that. You've heard them make noises. Under the right conditions such a light can be made to talk--the'speaking arc, ' as Professor Duddell calls it. In other words, anarc light can be made to act as a telephone receiver. "

I could hardly believe the thing possible, but Garrick went onexplaining. 

"You might call it the arcophone, I suppose. The scientific factof the matter is that the arc is sensitive to very smallvariations of the current. These variations may run over a widerange of frequency. That suggested to Duddell that a direct-current arc might be used as a telephone receiver. All that youneed is to add a microphone current to the main arc current. Thearc reproduces sounds and speech distinctly, loud enough, even, tobe heard several feet away from the light. "

He had cut out the microphone again while he was talking to me. Heswitched it in again with the words, "Now, get ready, Tom. Justone more; then we must hurry around in that car of ours and watchthe fun. "

This time he was talking into the microphone. In a most solemn, sepulchral voice he repeated, "Let the slayer of Rena Taylorbeware. She will be avenged! Beware! It will be a life for alife!"

Three times he repeated it, to make sure that it would carry. Then, grabbing up his hat and coat, he dashed out of the room, past the surprised policeman at the door, and took the steps infront of the house almost at a bound. 

We hardly had time to enter our own car and reach the corner ofForty-seventh Street, when the big black automobile which we hadfollowed uptown shot by almost before the traffic man at thecrossing could signal a clear road. 

"We must hang onto him!" cried Garrick, turning to follow. "Didyou catch a glimpse of his face? It's our man, the go-between, thekeeper of the garage whom they call the Boss. He was as pale as ifhe had seen a ghost. I guess he did think he heard one. Betweenthe news-paper fake and the speaking arc, I think we've got himgoing. There he is. "

It was an exciting ride, for the man ahead was almost reckless, though he seemed to know instinctively still just when to put onbursts of speed and when to slow down to escape being arrested forspeeding. We hung on, managing to keep something less than acouple of blocks behind him. It was evident that he was making forthe ferry uptown across the river to New Jersey, and, takingadvantage of this knowledge, Garrick was able to drop back alittle, and approach the ferry by going down a different street sothat there was no hint yet that we were following him. 

By judicious jockeying we succeeded in getting on the boat on theopposite side from the car we were following, and in such a waythat we could get off as soon as he could. We managed to cross theferry, and, in the general scramble that attends the landing, tonegotiate the hill on the other side of the river withoutattracting the attention of the man in the other car. His one ideaseemed to be speed, and he had no suspicion, apparently, that inhis flight he was being followed. 

As we bowled along, forced by circumstances to take the fellow'sdust, Garrick would quietly chuckle now and then to himself. 

"Fancy what he must have thought, " he chortled. "First thenewspaper that sent him scurrying up to the gambling place formore news, or to spread the alarm, and then, while they weresitting about, perhaps while someone was talking about the strangevoices they had already heard this morning, suddenly the voicefrom nowhere. Can you blame them if they thought it was a warningfrom the grave?"

Whatever actually had happened in the gambling house, thepractical effect was all that even Garrick could have desired. Hour after hour, we hung to that car ahead, leaving behind thecities, and passing along the regular road through town aftertown. 

Sometimes the road was well oiled, and we would have to drop backa bit to escape too close observation. Then we would strike astretch where it was dry. The clouds of dust served to hide us. Onwe went until it was apparent that the man was now headed at leastin the direction of Tuxedo. 

We now passed the boundary between New York state and New Jerseyand soon after that came to the house of Dr. Mead where Warringtonhad been convalescing until Garrick's warning had brought him, still half ill, down to the city to protect Violet Winslow. Infact, the road seemed replete with interesting reminiscences ofthe case, for a few miles back was the spot where Rena Taylor'sbody had been found, as well as the garage whence had come therumour of the blood-stained car. There was no chance to stop andtell the surprised Dr. Mead just what had become of his patientand we had to trust that Warrington would explain his suddendisappearance himself. In fact, Garrick scarcely looked to eitherthe right or left, so intent was he on not missing for an instantthe car that was leading us in this long chase. 

On we sped, around the bend where Warrington had been held up. Itwas a nasty curve, even in the daytime. 

"I think this fellow ahead noticed the place, " gritted Garrick, leaning forward. "He seemed to slow up a bit as he turned. I hopehe didn't notice us as he turned his head back slightly. "

It made no difference, if he did, for, the curve passed, he wasevidently feeding the gas faster than ever. We turned the curvealso, the forward car something more than a quarter of a mileahead of us. 

"We must take a chance and close up on him, " said Garrick, as he, too, accelerated his speed, not a difficult thing to do with thealmost perfect racer of Warrington's. "He may turn off at acrossroad at any time, now. "

Still our man kept on, bowling northward along the fine state roadthat led to one of the richest parts of the country. 

He came to the attractive entrance to Tuxedo Park. Almost, I hadexpected him to turn in. At least I should not have been surprisedif he had done so. 

However, he kept on northward, past the entrance to the Park. Wehung doggedly on. 

Where was he going? I wondered whether Garrick might have beenwrong, after all. Half a mile lengthened into a mile. Still he wasspeeding on. 

But Garrick had guessed right. Sure enough, at a cross road, theother car slowed down, then quickly swung around, off the mainroad. 

"What are you going to do?" I asked Garrick quickly. "If we turnalso, that will be too raw. Surely he'll notice that. "

"Going to stop, " cried Garrick, taking in the situation instantly. "Come on, Tom, jump out. We'll fake a little tire trouble, in casehe should look around and see us stopping here. I'll keep theengine running. "

We went back and stood ostentatiously by the rear wheel. Garrickbent over it, keeping his eye fixed on the other car, now perhapshalf a mile along on the narrow crossroad. 

It neared the top of a hill on the other side of the valley acrosswhich the road wound like a thin brown line, then dipped down overthe crest and was lost on the other side. 

Garrick leaped back into our car and I followed. He turned thebend almost on two wheels, and let her out as we swept down ashort hill and then took the gentle incline on high speed, eatingup the distance as though it had been inches instead of nearly amile. 

A short distance from the top of the hill, Garrick applied thebrake, just in time so that the top of our car would not bevisible to one who had passed on down the next incline into thevalley beyond. 

"Let us walk up the rest of the way, " he said quickly, "and seewhat is on the other side of this hill. "

We did so cautiously. Far down below us we could see the car whichwe had been trailing all the way up from the city, threading itsway along the country road. We watched it, and as we did so, itslowed up and turned out, running up a sort of lane that led towhat looked like a trim little country estate. 

The car had stopped at an unpretentious house at the end of thelane. The driver got out and walked up to the back door, whichseemed to be stealthily opened to admit him. 

"Good!" exclaimed Garrick. "At last we are on a hot trail!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE SIEGE OF THE BANDITS

As we watched from the top of the hill, I wondered what Garrick'snext move was to be. Surely he would not attempt to investigatethe place yet. In fact, there seemed to be nothing that could bedone now, as long as it was day-light, for any movement in thishalf-open country would have been viewed with suspicion by theoccupants of the little house in the valley, whoever they mightbe. 

We could not help viewing the place with a sort of awe. Whatsecrets did the cottage hide, nestled down there in the valleyamong these green hills? Often I had heard that the gunmen of NewYork, when hard pressed, sought refuge in the country districtsand mountains within a few miles of the city. There was somethingincongruous about it. Nature seemed so perfectly peaceful herethat it was the very antithesis of those sections of the city inwhich he had found the gunman, whoever he was, indulging inpractically every crime and vice of decadent civilization. 

"So--the one they call the Boss has led up to the refuge of theChief, the scientific gunman, at last, " Garrick exclaimed, withmarked satisfaction, as we turned and walked slowly back again toour car. 

"Yes, " I assented, "and now that we have found them--what are weto do with them?"

"It is still early in the day, " Garrick remarked, looking at hiswatch. "They suspect no trouble up here. Here they evidently feelsafe. No doubt they think we are still hunting for themfruitlessly in New York. I think we can afford to leave them herefor a few hours. At any rate, I feel that I must return to thecity. I must see Dillon, and then drop into my office, if we areto accomplish anything against them. "

He had turned the car around and we made our way back to the mainroad, and then southward again, taking up in earnest the longreturn trip to the city and covering the distance in Warrington'sracer in a much shorter time, now that we had not to followanother car and keep under cover. It was late in the afternoon, however, when we arrived and Garrick went directly to policeheadquarters where he held a hasty conference with Dillon. 

Dillon was even more excited than we were when he learned how farwe had gone in tracing out the scant clews that we had uncovered. As Garrick unfolded his plan, the commissioner immediately beganto make arrangements to accompany us out into the country thatnight. 

I did not hear all that was said, as Garrick and Dillon laid outtheir plans, but I could see that they were in perfect accord. 

"Very well, " I overheard Garrick, as we parted. "I shall go out inthe car again. You will be up on the train?"

"Yes--on the seven-fifty, " returned Dillon. "You needn't worryabout my end of it. I'll be there with the goods--just the thingthat you want. I have it. "

"Fine, " exclaimed Garrick, "I have to make a call at the office. I'll start as soon as I can, and try to beat you out. "

They parted in good humour, for Dillon's passion for adventure wasnow thoroughly aroused and I doubt if we could have driven him offwith a club, figuratively speaking. 

At the office Garrick tarried only long enough to load the carwith some paraphernalia which he had there, much of which, I knew, he had brought back with him after his study of police methodsabroad. There were three coats of a peculiar texture, which hetook from a wardrobe, a huge arrangement which looked like areflector, a little thing that looked merely like the mouthpieceof a telephone transmitter, and a large heavy package which mighthave been anything from a field gun to a battering ram. 

It was twilight when we arrived at the nearest railroad station tothe little cottage in the valley, after another run up into thecountry in the car. Dillon who had come up by train to meet us, according to the arrangement with Garrick, was already waiting, and with him was one of the most trustworthy and experienced ofthe police department chauffeurs. Garrick looked about at the fewloungers curiously, but there did not seem to be any of them whotook any suspicious interest in new arrivals. 

We four managed to crowd into a car built only for two, andGarrick started off. A few minutes later we arrived at the top ofthe hill from which we had already viewed the mysterious houseearlier in the day. It was now quite dark. We had met no one sinceturning off into the crossroad, and could hear no sound except thecontinuous music of the night insects. 

Just before crossing the brow of the last hill, we halted andGarrick turned out all the lights on the car. He was riskingnothing that might lead to discovery yet. With the engine muffleddown, we coasted slowly down the other side of the hill into theshadowy valley. There was no moon yet and we had to movecautiously, for there was only the faint light of the sky andstars to guide us. 

What was the secret of that unpretentious little house below us?We peered out in the gathering blackness eagerly in the directionwhere we knew it must be, nestled among the trees. Whoever itsheltered was still there, and we could locate the place by asingle gleam that came from an upper window. Whether there werelights below, we could not tell. If there were they must have beeneffectively concealed by blinds and shades. 

"We'll stop here, " announced Garrick at last when we had reached apoint on the road a few hundred yards from the house. 

He ran the car carefully off the road and into a little clearingin a clump of dark trees. We got out and pushed stealthily forwardthrough the underbrush to the edge of the woods. There, on theslope, just a little way below us, stood the house of mystery. 

Garrick and Dillon were busily conferring in an undertone, as Ihelped them bring the packages one after another from the car tothe edge of the woods. Garrick had slipped the little telephonemouthpiece into his pocket, and was carrying the huge reflectorcarefully, so that it might not be injured in the darkness. I hadthe heavy coats of the peculiar texture over my arm, while Dillonand his man struggled along over the uncertain pathway, carryingbetween them the heavy, long, cylindrical package, which must haveweighed some sixty pounds or so. 

Garrick had selected as the site of our operations a corner of thegrove where a very large tree raised itself as a landmark, silhouetted in black against a dark sky. We deposited the stuffthere as he directed. 

"Now, Jim, " ordered Dillon, walking back to the car with his man, "I want you to take the car and go back along this road until youreach the top of the hill. "

I could not hear the rest of the order, but it seemed that he wasto meet someone who had preceded us on foot from the railwaystation and who must be about due to arrive. I did not know who orwhat it might be, but even the thought of someone else made mefeel safer, for in so ticklish a piece of business as this, indealing with at least a pair of desperate men such as we knew themto be in the ominously quiet little house, a second and even athird line of re-enforcements was not, I felt, amiss. 

Garrick in the meantime had set to work putting into position thehuge reflector. At first I thought it might be some method ofthrowing a powerful light on the house. But on closer examinationI saw that it could not be a light. The reflector seemed to havebeen constructed so that in the focus was a peculiar coil ofsomething, and to the ends of this coil, Garrick attached twowires which he fastened to an instrument, cylindrical, with abroadened end, like a telephone receiver. 

Dillon, who had returned by this time, after sending his chauffeurback on his errand, appeared very much interested in what Garrickwas doing. 

"Now, Tom, " said Garrick, "while I am fixing this thing, I wishyou would help me by undoing that large package carefully. "

While I was thus engaged, he continued talking with Dillon in alow voice, evidently explaining to him the use to which he wishedthe large reflector put. 

I was working quickly to undo the large package, and as thewrappings finally came off, I could see that it was some bulkyinstrument that looked like a huge gun, or almost a mortar. It hada sort of barrel that might have been, say, forty inches inlength, and where the breechlock should have been on an ordinarygun was a great hemispherical cavity. There was also a peculiararrangement of springs and wheels in the butt. 

"The coats?" he asked, as he took from the wrappings of thepackage several rather fragile looking tubes. 

I had laid them down near us and handed them over to him. Theywere quite heavy, and had a rough feel. 

"So-called bullet-proof cloth, " explained Garrick. "At closerange, quite powerful lunges of a dagger or knife recoil from it, and at a distance ordinary bullets rebound from it, flattened. We'll try it, anyway. It will do no harm, and it may do good. Nowwe are ready, Dillon. "

"Wait just a minute, " cautioned Dillon. "Let me see first whetherthat chauffeur has returned. He can run that engine so quietlythat I myself can't hear it. "

He had disappeared into the darkness toward the road, where he haddespatched the car a few minutes before. Evidently the chauffeurhad been successful in his mission, for Dillon was back directlywith a hasty, "Yes, all right. He's backing the car around so thathe can run it out on the road instantly in either direction. He'llbe here in a moment. "

Garrick had in the meantime been roughly sketching on the back ofan old envelope taken from his pocket. Evidently he had beenestimating the distance of the house from the tree back of whichhe stood, and worked with the light of a shaded pocket flashlight. 

"Ready, then, " he cried, jumping up and advancing to the peculiarinstrument which I had unwrapped. He was in his element now. Afterall the weary hours of watching and preparation, here was actionat last, and Garrick went to it like a starved man at food. 

First he elevated the clumsy looking instrument pointed in thegeneral direction of the house. He had fixed the angle atapproximately that which he had hastily figured out on theenvelope. Then he took a cylinder about twelve inches long, andalmost half as much in diameter, a huge thing, constructed, itseemed, of a substance that was almost as brittle as an eggshell. Into the large hemispherical cavity in the breech of the gun heshoved it. He took another quick look at the light gleaming fromthe house in the darkness ahead of us. 

"What is it?" I asked, indicating the "gun. "

"This is what is known as the Mathiot gun, " he explained as hebrought it into action, "invented by a French scientist for thepurpose, expressly, of giving the police a weapon to use againstthe automobile bandits who entrench themselves, when cornered, inhouses and garages, as they have done in the outskirts of Paris, and as some anarchists did once in a house in London. "

"What does it do?" asked Dillon, who had taken a great interest inthe thing. 

"It throws a bomb which emits suffocating gases without riskingthe lives of the police, " answered Garrick. "In spite of thefragility of the bombs that I have here, it has been found thatthey will penetrate a wooden door or even a thin brick partitionbefore the fuse explodes them. One bomb will render a room threehundred feet off uninhabitable in thirty seconds. Now--watch!"

He had exploded the gun by hand, striking the flat head of ahammer against the fulminating cap. The gun gave a bark. A low, whistling noise and a crash followed. 

"Too short, " muttered Garrick, elevating the angle of the gun atrifle. 

Quite evidently someone was moving in the house. There was ashadow, as of someone passing between the light in the upper storyand the window on our side of the house. 

Again the gun barked, and another bomb went hurtling through theair. This time it hit the house squarely. Another followed inrapid succession, and the crash of glass told that it had struck awindow. Garrick was sending them now as fast as he could. They hadtaken effect, too, for the light was out, whether extinguished bygases or by the hand of someone who realized that it afforded anexcellent mark to shoot at. Still, it made no difference, now, forwe had the range. 

"The house must be full of the stifling gases, " panted Garrick, ashe stopped to wipe the perspiration from his face, after his rapidwork, clad in the heavy coat. "No man could stand up against that. I wonder how our friend of the garage likes it, Tom? It is some ofhis own medicine--the Chief, I mean. He tried it on us on a smallscale very successfully that night with his stupefying gun. "

"I hope one of them hit him, " ground out Dillon, who had no relisheven for the recollection of that night. "What next? Do you haveto wait until the gases clear away before we can make a break andgo in there?"

Garrick had anticipated the question. Already he was buttoning uphis long coat. We did the same, mechanically. 

"No, Dillon. You and Jim stay here, " ordered Garrick. "You willget the signal from us what to do next. Tom, come on. "

He had already dashed ahead into the darkness, and I followedblindly, stumbling over a ploughed field, then a fence over whichwe climbed quickly, and found ourselves in the enclosure where wasthe house. I had no idea what we were running up against, but adog which had been chained in the rear broke away from hisfastening at sight of us, and ran at us with a lusty and savagegrowl. Garrick planted a shot squarely in his head. 

Without wasting time on any formalities, such as ringing the bell, we kicked and battered in the back door. We paused a moment, notfrom fear but because the odor inside was terrific. No one couldhave stayed in that house and retained his senses. One by one, Garrick flung open the windows, and we were forced to stick ourheads out every few minutes in order to keep our own breath. 

From one room to another we proceeded, without finding anyone. Then we mounted to the second floor. The odour was worse there, but still we found no one. 

The light on the third floor had been extinguished, as I havesaid. We made our way toward the corner where it had been. Roomafter room we entered, but still found no one. At last we came toa door that was locked. Together we wrenched it open. 

There was surely nothing for us to fear in this room, for a bombhad penetrated it, and had filled it completely. As we rushed in, Garrick saw a figure sprawled on the floor, near the bed, in thecorner. 

"Quick, Tom!" he shouted, "Open that other window. I'll attend tothis man. He's groggy, anyhow. "

Garrick had dropped down on his knees and had deftly slipped apair of handcuffs on the unresisting wrists of the man. Then hestaggered to my side at the open window, for air. 

"Heavens--this is awful!" he gasped and sputtered. "I wonder wherethey all went?"

"Who is this fellow?" I asked. 

"I don't know yet. I couldn't see. "

A moment later, together, we had dragged the unconscious man tothe window with us, while I fanned him with my hat and Garrick waswetting his face with water from a pitcher of ice on the table. 

"Good Lord!" Garrick exclaimed suddenly, as in the fitful light hebent over the figure. "Do you see who it is?"

I bent down too and peered more closely. 

It was Angus Forbes. 

Strange to say, here was the young gambler whom we had seen at thegambling joint before it was raided, the long-lost and long-soughtForbes who had disappeared after the raid, and from whom no onehad yet heard a word. 

I did not know his story, but I knew enough to be sure that he hadbeen in love with Violet himself, and, although Warrington hadonce come to his rescue and settled thousands of dollars of hisgambling debts, was sore at Warrington for closing the gamblingjoint where he hoped ultimately to recoup his losses. More thanthat, he was probably equally sore at Warrington for winning thefavour of the girl whose fortune might have settled his own debts, if he had had a free field to court her. 

Why was Forbes here, I asked myself. The fumes of the bombs fromthe Mathiot gun may have got into my head but, at least as far asI could see, they had not made my mind any the less active. I feltthat his presence here, apparently as one of the gang, explainedmany things. 

Who, I reasoned, would have been more eager to "get" Warrington atany cost than he? I never had any love for the fellow, who hadallowed his faults and his temptations so far to get the upperhand of him. I had felt a sort of pity at first, but the incidentof the cancelled markers in the gambling joint and now thediscovery of him here had changed that original feeling into onethat was purely of disgust. 

These thoughts were coursing through my fevered brain whileGarrick was working hard to bring him around. 

Suddenly a mocking voice came from the hall. 

"Yes, it's Forbes, all right, and much good may it do you to havehim!"

The door to the room, which opened outward, banged shut. The lockhad been broken by us in forcing an entrance. There must have beentwo of them out in the hall, for we heard the noise and scrapingof feet, as they piled up heavy furniture against the door, dragging it from the next room before we could do anything. Pieceafter piece was wedged in between our door and the opposite wall. 

We could hear them taunt us as they worked, and I thought Irecognised at once the voice of the stocky keeper of the garage, the Boss, whom I had heard so often before over our detectaphone. The other voice, which seemed to me to be disguised, I foundsomewhat familiar, yet I could not place it. It must have been, Ithought, that of the man whom we had come to know and fear underthe appellation of the Chief. 

We could hear them laugh, now, as they cursed us and wished usluck with our capture. It was galling. 

Evidently, too, they had not much use for Forbes, and, indeed, atsuch a crisis I do not think he would have been much more than anadditional piece of animated impedimenta. Dissipation had notadded anything to the physical prowess of Forbes. 

With a parting volley of profanity, they stamped down the narrowstairs to the ground floor, and a few seconds afterward we couldhear them back of the house, working over the machine which we hadfollowed up from New York earlier in the day. Evidently there wereseveral machines in the barn which served them as garage, but thiswas the handiest. 

They had cranked it up, and were debating which way they shouldgo. 

"The shots came from the direction of the main road, " the Bosssaid. "We had better go in the opposite direction. There may bemore of them coming. Hurry up!"

At least, it seemed, there had been only three of them in thisrefuge which they had sought up in the hills and valleys of theRamapos. Of that we could now be reasonably certain. One of themwe had captured--and had ourselves been captured into the bargain. 

I stuck my head out of the window to look at the other two downbelow, only to feel myself dragged unceremoniously back byGarrick. 

"What's the use of taking that risk, Tom?" he expostulated. "Oneshot from them and you would be a dead one. "

Fortunately they had not seen me, so intent were they on gettingaway. They had now seated themselves in the car and, as Garrickhad suspected, could not resist delivering a parting shot at us, emptying the contents of an automatic blindly up at our window. Garrick and I were, as it. Happened, busy on the opposite side ofthe room. 

All thought of Forbes was dropped for the present. Garrick saidnot a word but continued at work in the corner of the room by theother broken window. 

"Either they must have succeeded in getting out after the firstshot and so escaped the fumes, " muttered Garrick finally, "and hidin the stable, or, perhaps, they were out there at work anyhow. Still that makes little difference now. They must have seen us goin, have followed us quietly, and then caught us here. "

With a hasty final imprecation, the car below started forward witha jerk and was swallowed up in the darkness. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE MAN HUNT

Here we were, locked in a little room on the top floor of themysterious house. I looked out of both windows. There was no wayto climb down and it was too far to jump, especially in theuncertain darkness. I threw myself at the door. It had beeneffectually braced by our captors. 

Garrick, in the meantime, had lighted the light again, and placedit by the window. 

Forbes, now partly recovered, was rambling along, and Garrick, with one eye on him and the other on something which he wasworking over in the light, was too busy to pay much attention tomy futile efforts to find a means of escape. 

At first we could not make out what it was that Forbes was tryingto tell us, but soon, as the fresh air in the room revived him, his voice became stronger. Apparently he recognised us and wastrying to offer an explanation of his presence here. 

"He kidnapped me--brought me here, " Forbes was muttering. "Threedays--I've been shut up in this room. "

"Who brought you here?" I demanded sharply. 

"I don't know his name--man at the gambling place--after the raid--said he'd take me in his car somewhere--from the other place backof it--last I remember--must have drugged me--woke up here--all Iknow. "

"You've been a prisoner, then?" I queried. 

"Yes, " he murmured. 

"A likely story, " I remarked, looking questioningly at Garrick whohad been listening but had not ceased his own work, whatever itwas. "What are you going to do, Guy? We can't stay here and wastetime over such talk as this while they are escaping. They must bealmost to the road now, and turning down in the opposite directionfrom Dillon and his man. "

Garrick said nothing. Either he was too busy solving our presenttroubles or he was, like myself, not impressed by Forbes'incoherent story. He continued to adjust the little instrumentwhich I had seen him draw from his pocket and now recognised asthe thing which looked like a telephone transmitter. Only, theback of it seemed to gleam with a curious brightness under therays of the light, as he handled it. 

"They have somehow contrived to escape the effect of the bombs, "he was saying, "and have surprised us in the room on the top floorwhere the light is. We are up here with a young fellow namedForbes, whom we have captured. He's the young man that I sawseveral times at the gambling joint and was at dinner withWarrington the night when the car was stolen. He was pretty badlyovercome by the fumes, but I've brought him around. He eitherdoesn't know much or won't tell what he knows. That doesn't makeany difference now, though. They have escaped in a car. They areleaving by the road. Wait. I'll see whether they have reached ityet. No, it's too dark to see and they have no light on the car. But they must have turned. They said they were going in thedirection opposite from you. "

"Well?" I asked, mystified. "What of it? I know all that, already. "

"But Dillon doesn't, " replied Garrick, in great excitement now. "Iknew that we should have to have some way of communicating withhim instantly if this fellow proved to be as resourceful as Ibelieved him to be. So I thought of the radiophone or photophoneof Dr. Alexander Graham Bell. I have really been telephoning on abeam of light. "

"Telephoning on a beam of light?" I repeated incredulously. 

"Yes, " he explained, feeling now at liberty to talk since he haddelivered his call for help. "You see, I talk into thistransmitter. The simplest transmitter for this purpose is a planemirror of flexible material, silvered mica or microscope glass. Against the back of this mirror my voice is directed. In thecarbon transmitter of the telephone a variable electricalresistance is produced by the pressure on the diaphragm, based onthe fact that carbon is not as good a conductor of electricityunder pressure as when not. Here, the mouthpiece is just a shellsupporting a thin metal diaphragm to which the mirror on the backis attached, an apparatus for transforming the air vibrationsproduced by the voice into light vibrations of the projected beam, which is reflected from this light here in the room. The lightreflected is thus thrown into vibrations corresponding to those inthe diaphragm. "

"And then?" I asked impatiently. 

"That varying beam of light shoots out of this room, and is caughtby the huge reflector which you saw me set up at the foot of thattall tree which you can just see against the dark sky over there. That parabolic mirror gathers in the scattered rays, focusses themon the selenium cell which you saw in the middle of the reflector, and that causes the cell to vary the amount of electric currentpassing through it from a battery of storage cells. It isconnected with a very good telephone receiver. Every change in thebeam of light due to the vibrations of my voice is caught by thatreceiving mirror, and the result is that the diaphragm in thereceiver over there which Dillon is holding to his ear responds. The thing is good over several hundred yards, perhaps miles, sometimes. Only, I wish it would work both ways. I would like tofeel sure that Dillon gets me. "

I looked at the simple little instrument with a sort of reverence, for on it depended the momentous question of whether we should bereleased in time to pursue the two who were escaping in theautomobile. 

"You'll have to hurry, " continued Garrick, speaking into histransmitter. "Give the signal. Get the car ready. Anything, solong as it is action. Use your own judgment. "

There he was, flashing a message out of our prison by an invisibleray that shot across the Cimmerian darkness to the point where weknew that our friends were waiting anxiously. I could scarcelybelieve it. But Garrick had the utmost faith in the ability of theradiophone to make good. 

"They MUST have started by this time, " he cried, craning his neckout of the window and looking in every direction. 

Forbes was still rambling along, but Garrick was not paying anyattention to him. Instead, he began rummaging the room forpossible evidence, more for something to do than because he hopedto find anything, while we were waiting anxiously for something tohappen. 

An exclamation from Garrick, however, brought me to his side. Tucked away in a bureau drawer under some soiled linen thatplainly belonged to Forbes, he drew out what looked like a singleblue-steel tube about three inches long. At its base was a hard-rubber cap, which fitted snugly into the palm of the hand as heheld it. His first and middle fingers encircled the barrel, over asteel ring. A pull downward and the thing gave a click. 

"Good that it wasn't loaded, " Garrick remarked. "I knew what thething was, all right, but I didn't think the spring was asdelicate as all that. It is a new and terrible weapon ofdestruction of human life, one that can be carried by the thug orthe burglar and no one be the wiser, unless he has occasion to useit. It is a gun that can be concealed in the palm of the hand. Apull downward on that spring discharges a thirty-two calibre, centre fire cartridge. The most dangerous feature of it is thatthe gun can be carried in an upper vest pocket as a fountain pen, or in a trousers pocket as a penknife. "

I looked with added suspicion now, if not a sort of respect, onthe young man who was tossing, half conscious, on the bed. Was he, after all, not the simple, gullible Forbes, but a real secretmaster of crime?

Garrick, keen though he had been over the discovery, was inreality much more interested just now in the result of hisradiophone message. What would be the outcome?

I had been startled to see that almost instantly after his secondcall over the radiophone there seemed to rise on all sides of uslights and the low baying of dogs. 

"What's all that?" I asked Garrick. 

"Dillon had a dozen or so police dogs shipped up here quietly, "answered Garrick, now straining his eyes and ears eagerly. "Hestarted them out each in charge of an officer as soon as theyarrived. I hope they had time to get around in that otherdirection and close in. That was what he sent the chauffeur backto see about, to make sure that they were placed by the man who isthe trainer of the pack. "

"What kind of dogs are they?"

"Some Airedales, but mostly Belgian sheep dogs. There is one inthe pack, Cherry, who has a wonderful reputation. A great dealdepends, now, on our dog-detectives. "

"But, " I objected, "what good will they be? Our men are in anautomobile. "

"We thought of that, " replied Garrick confidently. "Here they are, at last, " he cried, as a car swung up the lane from the road andstopped with a rush under our window. He leaned out and shouted, "Dillon--up here--quick!"

It was Dillon and his chauffeur, Jim. A moment later there was atremendous shifting and pulling of heavy pieces of furniture inthe hall, and, as the door swung open, the honest face of thecommissioner appeared, inquiring anxiously if we were all right. 

"Yes, all right, " assured Garrick. "Come on, now. There isn't aminute to lose. Send Jim up here to take charge of Forbes. I'lldrive the car myself. "

Garrick accomplished in seconds what it takes minutes to tell. Thechauffeur had already turned the car around and it was ready tostart. We jumped in, leaving him to go upstairs and keep themanacled Forbes safely. 

We gained the road and sped along, our lights now lighted andshowing us plainly what was ahead. The dust-laden air told us thatwe were right as we turned into the narrow crossroad. I wonderedhow we were ever going to overtake them after they had such astart, at night, too, over roads which were presumably familiar tothem. 

"Drive carefully, " shouted Dillon soon, "it must be along here, somewhere, Garrick. "

A moment before we had been almost literally eating the dust thecar ahead had raised. Garrick slowed down as we approached a bendin the road. 

There, almost directly in our path, stood a car, turned halfacross the road and jammed up into a fence. I could scarcelybelieve it. It was the bandit's car--deserted!

"Good!" exclaimed Dillon as Garrick brought our own car to a stopwith a jerk only a few feet away. 

I looked about in amazement, first at the empty car and then intothe darkness on either side of the road. For the moment I couldnot explain it. Why had they abandoned the car, especially whenthey had every prospect of eluding us in it?

They had not been forced to turn out for anybody, for no othervehicle had passed us. Was it tire trouble or engine trouble? Iturned to the others for an explanation. 

"I thought it must be about here, " cried Dillon. "We had one of mymen place an obstruction in the road. They didn't run into it, which shows clever driving, but they had to turn so sharply thatthey ran into the fence. I guess they realised that there was nouse in turning and trying to go back. "

"They have taken to the open country, " shouted Garrick, leaping upon the seat of our car and looking about in a vain endeavour tocatch some sign of them. 

All was still, save here and there the sharp, distant bark of adog. 

"I wonder which way they went?" he asked, looking down at us. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE POLICE DOG

Dillon pulled a whistle from his pocket and blew a short blastsharply. Far down the road, we could hear faintly an answeringbark. It came nearer. 

"They're taught to obey a police whistle and nothing else, "remarked Dillon, with satisfaction. "I wonder which one of thedogs that was. By the way, just keep out of sight as much as youcan--get back up in our car. They are trained to worry anyone whohasn't a uniform. I'll take this dog in charge. I hope it'sCherry. She ought to be around here, if the men obeyed my orders. The others aren't keen on a scent even when it is fresh, butCherry is a dandy and I had the man bring her up purposely. "

We got back into our car and waited impatiently. Across the hillsnow and then we could catch the sounds of dogs scouting aroundhere and there. It seemed as if every dog in the valley had beenaroused. On the other slope of the hill from the main road wecould see lights in the scattered houses. 

"I doubt whether they have gone that way, " commented Garrickfollowing my gaze. "It looks less settled over here to the rightof the road, in the direction of New York. "

The low baying of the dog which had answered Dillon's call wasgrowing nearer every moment. At last we could hear it quite close, at the deserted car ahead. 

Cherry seemed to have many of the characteristics of the wild, prehistoric animal, among them the full, upright ears of the wilddog, which are such a great help to it. She was a fine, alert, up-standing dog, hardy, fierce, and literally untiring, of a tawnylight brown like a lioness, about the same size and somewhat ofthe type of the smooth-coated collie, broad of chest and with afull brush of tail. 

Untamed though she seemed, she was perfectly under Dillon'scontrol, and rendered him absolute and unreasoning obedience. 

"Now, Cherry, nice dog, " we heard Dillon encouraging, "Here, uphere. And here. "

He was giving the dog the scent from the deserted car. His voicerang out sharply in the night air, "Come on Garrick and Marshall. She's got it. I've got her on leash. Follow along, now, just a fewfeet behind. "

Cherry was on the trail and it was a hot one. We could just seeher magnificent head, narrow and dome-like, between the keen ears. She was working like a regular sleuthhound, now, too, slowly, picking up the trail and following it, baying as she went. 

She was now going without a halt or falter. Nose to the ground, she had leaped from the bandit's car and made straight across afield in the direction that Garrick had suspected they would take, only a little to the west. 

"This is a regular, old-fashioned man hunt, " called back Dillon, as we followed the dog and himself, as best we could. 

It was pitch dark, but we plunged ahead over fields and throughlittle clumps of trees, around hedges, and over fences. 

There was no stopping, no cessation of the deep baying of the dog. Cherry was one of the best and most versatile that the police hadever acquired and trained. 

We came to the next crossroad, and the dog started up in thedirection of the main road, questing carefully. 

We had gone not a hundred feet when a dark object darted out ofthe bushes at the side of the road, and I felt myselfunceremoniously tumbled off my feet. 

Garrick leaped aside, with a laugh. 

"Dillon, " he shouted ahead at the top of his voice, "one of theAiredales has discovered Marshall. Come back here. Lie still, Tom. The dog is trained to run between the legs and trip up anyonewithout a police uniform. By Jupiter--here's another one--afterme. Dillon--I say--Dillon!"

The commissioner came back, laughing at our plight, and called offthe dogs, who were now barking furiously. We let him get a littleahead, calling the Airedales to follow him. They were not muchgood on the scent, but keen and intelligent along the lines oftheir training, and perfectly willing to follow Dillon, who wastrusting to the keen sense of Cherry. 

A little further down, the fugitives had evidently left the roadafter getting their bearings. 

"They must have heard the dogs, " commented Garrick. "They aredoubling on their tracks, now, and making for the Ramapo River inthe hope of throwing the dogs off the scent. That's the game. It'san old trick. "

We came, sure enough, in a few minutes to the river. That hadindeed been their objective point. Cherry was baffled. We stuckclose to Dillon, after our previous experience, as we stopped totalk over hastily what to do. 

Had they gone up or down, or had they crossed? There was not muchtime that we could afford to lose here in speculation if we weregoing to catch them. 

Cherry was casting backward in an instinctive endeavour to pick upthe trail. Dillon had taken her across and she had not succeededin finding the scent on the opposite bank for several hundredyards on either side. 

"They started off toward the southwest, " reasoned Garrick quickly. "Then they turned in this direction. The railroads are over there. Yes, that is what they would make for. Dillon, " he called, "let usfollow the right bank of the river down this way, and see if wecan't pick them up again. "

The river was shallow at this point, but full of rocks, which madeit extremely hard, if not dangerous, to walk even close to thebank in the darkness. "I don't think they'd stand for much of thissort of going, " remarked Garrick. "A little of it would satisfythem, and they'd strike out again. "

He was right. Perhaps five minutes later, after wading in the coldwater, clinging as close to the bank as we could, we came to asort of rapids. Cherry, who had been urged on by Dillon, gave ajerk at her leash, as she sniffed along the bank. 

"She has it, " cried Garrick, springing up the bank after Dillon. 

I followed and we three men and three dogs struck out again inearnest across country. 

We had come upon a long stretch of woods, and the brambles andthick growth made the going exceedingly difficult. Still, if itwas hard for us now, it must have been equally hard for them asthey broke through in the first place. 

At last we came to the end of the woods. The trail was now fresherthan ever, and Dillon had difficulty in holding Cherry back sothat the rest of us could follow. As we emerged from the shadow ofthe trees into the open field, it seemed as if guns were blazingon all sides of us. 

We were almost up with them. They had separated and were not halfa mile away, firing at random in our direction, as they heard thedogs. Dillon drew up, Cherry tugging ahead. He turned to theAiredales. They had already taken in the situation, and were nowdarting ahead at what they could see, if not scent. 

I felt a "ping!" on my chest. I scarcely realized what it wasuntil I heard something drop the next instant in the stubble at myfeet, and felt a smarting sensation as if a sharp blow had struckme. I bent down and from the stubble picked up a distorted bullet. 

"These bullet-proof coats are some good, anyhow, at a distance, "remarked Garrick, close beside me, as he took the bullet from myfingers. "Duck! Back among the trees--until we get our bearings!"

Another bullet had whizzed just past his arm as he spoke. 

We dodged back among the trees, and slowly skirted the edge of thewood, where it bent around a little on the flank of the positionfrom which the continuous firing was coming. 

At the edge we stopped again. We could go no further withoutcoming out into the open, and the moon, just rising, above thetrees, made us an excellent mark under such conditions. Garrickpeered out to determine from just where they were firing. 

"Lucky for us that we had these coats, " he muttered, "or theywould have croaked us, before we knew it. These are our oldfriends, the anaesthetic bullets, too. Even a little scratch fromone of them and we should be hors de combat for an hour or two. "

"Shall we take a chance?" urged Dillon. 

"Just a minute, " cautioned Garrick, listening. 

The barking of the Airedales had ceased suddenly. Cherry wasstraining at her leash to go. 

"They have winged the two dogs, " exclaimed Garrick. "Yes--we musttry it now--at any cost. "

We broke from the cover, taking a chance, separating as much as wecould, and pushing ahead rapidly, Dillon under his breath keepingCherry from baying as much as possible. 

I had expected a sharp fusillade to greet us as we advanced andwondered whether the coats would stand it at closer range. Instead, the firing seemed to have ceased altogether. 

A quick dash and we had crossed the stretch of open field thatseparated us from a dark object which now loomed up, and frombehind which it seemed had come the firing. As we approached, Isaw it was a shed beside the railroad, which was depressed at thispoint some twelve or fifteen feet. 

"They kept us off just long enough, " exclaimed Garrick, glancingup at the lights of the block signals down the road. "They must bedesperate, all right. Why, they must have jumped a freight as itslowed down for the curve, or perhaps one of them flagged it andheld it up. See? The red signal shows that a train has just gonethrough toward New York. There is no chance to wire ahead, either, from this Ducktown siding. Here's where they stood--look!"

Garrick had picked up a handful of exploded cartridge shells, while he was speaking. They told a mute story of the lastdesperate stand of the gunmen. 

"I'll keep these, " he said, shoving them into his pocket. "Theymay be of some use later on in connecting to-night's doings withwhat has gone before. "

We looked at each other blankly. There was nothing more to do thatnight but to return to the now deserted house in the valley wherewe had left Forbes in charge of Dillon's man. 

Toilsomely and disgusted, we trudged back in silence. 

Garrick, however, refused to be discouraged. Late as it was, heinsisted on making a thorough search of the captured house. Itproved to be a veritable arsenal. Here it seemed that all the newand deadly weapons of the scientific gunman had been made. Thebarn, turned into half garage and half workshop, was a mine ofinterest. 

We found it unlocked and entered, Garrick flashing a light about. 

"There's a sight that would do McBirney's eyes good, " he exclaimedas he bent the rays of the light before us. 

Before us, in the back of the barn, stood Warrington's stolen car--at last. 

"They won't plot anything more--at least not up here, " remarkedGarrick, bending over it. 

In the house, we found Jim still with Forbes, who was nowcompletely recovered. In the possession of his senses, Forbes'tongue which the anaesthetic gases seemed to have loosened, nowbecame suddenly silent again. But he stuck doggedly to his storyof kidnapping, although he would not or could not add anything toit. Who the kidnapper was he swore he did not know, except that hehad known his face well, by sight, at the gambling joint. 

I could make nothing of Forbes. But of one thing I was sure. Evenif we had not captured the scientific gunman, we had dealt him asevere and crushing blow. Like Garrick, I had begun to look uponthe escape philosophically. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE FRAME-UP

Although I felt discouraged on our return to the city, the morningfollowing our exciting adventure at the mysterious house in theRamapo valley, Garrick, who never let anything ruffle him long, seemed quite cheerful. 

"Cheer up, Tom, " he encouraged. "We are on the home stretch now. "

"Perhaps--if they don't beat us to the tape, " I answereddisconsolately. "What are you going to do next?"

"While you were snatching a little sleep, I was rummaging aroundand found a number of letters in a table drawer, up there. One wasa note, evidently to the garage keeper, and signed merely, 'Chief. ' I'll wager that the handwriting is the same as that inthe blackmailing letter to Miss Winslow. "

"What of it?" I asked, refusing to be comforted. "We haven't gothim and the prospects--"

"No, we haven't got him, " interrupted Garrick, "but the note wasjust a line to tell the Boss, who seemed to have been up there inthe country at the time, to meet the Chief at 'the Joint, ' onSecond Avenue. "

I nodded, but before I could speak, he added, "It didn't say anymore, but I think I know the place. It is the old InternationalCafe, a regular hang-out for crooks, where they come to gambleaway the proceeds of their crimes in stuss, the great game of theEast Side, now. Anyhow, we'll just drop into the place. We may notfind them, but we'll have an interesting time. Then, there is thepossibility of getting a strangle hold on someone, anyhow. "

Garrick was evidently figuring on having driven our gunman backinto the haunts of the underworld. 

There seemed to be no other course that presented itself andtherefore, rather than remain inactive until something new turnedup, I consented to accompany him in his excursion. 

Forbes, still uncommunicatively protesting that he would saynothing until he had an opportunity to consult a lawyer, had beentaken down to New York by Dillon during the morning and was lodgedin a West Side prison under a technical charge which wassufficient to hold him until Garrick could investigate his caseand fix his real status. 

We had taken a cross-town car, with the intention of looking overthe dive where Garrick believed the crooks might drop in. The rideitself was uninteresting, but not so by any means the objectivepoint of our journey. 

Over on the East Side, we found the International Cafe, andslouched into the back room. It was not the room devoted to stuss, but the entrance to it, which Garrick informed me was through aheavy door concealed in a little hallway, so that its veryexistence would not be suspected except by the initiate. 

We made no immediate attempt to get into the hang-out proper, which was a room perhaps thirty feet wide and seventy feet deep. Instead, we sat down at one of the dirty, round tables, andordered something from the waiter, a fat and oily Muscowitz in agreasy and worn dinner coat. 

It seemed that in the room where we were had gathered nearly everyvariety of the populous underworld. I studied the men and women atthe tables curiously, without seeming to do so. But there could beno concealment here. Whatever we might be, they seemed to knowthat we were not of them, and they greeted us with black looks andnow and then a furtive scowl. 

It was not long, however, before it became evident that in someway word had been passed that we were not mere sightseers. Perhapsit was by a sort of wireless electric tension that seemed topervade the air. At any rate, it was noticeable. 

"There's no use staying here, " remarked Garrick to me under hisbreath, affecting not to notice the scowls, "unless we dosomething. Are you game for trying to get into the stuss joint?"

He said it with such determination to go himself that I did notrefuse. I had made up my mind that the only thing to do was tofollow him, wherever he went. 

Garrick rose, stretched himself, yawned as though bored, andtogether we lounged out into the public hall, just as someone fromthe outside clamoured for admission to the stuss joint through thestrong door. 

The door had already been opened, when Garrick deftly inserted hisshoulder. Through the crack in the door, I could see the startledroomful of players of all degrees in crookdom, in the thick, curling tobacco smoke. 

The man at the door called out to Garrick to get out, and raisedhis arm to strike. Garrick caught his fist, and slowly with hispowerful grip bent it back until the man actually writhed. As hiswrist went back by fractions of an inch, his fingers were forcedto relax. I knew the trick. It was the scientific way to open aclenched fist. As the tendons refused to stretch any farther, hisfingers straightened, and a murderous looking blackjack clatteredto the floor. 

All was confusion. Money which was on the various tablesdisappeared as if by magic. Cards were whisked away as if a ghosthad taken them. In a moment there was no more evidence of gamblingthan is afforded by any roomful of men, so easy was it to hide theparaphernalia, or, rather, lack of paraphernalia of stuss. 

It was the custom, I knew, for criminals, after they had made ahaul to retire into such places as these stuss parlors, not onlyto spend the proceeds of their robberies, but for protection. Eventhough they were unmercifully fleeced by the gamblers, they mightdepend on them to warn of the approach of the "bulls" and ifpossible count on being hidden or spirited off to safety. 

Apparently we had come just at a time when there were somecriminals in hiding among the players. It was the only explanationI could offer of the strange action that greeted our simpleattempt to gain admission to the stuss room. Whether they werecriminals who had really made a haul or mere fugitives fromjustice, I could not guess. But that a warning had been given theman at the door to be on his guard, seemed evident from the mannerin which we had been met. 

There was a rush of feet in the room. I expected that we would beoverwhelmed. Instead, as together we pushed on the now half-opendoor, the room emptied like a sieve. Whoever it might be who hadtaken refuge there had probably disappeared, among the first, bytacit understanding of the rest, for the whole thing had the airof being run off according to instructions. 

"It's a collar!" had sounded through the room, the moment we hadappeared at the door, and it was now empty. 

I wondered whether the letter which Garrick had found might not, after all, have brought us straight to the last resort of thosewhom we sought. 

"Where have they gone?" I panted, as the door opened at last, andwe found only one man in the place. 

There he stood apparently ready to be arrested, in fact courtingit if we could show the proper authority, since he knew that itwould be only a question of hours when he would be out again andthe game would be resumed, in full blast. 

The man shook his head blankly in answer to my question. 

"There must be a trap door somewhere, " cried Garrick. "It is nouse to find it. They are all on the street by this time. Quick--before anyone catches us in the rear. "

We had been not a moment too soon in gaining the street. Though wehad done nothing but attempt to get into the stuss room, ostensibly as players, the crowd in the cafe was pressing forward. 

On the street, we saw men filing quickly from a cellar, a fewdoors down the block. We mingled with the excited crowd in orderto cover ourselves. 

"That must have been where the trap door and passage led, "whispered Garrick. 

A familiar figure ducked out of the cellar, surrounded by others, and the crowd made for two taxicabs standing on the opposite sideof the street near a restaurant which was really not a tough jointbut made a play at catering to people from uptown who wanted ataste of near-crime and did not know when they were being buncoed. 

Another cab swung up to the stand, just as the first two pulledaway. Its sign was up: "Vacant. "

Quick as a flash, Garrick was in it, dragging me after him. Thedriver must have thought that we, too, were escaping, for heneeded only one order from Garrick to leap ahead in the wake ofthe cabs which had already started. 

A moment later, Garrick's head was out of the window. He had drawnhis revolver and was pegging away at the tires of the cabs ahead. An answering shot came back to us. Meanwhile, a policeman at acorner leaped on a passing trolley and urged the motorman to puton the full power in a vain effort to pursue us as we swept by upthe broad avenue. 

Even the East Side, accustomed to frequent running fights on thestreets between rival gunmen and gangs, was roused by such anoutburst. The crack of revolver shots, the honking of horns, theclang of the trolley bell, and the shouts of men along the streetbrought hundreds to the windows, as the cars lurched and swayed upthe avenue. 

The cars ahead swerved to dodge a knot of pedestrians, but theirpace never slackened. Then the rearmost of the two began to buckand almost leap off the roadway. There came a rattle and roar fromthe rear wheels which told that the tires had been punctured andthat the heavy wheels were riding on their rims, cutting thedeflated tubes. At a cross street the first car turned, just intime to avoid a truck, and dodged down a maze of side streets, butthe second ran squarely into the truck. 

As the first car disappeared we caught a glimpse of a man leaningout of it. He seemed to be swinging something around and around atarm's length. Suddenly he let it go and it shot high up in the airon the roof of a tenement house. 

"The automobile is the most dangerous weapon ever used bycriminals, " muttered Garrick, as the first car shot down through amass of trucking which had backed up and shifted, making pursuitmomentarily more impossible for us. "These people know how to usethe automobile, too. But we've got someone here, anyhow, " hecried, leaping out and pushing aside the crowd that had collectedabout the wrecked car. 

In the bottom of it we found a man, stunned and crumpled into aheap. Blood flowed from his arm where one of the bullets hadstruck him. Several bullets had struck the back of the cab andboth tires were cut by them. 

As I came up and looked over Garrick's shoulder at the prostrateand unconscious figure in the car, I could not restrain anexclamation of surprise. 

It was the garage keeper, the Boss--at last!

Policemen had come up in the meantime, and several minutes wereconsumed while Garrick proved to them his identity. 

"What was that thing the fellow in the forward car whirled overhis head?" I whispered. 

"A revolver, I think, " returned Garrick. "That's a favourite trickof the gunmen. With a stout cord tied to a gun you can catapult itfar enough to destroy the evidence that will hold you under theSullivan law, at least. I mean to get that gun as soon as we arethrough with this fellow here. "

Someone had turned in a call for an ambulance which came janglingup soon after, and we stood in a group close to the young surgeonas he worked to bring around the captured gangster. 

"Where's the Chief?" he mumbled, dazed. 

Garrick motioned to us to be quiet. 

The man rambled on with a few inconsequential remarks, then openedhis eyes, caught sight of the white coated surgeon working overhim, of us standing behind, and of the crowd about him. 

Memory of what had happened flitted back to him. With an effort hewas himself again, close-mouthed, after the manner of thegangsters. 

The surgeon had done all in his power and the man was sufficientlyrecovered to be taken to the hospital, now, under arrest. As faras we were concerned, our work was done. The Boss could be foundnow, at any time that we needed him, but that he would speak allthe traditions of gangland made impossible. 

I wondered what Garrick would do. As for myself, I had no ideawhat move to make. 

It surprised me, therefore, to see him with a smile ofsatisfaction on his face. 

"I'll see you this afternoon, Tom, " he said merely, as theambulance bore the wounded Boss away. "Meanwhile, I wish you'dtake the time to go over to headquarters and give Dillon ourversion of this affair. Tell him to hold to-night open, too. Ihave a little work to do this afternoon, and I'll call him uplater. "

Dillon, I found, was overjoyed when I reported to him the captureof at least one man whom we had failed to get the night before. 

"Things seem to be clearing up, after all, " he remarked. "TellGarrick I shall hold open to-night for him. Meanwhile, good luck, and let me know the moment you get any word about the Chief. Hemust have been in. That first cab, all right. "

As I left Dillon's office, I ran into Herman in the hall, comingin. I bowed to him and he nodded surlily. Evidently, I thought, hehad heard of the result of our activities. I did not ask him whatprogress he had made in the case, for I had had experience withprofessional jealousy before, and thought that the less said onthe subject the better. 

Recalling what Garrick had said, I curbed my impatience as best Icould, in order to give him ample time to complete the work thathe had to do. It was not until the middle of the afternoon that Irejoined him in his office. 

I found him at work at a table, still, with a microscope and anarrangement which I recognised as the apparatus for makingmicrophotographs. Several cartridges, carefully labelled, werelying before him, as well as the peculiar pistol we had found whenwe had captured Forbes in the little room. There were also theguns we had captured in the garage and one found in the cab whichwe had chased and wrecked. 

On the end of the table was a large number of photographs of amost peculiar nature. I picked up one. It looked like an enlargedphotograph of an orange, or like some of the pictures which theastronomers make of the nearer planets. 

"What are these?" I asked curiously, as he leaned back from hiswork, with a smile of quiet satisfaction. 

"That is a collection of microphotographs which I have gathered, "he answered, adding, "as well as some that I have just made. Ihope to use them in a little stereopticon entertainment I amarranging to-night for those who have been interested in thecase. "

Garrick smiled. "Have you ever heard?" he asked, "that the roundedend of the firing pin of every rifle when it is examined under amicroscope bears certain irregularities of marking different fromthose of every other firing pin and that the primer of every shellfired in a rifle is impressed with the particular markings of thatfiring pin?"

I had not, but Garrick went on, "I know that it is true. Suchmarkings are distinctive for each rifle and can be made by noother. I have taken rifles bearing numbers preceding and followingthat of a particular one, as well as a large number of otherfiring pins. I have tried the rifles and the firing pins, one byone, and after I made microphotographs of the firing pins withspecial reference to the rounded ends and also photographs of thecorresponding rounded depressions in the primers fired by them, itwas forced upon me that cartridges fired by each individual firingpin could be positively identified. "

I had been studying the photographs. It was a new idea, and itappealed to me strongly. "How about revolvers?" I asked quickly. 

"Well, Dr. Balthazard, the French criminologist, has madeexperiments on the identification of revolver bullets and has asystem that might be compared to that of Bertillon for identifyinghuman beings. He has showed by greatly enlarged photographs thatevery gun barrel leaves marks on a bullet and that the marks arealways the same for the same barrel but never identical for twodifferent barrels. He has shown that the hammer of a revolver, saya centre fire, strikes the cartridge at a point which is never theexact centre of the cartridge, but is always the same for the sameweapon. He has made negatives of bullets nearly a foot wide. Everydetail appears very distinctly and it can be decided with absolutecertainty whether a certain bullet or cartridge was fired by acertain revolver. "

He had picked up one of the microphotographs and was looking at itattentively through a small glass. 

"You will see, " he explained, "on the edge of this photograph arough sketch calling attention to a mark like an L which is thechief characteristic of this hammer, although there are otherdetailed markings which show well under the microscope but not ina photograph. You will note that the marks on a hammer arereversed on the primer in the same way that a metal type and thecharacter printed by it are reversed as regards one another. Moreover, depressions on the end of a hammer become raised on theprimer and raised markings on the hammer become depressions on theprimer. 

"Now, here is another. You can see that it is radically differentfrom the first, which was from the cartridge used in killing poorRena Taylor. This second one is from that gun which I found on thetenement roof this morning. It lacks the L mark as well as theconcentric circles. Here is another. Its chief characteristics area series of pits and elevations which, examined under themicroscope and measured, will be found to afford a set ofcharacters utterly different from those of any other hammer. 

"In short, " he concluded with an air of triumph, "the ends offiring pins are turned and finished in a lathe by the use of toolsdesigned for that purpose. The metal tears and works unevenly sothat microscopical examination shows many pits, lines, circles, and irregularities. The laws of chance are as much against two ofthese firing pins or hammers having the same appearance under themicroscope as they are against the thumb prints of two humansubjects being identical. "

I picked up the curious little arrangement which we had found inthe drawer in Forbes' room and examined it closely. 

"I have been practicing with that pistol, if you may call itthat, " he remarked, "on cartridges of my own and examining themarks made by the peculiar hammer. I have studied marks of the gunwhich we found on the roof. I have compared them with the marks oncartridges which we have picked up at the finding of Rena Taylor'sbody, at the garage that night of the stupefying bullet, withbullets such as were aimed at Warrington, with others, bothcartridges and bullets, at various times, and the conclusion isunescapable. "

Who, I asked myself, was the scientific gunman? I knew it wasuseless to try to hurry Garrick. First, by a sort of intuition hehad picked him out, then by the evidence of hammer and bullet hehad made it practically certain. But I knew that to his scientificmind nothing but absolute certainty would suffice. 

While I was waiting for him to proceed, he had already begun towork on some apparatus behind a screen at the end of his office. Close to the wall at the left was a stereopticon which, as nearlyas I could make out, shot a beam of light through a tube to agalvanometer about three feet distant. In front of this beamwhirled a five-spindled wheel governed by a chronometer which wasso accurate, he said, that it erred only a second a day. 

Between the poles of the galvanometer was stretched a slenderthread of fused quartz plated with silver. It was the finestthread I could imagine, only a thousandth of a millimeter indiameter, far too tenuous to be seen. Three feet further away wasa camera with a moving plate holder which carried a sensitizedphotographic plate. Its movement was regulated by a big fly-wheelat the extreme right. 

"You see, " remarked Garrick, now engrossed on the apparatus andforgetting the hammer evidence for the time, "the beam of lightfocussed on that fine thread in the galvanometer passes to thisphotographic plate. It is intercepted by the five spindles of thewheel, which turns once a second, thus marking the picture off inexact fifths of a second. The vibrations of the thread areenormously magnified on the plate by a lens and produce a seriesof wavy or zigzag lines. I have shielded the sensitized plate by awooden hood which permits no light to strike it except the slenderray that is doing the work. The plate moves across the fieldslowly, its speed regulated by the fly-wheel. Don't you think itis neat and delicate? All these movements are produced by one ofthe finest little electric motors I ever saw. "

I could not get the idea of the revolvers out of my head soquickly. I agreed with him, but all I could find to say was, "Doyou think there was more than this one whom they call the Chiefengaged in the shootings?"

"I can't say absolutely anything more than I have told you, yet, "he answered in a tone that seemed to discourage furtherquestioning along that line. 

He continued to work on the delicate apparatus with its threadstretched between the stationary magnets of the galvanometer, athread so delicate that it might have been spun by a microscopicspider, so light that no scales made by human hands could weighit, so slender that the mind could hardly grasp it. It was aboutone-third the diameter of a red corpuscle of blood and its weighthad been estimated as about . 00685 milligrams, truly a fairythread. It was finer than the most delicate cobweb and could beseen with the naked eye only when a strong light was thrown on itso as to catch the reflection. 

"All I can say is, " he admitted, "that the bullets which committedthis horrible series of crimes have been proven all to be shotfrom the same gun, presumably, I think I shall show, by the samehand, and that hand is the same that wrote the blackmailingletter. "

"Whose gun was it?" I asked. "Was there a way to connect it andthe bullets and the cartridges with the owner--four things, allseparated--and then that owner with the curious and tragicsuccession of events that had marked the case since the theft ofWarrington's car?"

Garrick had apparently completed his present work of adjusting thedelicate apparatus. He was now engaged on another piece which alsohad a powerful light in it and an attachment which bore a strongresemblance to a horn. 

He paused a moment, regarding me quizzically. "I think you'll findit sufficiently novel to warrant your coming, Tom, " he added. "Ihave already invited Dillon and his man, Herman, over thetelephone just before you came in. McBirney will be there, andForbes, of course. He'll have to come, if I want him. By the way, I wish you'd get in touch with Warrington and see how he is. If itis all right, tell him that I'd like to have him escort MissWinslow and her aunt here, to-night. Meanwhile I shall find outhow our friend the Boss is getting on. He ought to be here, at anycost, and I've put it off until to-night to make sure that he'llbe in fit condition to come. To-night at nine--here in thisoffice--remember, " he concluded gayly. "In the meantime, not aword to anybody about what you have seen here this afternoon. "

CHAPTER XXV

THE SCIENTIFIC GUNMAN

Our little audience arrived one by one, and, as master ofceremonies, it fell to me to greet them and place them as much atease as the natural tension of the occasion would permit. Garrickspoke a word or two to each, but was still busy putting thefinishing touches on the preparations for the "entertainment, " ashe called it facetiously, which he had arranged. 

"Before I put to the test a rather novel combination which I havearranged, " began Garrick, when they had all been seated, "I wantto say a few words about some of the discoveries I have alreadymade in this remarkable case. "

He paused a moment to make sure that he had our attention, but itwas unnecessary. We were all hanging eagerly on his words. 

"There is, I believe, " he resumed slowly, "no crime that is everwithout a clew. The slightest trace, even a drop of blood nolarger than a pin-head, may suffice to convict a murderer. So maya single hair found on the clothing of a suspect. In this case, "he added quickly, "it is the impression made by the hammer of apistol on the shell of a cartridge which leads unescapably to oneconclusion. "

The idea was so startling that we followed Garrick's every word asif weighted with tremendous importance, as indeed it was in theclearing up of this mysterious affair. 

"I have made a collection from time to time, " he pursued, "of thevarious exploded cartridges, the bullets, and the weapons leftbehind by the perpetrator of the dastardly series of crimes, fromthe shooting of the stool pigeon of the police, Rena Taylor, andthe stealing of Mr. Warrington's car, down to the peculiar eventsof last night up in the Ramapos and the running fight through thestreets of New York in taxicabs this morning. 

"I have studied this evidence with the microscope and themicrophotographic apparatus. I have secured excellentmicrophotographs of the marks made by various weapons on thecartridges and bullets. Taking those used in the commission of thegreater crimes in this series, I find that the marks are the same, apparently, whether the gun shot off a bullet of wax or tallowwhich became liquid in the body, whether it discharged astupefying gas, or whether the deadly anaesthetic bullet wasfired. I have obtained a gun"--he threw it on the table with aclang--"the marks from the hammer of which correspond with themarks made on all the cartridges I have mentioned. One personowned that gun and used it. That is proved. It remains only toconnect that gun positively and definitely, as a last link, withthat person. "

I noticed with a start that the revolver still had a stout cordtied to it. 

As he concluded, Garrick had begun fitting a curious little deviceto each of our forearms. It looked to me like an electrodeconsisting of large plates of German silver, covered with felt andsaturated with salt solution. From each electrode wires ran acrossthe floor to some hidden apparatus. 

"Back of this screen, " he went on, indicating it in the corner ofthe room, "I have placed what is known as the string galvanometer, invented, or, perhaps better, perfected by Dr. Einthoven, ofLeyden. It was designed primarily for the study of the beating ofthe heart in cases of disease, but it also may be used to recordand study emotions as well, --love and hate, fear, joy, anger, remorse, all are revealed by this uncanny, cold, ruthlesslyscientific instrument. 

"The machine is connected by wires to each of you, and will makewhat are called electrocardiographs, in which every emotion, everysentiment, every passion is recorded inevitably, inexorably. For, the electric current that passes from each of you to the machineover these wires carrying the record of the secrets of your heartsis one of the feeblest currents known to science. Yet it can becaught and measured. The dynamo which generates this current isnot a huge affair of steel castings and endless windings of copperwire. It is merely the heart of the sitter. 

"The heart makes only one three-thousandth of a volt ofelectricity at each beat. It would take thousands of hearts tolight one electric light, hundreds of thousands to run one trolleycar. Yet just that slight little current from the heart is enoughto sway a gossamer strand of quartz fibre in what I may call my'heart station' here. This current, as I have told you, passesfrom each of you over a wire and vibrates a fine quartz fibre inunison with it, one of the most delicate bits of mechanism evermade, recording the result on a photographic film by means of abeam of light reflected from a delicate mirror. "

We sat spellbound as Garrick unfolded the dreadful, awe-inspiringpossibilities of the machine behind the screen. He walked slowlyto the back of the room. 

"Now, here I have one of the latest of the inventions of theWizard of West Orange--Edison, " he resumed. "It is, as you perhapshave already guessed, the latest product of this genius of soundand sight, the kinetophone, the machine that combines movingpictures with the talking machine. "

A stranger stepped in from an outer office. He was the skilledoperator of the kinetophone, whom Garrick had hired. In a fewterse sentences he explained that back of a curtain which hepulled down before us was a phonograph with a megaphone, that fromhis booth behind us he operated the picture films, and that thetwo were absolutely synchronized. 

A moment later a picture began to move on the screen. Sounds andvoices seemed to emerge as if from the very screen itself. There, before us, we saw a gambling joint operating in full blast. It wasnot the Forty-eighth Street resort. But it was stronglyreminiscent of it. From the talking machine proceeded all thenoises familiar to such a scene. 

Garrick had moved behind the screen that cut off our view of thegalvanometer. One after another, he was studying the emotions ofeach of his audience. 

Suddenly the scene changed. A door was burst in, cards andgambling paraphernalia were scattered about and hidden, men rushedto escape, and the sounds were much like those on the night of theraid. Garrick was still engrossed in the study of what thegalvanometer was showing. 

The film stopped. Without warning, the operator started another. It was a group of men and women playing cards. A man entered, andengaged in conversation with one of the women who was playing. They left the room. 

The next scene was in an entirely different room. But theconnection which was implied with the last scene was obvious. Different actors entered the room, a man and a woman. There was adispute--there was a crack of a revolver--and the woman fell. People rushed in. Everything was done to hide the crime. The girlwas carried out into a waiting automobile, propped in as ifovercome by alcohol and whisked away. I found myself almostlooking to see if the car was of the make of Warrington's, sogreat was the impression the scene made on me. Of course it wasnot, but it all seemed so real that one might be pardoned forexpecting the impossible, especially when her body was thrown, with many a muttered imprecation, by the roadside, and in the lastpicture the man was cleaning the exploded gun. One single stillpicture followed. It was a huge, enlarged cartridge. 

I followed the thing with eager eyes and ears. From a long list ofcanned and reeled plays, Garrick had selected here and there suchscenes and acts as, interspersed with a few single, originalpictures of his own, like the cartridge, would serve best torecapitulate the very case which we had been investigating. Itcarried me along step by step, wonderfully. 

Another moving and talking picture was under way. This time itseemed to be a race between two automobiles. They were tearingalong, and the sound of the rapidly working cylinders was mostreal. The rearmost was rapidly overhauling that in front. Imagineour surprise as it crept up on the other to see the driver rise, whip out a pistol, and fire point blank at the other as he dashedahead, and the picture stopped. 

A suppressed scream escaped Violet Winslow. It was too much likewhat had happened to Mortimer Warrington for her to repress theshudder that swept over her, and an involuntary movement towardhim to make sure that it was not real. 

Still Garrick did not move from his post at the galvanometer. Hewas taking no chances. He had us thrilled, tense, and he meant totake advantage to the full in reading the truth in the dramaticsituation he had so skilfully created. 

Another picture started almost on the heels of the last. It was ofthe robbery of a safe. Then came another, a firebug at work instarting a conflagration. We could hear the crackling of flames, the shouts of the people, the clang of bells, and the hasty treadof the firemen as they advanced and put out the blaze. The filmplay was one of those which never fail to attract, where themakers had gone to the utmost extent of realism and had actuallyset fire to a house to get the true effect. 

The next was a scene from a detective play, pure and simple, inwhich that marvellous little instrument which had served us insuch good stead in this case was played up strongly, thedetectaphone. Then followed a scene from another play in which ayoung girl was kidnapped and rescued by her lover just in the nickof time. Nothing could have been selected to arouse the feelingsof the little audience to a higher pitch. 

The last of the series, which I knew was to be a climax, was notan American picture. It was quite evidently made in Paris and wasfrom actual life. I myself had been startled when the title wasannounced by the voice and on the screen simultaneously, "TheSiege of the Motor Bandits by the Paris Police. "

It was terrific. It began with the shouts of the crowd urging onthe police, the crack of revolvers and guns from a little house orgarage in the suburbs, the advance and retreat of the gendarmes onthe stronghold. Back and forth the battle waged. One could hearthe sharp orders of the police, the shrill taunts of the bandits, the sounds of battle. 

Then at a point where the bandits seemed to have beaten off theattack successfully, there came an automobile. From it I could seethe police take an object which I now knew must be a Mathiot gun. The huge thing was set up and carefully aimed. Then with a dullroar it was fired. 

We could see the bomb hurtling through the air, see it strike thelittle house with a cloud of smoke and dust, hear the report ofthe explosion, the shouts of dismay of the bandits--then silence. A cry went up from the crowd as the police now pressed forward ina mass and rushed into the house, disclosing the last scene--inwhich the bandits were suffocated. 

The film suddenly stopped. Garrick's office, which had beenringing with firearms and shouts from the kinetophone, was againsilent. It was an impressive silence, too. No one of us but hadfelt and lived the whole case over again in the brief time thatthe talking movies had been shown. 

The lights flashed up, and before we realised that the thing wasover, Garrick was standing before us, holding in his hand a longsheet of paper. The look on his face told plainly that his novelexperiment had succeeded. 

"I may say, " he began, still studying the paper in his hand, although I knew he must have arrived at his conclusion already orhe would never have quitted his "heart station, " so soon, "I maysay that some time ago a letter was sent to Miss Winslowpurporting to reveal some of Mr. Warrington's alleged connectionsand escapades. It is needless to say that as far as theaccusations were concerned he was able to meet them all adequatelyand, as for the innuendoes, they were pure baseless fabrications. The sender was urged on to do it by someone else who also had aninterest of another kind in placing Mr. Warrington in a bad lightwith Miss Winslow. But the sender soon realised his mistake. Thefact that he was willing to go to the length of a dangerousrobbery accompanied by arson in order to get back or destroy theletter showed how afraid he was to have a sample of hishandwriting fall into my hands. He blundered, but even then he didnot realise how badly. 

"For, in certain cases the handwriting shows a great deal morethan would be recognised even by the ordinary handwriting expert. This letter showed that the writer was, as I have alreadyexplained to Mr. Marshall, the victim of a peculiar kind ofparalysis which begins to show itself in nerve tremours for daysbefore the attack and exhibits itself even in the handwriting. 

"Now, my string galvanometer shows not only the effects of thesemoving and talking pictures on the emotions, but also, as it wasreally designed to do, the state of the heart with reference tonormality. It shows to me plainly the effect of disease on theheart, even if it is latent in the subject. While I have beenusing the psychological law of suggestion, and have beenrecapitulating as well as I was able under the circumstances thewhole story of the crime briefly in moving and talking pictures, Ihave found, in addition, that the same heart which shows theemotions I expected also shows the disease which I discovered inthe blackmailing letter. 

"There was surprise at the sight of the gambling den, rage at theraid, fear at the murder of the girl in the other den and thedisposal of her body, excitement over the racing motor cars, passion over the kidnapping of the girl, anger over the littledetectaphone, and panic at the siege of the bandits, as I showedby the selection of the films that I was getting closer and closerto the truth. And there was the same abnormality of the heartexhibited throughout. "

Garrick paused. I scarcely breathed, nor did I move my eyes, whichwere riveted on his face. What was he going to reveal next? Was hegoing to accuse someone in the room?

"Mr. Marshall, " he resumed with a smile toward me, "I am glad tosay is quite normal and innocent of all wrongdoing--in thisinstance, " he added with a momentary flash of humour. "Commissioner Dillon also passes muster. Mr. Warrington--I shallcome back to, later. "

I thought Violet Winslow gave a little, startled gasp. She turnedtoward him, anyhow, and I saw that not even science now couldshake her faith in him. 

"Mr. Forbes, " he continued, speaking rapidly as I bent forward tocatch every word, "incriminated himself quite sufficiently inconnection with the gambling joint, the raid and the slanderousletter, so that I should advise him when this case comes to trialto tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth about hishelping a gunman in order to further what proved a hopeless loveaffair on his own part. Here, too, is a little vest-pocket gunthat was found under such circumstances as would be likely toconnect Forbes in the popular mind with the shootings. "

"My lawyer has my statement about that. I'll read--"

"No, Forbes, " interrupted Garrick. "You needn't read. Your lawyermay be interested to add this to the statement, however. A pistolthat has been shot off has potassium sulphide from the powder inthe barrel. Later, it oxidizes and iron oxide is found. Thisweapon has neither the sulphide nor the oxide, as far as I candetermine. It has never even been discharged. No, it was not thepistol found on Forbes that figured in this case. 

"As far as that new-fangled gun goes, Forbes, it was a frame-up. You were kidnapped by a man whom you thought was your friend, andit was done for a purpose. He knew the situation you were in, yourjealousy--I won't dwell on that here. He held you at the house upin the valley. You told the truth about that. He did it, the manwho wrote the letter, because he hoped ultimately to shift all theguilt on you and himself go scot-free. "

Forbes stared dumbly. I knew he had known what was coming but hadheld back for fear of what he knew had always happened toinformers in the circle to which he had sunk. 

"McBirney, " continued Garrick, "your emotions, mostlyastonishment, show that you have much to learn in this newbusiness of modern detection, besides the recovery of stolencars. "

Garrick had paused for effect again. 

"And now we come to the keeper of a nighthawk garage on the WestSide, a man whom they seem to call the Boss. That is gettinghigher up. I find that he points, according to this scientificthird degree, to one whom I have for a long time suspected--"

A dull thud startled us. 

I turned. A man was lying, face down, on the floor. 

Before any of us could reach him, Garrick concluded, "This is theman who framed up the case against Forbes, who stole Warrington'scar to use to get rid of the body of the informer, Rena Taylor, because she by her success interfered with his gambling graft, whowrote the letter to Miss Winslow to injure Warrington because he, too, was interfering with his graft collection from the gamblinghouse by threatening to close it up. He committed the arson tocover up his identity by getting back the letter; he planned andnearly executed the kidnapping of Miss Winslow in order to hold upWarrington, and then hid in the country where we ferreted him out, not far from the very scene of a murderous attack on Warringtonfor his brave stand in suppressing gambling--from which this manwas weekly shaking down a huge profit as the price of policeprotection of the vice. "

Garrick was kneeling by the prostrate form now, not so much theaccuser as the scientist, studying a new phase of crime. 

The threatened paralysis had struck Inspector Herman sooner thaneven Garrick had expected. 

When we had made Herman as comfortable as we could, Garrick addedto Dillon, who stood over us, speechless, "You had under you oneof the strong links in the secret system of police protection ofvice and crime, and you never knew it--the greatest grafter andscientific gunman that I ever knew. It has been a long, hardfight. But I have the goods on him at last. "

The exposure was startling in the extreme. Herman had gained forhimself the reputation of being one of the shrewdest and mostefficient men in the department. But he had felt the lure ofgraft. With the aid of the gamblers and unscrupulous politicianshe had built up a huge, secret machine for collection of theprofits from the sale of police protection against the enforcementof the law he was sworn to uphold. 

He had begun to mix with doubtful characters. But he was a geniusand had become, by degrees, the worst of the gangmen and gunmenwho ever operated in the metropolis. Detailed to catch thegamblers and gangsters, with official power to do almost as hepleased, he had enjoyed a fine holiday and employed his leisureboth for new crimes and in covering up so successfully his tracksin the old ones, even with Garrick on his trail, that he had beenable to completely hoodwink his superior, Dillon, by his long, detailed reports which sounded very convincing but which reallymeant nothing. 

As the strange truth of the case was established by Garrick, Dillon was the most amazed of us all. He had trusted Herman, andthe revulsion of feeling was overwhelming. 

"And to think, " he exclaimed, in disgust, "that I actually placedhis own case in his own hands, with carte blanche instructions togo ahead. No wonder he never produced a clew that amounted toanything. Well, I'll be--"

Words failed him, as he looked down and glared savagely at the manin silence. 

All were now crowding around Garrick eager to thank him for whathe had done. As Warrington, now almost his former hearty wholesomeself again, grasped Garrick's hand in the heartiness of histhanks, Garrick, with the electrocardiogram paper still in hisother hand, smiled. 

He released himself and turned to touch the dainty little hand ofViolet Winslow, whose eyes were so full of happy tears that shecould scarcely speak. 

"Miss Winslow, " he beamed, gazing earnestly and admiringly intoher sweet face, "I promised to attend to the case of that manlater, --" he added, with a nod at Warrington. "It may interest youto know scientifically what you already know by something that isgreater than science, a woman's intuition. "

She blushed as he added, "Mr. Warrington has a good, strong, healthy heart. He wouldn't be alive to-day if he hadn't. But, morethan that, I have observed throughout the evening that he hashardly taken his eyes off you. Even the 'talkies' and the 'movies'failed to stir him until the kidnapping scene overwhelmed him. Here on this strip of paper I have a billet-doux. His heartregisters the current that only that consummate electrician, little Dan Cupid, can explain. "