THE CRAIG KENNEDY SERIES

THE EXPLOITS OF ELAINE

BY

ARTHUR B. REEVE

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I THE CLUTCHING HAND

 II THE TWILIGHT SLEEP

 III THE VANISHING JEWELS

 IV "THE FROZEN SAFE"

 V THE POISONED ROOM

 VI THE VAMPIRE

 VII THE DOUBLE TRAP

VIII THE HIDDEN VOICE

 IX THE DEATH RAY

 X THE LIFE CURRENT

 XI THE HOUR OF THREE

 XII THE BLOOD CRYSTALS

XIII THE DEVIL WORSHIPPERS

 XIV THE RECKONING

THE EXPLOITS OF ELAINE

CHAPTER I

THE CLUTCHING HAND

"Jameson, here's a story I wish you'd follow up, " remarked themanaging editor of the Star to me one evening after I had turnedin an assignment of the late afternoon. 

He handed me a clipping from the evening edition of the Star and Iquickly ran my eye over the headline:

 "THE CLUTCHING HAND" WINS AGAIN

 NEW YORK'S MYSTERIOUS MASTER CRIMINAL PERFECTS ANOTHER COUP

 CITY POLICE COMPLETELY BAFFLED

"Here's this murder of Fletcher, the retired banker and trustee ofthe University, " he explained. "Not a clue--except a warningletter signed with this mysterious clutching fist. Last week itwas the robbery of the Haxworth jewels and the killing of oldHaxworth. Again that curious sign of the hand. Then there was thedastardly attempt on Sherburne, the steel magnate. Not a trace ofthe assailant except this same clutching fist. So it has gone, Jameson--the most alarming and most inexplicable series of murdersthat has ever happened in this country. And nothing but thisuncanny hand to trace them by. "

The editor paused a moment, then exclaimed, "Why, this fellowseems to take a diabolical--I might almost say pathological--pleasure in crimes of violence, revenge, avarice and self-protection. Sometimes it seems as if he delights in the puredeviltry of the thing. It is weird. "

He leaned over and spoke in a low, tense tone. "Strangest of all, the tip has just come to us that Fletcher, Haxworth, Sherburne andall the rest of those wealthy men were insured in the ConsolidatedMutual Life. Now, Jameson, I want you to find Taylor Dodge, thepresident, and interview him. Get what you can, at any cost. "

I had naturally thought first of Kennedy, but there was no timenow to call him up and, besides, I must see Dodge immediately. 

Dodge, I discovered over the telephone, was not at home, nor atany of the clubs to which he belonged. Late though it was Iconcluded that he was at his office. No amount of persuasion couldget me past the door, and, though I found out later and shall tellsoon what was going on there, I determined, about nine o'clock, that the best way to get at Dodge was to go to his house on FifthAvenue, if I had to camp on his front doorstep until morning. Theharder I found the story to get, the more I wanted it. 

With some misgivings about being admitted, I rang the bell of thesplendid, though not very modern, Dodge residence. An Englishbutler, with a nose that must have been his fortune, opened thedoor and gravely informed me that Mr. Dodge was not at home, butwas expected at any moment. 

Once in, I was not going lightly to give up that advantage. Ibethought myself of his daughter, Elaine, one of the most populardebutantes of the season, and sent in my card to her, on a chanceof interesting her and seeing her father, writing on the bottom ofthe card: "Would like to interview Mr. Dodge regarding ClutchingHand. "

Summoning up what assurance I had, which is sometimesconsiderable, I followed the butler down the hall as he bore mycard. As he opened the door of the drawing room I caught a visionof a slip of a girl, in an evening gown. 

Elaine Dodge was both the ingenue and the athlete--the thoroughlymodern type of girl--equally at home with tennis and tango, tabletalk and tea. Vivacious eyes that hinted at a stunning amber brownsparkled beneath masses of the most wonderful auburn hair. Herpearly teeth, when she smiled, were marvellous. And she smiledoften, for life to her seemed a continuous film of enjoyment. 

Near her I recognized from his pictures, Perry Bennett, the risingyoung corporation lawyer, a mighty good looking fellow, with anaffable, pleasing way about him, perhaps thirty-five years old orso, but already prominent and quite friendly with Dodge. 

On a table I saw a book, as though Elaine had cast it down whenthe lawyer arrived to call on the daughter under pretense ofwaiting for her father. Crumpled on the table was the Star. Theyhad read the story. 

"Who is it, Jennings?" she asked. 

"A reporter, Miss Dodge, " answered the butler glancingsuperciliously back at me, "and you know how your father dislikesto see anyone here at the house, " he added deferentially to her. 

I took in the situation at a glance. Bennett was trying not tolook discourteous, but this was a call on Elaine and it had beeninterrupted. I could expect no help from that quarter. Still, Ifancied that Elaine was not averse to trying to pique her visitorand determined at least to try it. 

"Miss Dodge, " I pleaded, bowing as if I had known them all mylife, "I've been trying to find your father all the evening. It'svery important. "

She looked up at me surprised and in doubt whether to laugh orstamp her pretty little foot in indignation at my stupendousnerve. 

She laughed. "You are a very brave young man, " she replied with aroguish look at Bennett's discomfiture over the interruption ofthe tete-a-tete. 

There was a note of seriousness in it, too, that made me askquickly, "Why?"

The smile flitted from her face and in its place came a frankearnest expression which I later learned to like and respect verymuch. "My father has declared he will eat the very next reporterwho tries to interview him here, " she answered. 

I was about to prolong the waiting time by some jolly about such astunning girl not having by any possibility such a cannibal of aparent, when the rattle of the changing gears of a car outsidetold of the approach of a limousine. 

The big front door opened and Elaine flung herself in the arms ofan elderly, stern-faced, gray-haired man. "Why, Dad, " she cried, "where have you been? I missed you so much at dinner. I'll be soglad when this terrible business gets cleared up. Tell--me. Whatis on your mind? What is it that worries you now?"

I noticed then that Dodge seemed wrought-up and a bit unnerved, for he sank rather heavily into a chair, brushed his face with hishandkerchief and breathed heavily. Elaine hovered over himsolicitously, repeating her question. 

With a mighty effort he seemed to get himself together. He roseand turned to Bennett. 

"Perry, " he exclaimed, "I've got the Clutching Hand!"

The two men stared at each other. 

"Yes, " continued Dodge, "I've just found out how to trace it, andtomorrow I am going to set the alarms of the city at rest byexposing--"

Just then Dodge caught sight of me. For the moment I thoughtperhaps he was going to fulfill his threat. 

"Who the devil--why didn't you tell me a reporter was here, Jennings?" he sputtered indignantly, pointing toward the door. 

Argument, entreaty were of no avail. He stamped crustily into thelibrary, taking Bennett with him and leaving me with Elaine. Inside I could hear them talking, and managed to catch enough topiece together the story. I wanted to stay, but Elaine, smiling atmy enthusiasm, shook her head and held out her hand in one of herfrank, straight-arm hand shakes. There was nothing to do but go. 

At least, I reflected, I had the greater part of the story--allexcept the one big thing, however, --the name of the criminal. ButDodge would know him tomorrow!

I hurried back to the Star to write my story in time to catch thelast morning edition. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Meanwhile, if I may anticipate my story, I must tell of what welater learned had happened to Dodge so completely to upset him. 

Ever since the Consolidated Mutual had been hit by the murders, hehad had many lines out in the hope of enmeshing the perpetrator. That night, as I found out the next day, he had at last heard of aclue. One of the company's detectives had brought in a red-headed, lame, partly paralyzed crook who enjoyed the expressive monnikerof "Limpy Red. " "Limpy Red" was a gunman of some renown, evilfaced and having nothing much to lose, desperate. Whoever themaster criminal of the Clutching Hand might have been he had seenfit to employ Limpy but had not taken the precaution of gettingrid of him soon enough when he was through. 

Wherefore Limpy had a grievance and now descended under pressureto the low level of snitching to Dodge in his office. 

"No, Governor, " the trembling wretch had said as he handed over agrimy envelope, "I ain't never seen his face--but here isdirections how to find his hang-out. "

As Limpy ambled out, he turned to Dodge, quivering at the enormityof his unpardonable sin in gang-land, "For God's sake, Governor, "he implored, "don't let on how you found out!"

And yet Limpy Red had scarcely left with his promise not to tell, when Dodge, happening to turn over some papers came upon anenvelope left on his own desk, bearing that mysterious ClutchingHand!

He tore it open, and read in amazement:

"Destroy Limpy Red's instructions within the next hour. "

Dodge gazed about in wonder. This thing was getting on his nerves. He determined to go home and rest. 

Outside the house, as he left his car, pasted over the monogram onthe door, he had found another note, with the same weird mark andthe single word:

"Remember!"

Much of this I had already gathered from what I overheard Dodgetelling Bennett as they entered the library. Some, also, I havepieced together from the story of a servant who overheard. 

At any rate, in spite of the pleadings of young Bennett, Dodgerefused to take warning. In the safe in his beautifully fittedlibrary he deposited Limpy's document in an envelope containingall the correspondence that had lead up to the final step in thediscovery. 

 . . . . . . . . 

It was late in the evening when I returned to our apartment and, not finding Kennedy there, knew that I would discover him at thelaboratory. 

"Craig, " I cried as I burst in on him, "I've got a case for you--greater than any ever before!"

Kennedy looked up calmly from the rack of scientific instrumentsthat surrounded him, test tubes, beakers, carefully labelledbottles. 

He had been examining a piece of cloth and had laid it aside indisappointment near his magnifying glass. Just now he was watchinga reaction in a series of test tubes standing on his table. He waslooking dejectedly at the floor as I came in. 

"Indeed?" he remarked coolly going back to the reaction. 

"Yes, " I cried. "It is a scientific criminal who seems to leave noclues. "

Kennedy looked up gravely. "Every criminal leaves a trace, " hesaid quietly. "If it hasn't been found, then it must be because noone has ever looked for it in the right way. "

Still gazing at me keenly, he added, "Yes, I already knew therewas such a man at large. I have been called in on that Fletchercase--he was a trustee of the University, you know. "

"All right, " I exclaimed, a little nettled that he should haveanticipated me even so much in the case. "But you haven't heardthe latest. "

"What is it?" he asked with provoking calmness, "Taylor Dodge, " I blurted out, "has the clue. To-morrow he willtrack down the man!"

Kennedy fairly jumped as I repeated the news. 

"How long has he known?" he demanded eagerly. 

"Perhaps three or four hours, " I hazarded. 

Kennedy gazed at me fixedly. 

"Then Taylor Dodge is dead!" he exclaimed, throwing off his acid-stained laboratory smock and hurrying into his street clothes. 

"Impossible!" I ejaculated. 

Kennedy paid no attention to the objection. "Come, Walter, " heurged. "We must hurry, before the trail gets cold. "

There was something positively uncanny about Kennedy's assurance. I doubted--yet I feared. 

It was well past the middle of the night when we pulled up in anight-hawk taxicab before the Dodge house, mounted the steps andrang the bell. 

Jennings answered sleepily, but not so much so that he did notrecognize me. He was about to bang the door shut when Kennedyinterposed his foot. 

"Where is Mr. Dodge?" asked Kennedy. "Is he all right?"

"Of course he is--in bed, " replied the butler. 

Just then we heard a faint cry, like nothing exactly human. Or wasit our heightened imaginations, under the spell of the darkness?

"Listen!" cautioned Kennedy. 

We did, standing there now in the hall. Kennedy was the only oneof us who was cool. Jennings' face blanched, then he turnedtremblingly and went down to the library door whence the soundshad seemed to come. 

He called but there was no answer. He turned the knob and openedthe door. The Dodge library was a large room. In the center stooda big flat-topped desk of heavy mahogany. It was brilliantlylighted. 

At one end of the desk was a telephone. Taylor Dodge was lying onthe floor at that end of the desk--perfectly rigid--his facedistorted--a ghastly figure. A pet dog ran over, sniffedfrantically at his master's legs and suddenly began to howldismally. 

Dodge was dead!

"Help!" shouted Jennings. 

Others of the servants came rushing in. There was for the momentthe greatest excitement and confusion. 

Suddenly a wild figure in flying garments flitted down the stairsand into the library, dropping beside the dead man, withoutseeming to notice us at all. 

"Father!" shrieked a woman's voice, heart broken. "Father! Oh--myGod--he--he is dead!"

It was Elaine Dodge. 

With a mighty effort, the heroic girl seemed to pull herselftogether. 

"Jennings, " she cried, "Call Mr. Bennett--immediately!"

From the one-sided, excited conversation of the butler over thetelephone, I gathered that Bennett had been in the process ofdisrobing in his own apartment uptown and would be right down. 

Together, Kennedy, Elaine and myself lifted Dodge to a sofa andElaine's aunt, Josephine, with whom she lived, appeared on thescene, trying to quiet the sobbing girl. 

Kennedy and I withdrew a little way and he looked about curiously. 

"What was it?" I whispered. "Was it natural, an accident, or--ormurder?"

The word seemed to stick in my throat. If it was a murder, whatwas the motive? Could it have been to get the evidence which Dodgehad that would incriminate the master criminal?

Kennedy moved over quietly and examined the body of Dodge. When herose, his face had a peculiar look. 

"Terrible!" he whispered to me. "Apparently he had been working athis accustomed place at the desk when the telephone rang. He roseand crossed over to it. See! That brought his feet on thisregister let into the floor. As he took the telephone receiverdown a flash of light must have shot from it to his ear. It showsthe characteristic electric burn. "

"The motive?" I queried. 

"Evidently his pockets had been gone through, though none of thevaluables were missing. Things on his desk show that a hastysearch has been made. "

Just then the door opened and Bennett burst in. 

As he stood over the body, gazing down at it, repressing theemotions of a strong man, he turned to Elaine and in a low voice, exclaimed, "The Clutching Hand did this! I shall consecrate mylife to bring this man to justice!"

He spoke tensely and Elaine, looking up into his face, as ifimploring his help in her hour of need, unable to speak, merelygrasped his hand. 

Kennedy, who in the meantime had stood apart from the rest of us, was examining the telephone carefully. 

"A clever crook, " I heard him mutter between his teeth. "He musthave worn gloves. Not a finger print--at least here. "

 . . . . . . . . 

Perhaps I can do no better than to reconstruct the crime asKennedy later pieced these startling events together. 

Long after I had left and even after Bennett left, Dodge continuedworking in his library, for he was known as a prodigious worker. 

Had he taken the trouble, however, to pause and peer out into themoonlight that flooded the back of his house, he might have seenthe figures of two stealthy crooks crouching in the half shadowsof one of the cellar windows. 

One crook was masked by a handkerchief drawn tightly about hislower face, leaving only his eyes visible beneath the cap withvisor pulled down over his forehead. He had a peculiar stoop ofthe shoulders and wore his coat collar turned up. One hand, theright, seemed almost deformed. It was that which gave him his namein the underworld--the Clutching Hand. 

The masked crook held carefully the ends of two wires attached toan electric feed, and sending his pal to keep watch outside, heentered the cellar of the Dodge house through a window whose panethey had carefully removed. As he came through the window hedragged the wires with him, and, alter a moment's reconnoiteringattached them to the furnace pipe of the old-fashioned hot-airheater where the pipe ran up through the floor to the libraryabove. The other wire was quickly attached to the telephone whereits wires entered. 

Upstairs, Dodge, evidently uneasy in his mind about the precious"Limpy Red" letter, took it from the safe along with most of theother correspondence and, pressing a hidden spring in the wall, opened a secret panel, placed most of the important documents inthis hiding place. Then he put some blank sheets of paper in anenvelope and returned it to the safe. 

Downstairs the masked master criminal had already attached avoltmeter to the wires he had installed, waiting. 

Just then could be heard the tinkle of Dodge's telephone and theold man rose to answer it. As he did so he placed his foot on theiron register, his hand taking the telephone and the receiver. Atthat instant came a powerful electric flash. Dodge sank on thefloor grasping the instrument, electrocuted. Below, the mastercriminal could scarcely refrain from exclaiming with satisfactionas his voltmeter registered the powerful current that was passing. 

A moment later the criminal slid silently into Dodge's room. Carefully putting on rubber gloves and avoiding touching theregister, he wrenched the telephone from the grasp of the deadman, replacing it in its normal position. Only for a second did hepause to look at his victim as he destroyed the evidence of hiswork. 

Minutes were precious. First Dodge's pockets, then his deskengaged his attention. There was left the safe. 

As he approached the strong box, the master criminal took twovials from his pockets. Removing a bust of Shakespeare that stoodon the safe, he poured the contents of the vials in two mixedmasses of powder forming a heap on the safe, into which heinserted two magnesium wires. 

He lighted them, sprang back, hiding his eyes from the light, anda blinding gush of flame, lasting perhaps ten seconds, poured outfrom the top of the safe. 

It was not an explosion, but just a dazzling, intense flame thatsizzled and crackled. It seemed impossible, but the glowing masswas literally sinking, sinking down into the cold steel. At lastit burned through--as if the safe had been of tinder!

Without waiting a moment longer than necessary, the maskedcriminal advanced again and actually put his hand down through thetop of the safe, pulling out a bunch of papers. Quickly he thrustthem all, with just a glance, into his pocket. 

Still working quickly, he took the bust of the great dramatistwhich he had removed and placed it under the light. Next from hispocket he drew two curious stencils, as it were, which he hadapparently carefully prepared. With his hands, still carefullygloved, he rubbed the stencils on his hair, as if to cover themwith a film of natural oils. Then he deliberately pressed themover the statue in several places. It was a peculiar action and heseemed to fairly gloat over it when it was done, and the bustreturned to its place, covering the hole. 

As noiselessly as he had come, he made his exit after one lastmalignant look at Dodge. It was now but the work of a moment toremove the wires he had placed, and climb out of the window, taking them and destroying the evidence down in the cellar. 

A low whistle from the masked crook, now again in the shadow, brought his pal stealthily to his side. 

"It's all right, " he whispered hoarsely to the man. "Now, youattend to Limpy Red. "

The villainous looking pal nodded and without another word the twomade their getaway, safely, in opposite directions. 

 . . . . . . . . 

When Limpy Red, still trembling, left the office of Dodge earlierin the evening, he had repaired as fast as his shambling feetwould take him to his favorite dive upon Park Row. There he mighthave been seen drinking with any one who came along, for Limpy hadmoney--blood money, --and the recollection of his treachery andrevenge must both be forgotten and celebrated. 

Had the Bowery "sinkers" not got into his eyes, he might havenoticed among the late revellers, a man who spoke to no one buttook his place nearby at the bar. 

Limpy had long since reached the point of saturation and, lurchingforth from his new found cronies, he sought other fields ofexcitement. Likewise did the newcomer, who bore a strangeresemblance to the look-out who had been stationed outside at theDodge house a scant half hour before. 

What happened later was only a matter of seconds. It came when thehated snitch--for gangdom hates the informer worse than anythingelse dead or alive--had turned a sufficiently dark and desertedcorner. 

A muffled thud, a stifled groan followed as a heavy section oflead pipe wrapped in a newspaper descended on the crass skull ofLimpy. The wielder of the improvised but fatal weapon permittedhimself the luxury of an instant's cruel smile--then vanished intothe darkness leaving another complete job for the coroner and themorgue. 

It was the vengeance of the Clutching Hand--swift, sure, remorseless. 

And yet it had not been a night of complete success for the mastercriminal, as anyone might have seen who could have followed hissinuous route to a place of greater safety. 

Unable to wait longer he pulled the papers he had taken from thesafe from his pocket. His chagrin at finding them to be blankpaper found only one expression of foiled fury--that menacingclutching hand!

 . . . . . . . . 

Kennedy had turned from his futile examination for marks on thetelephone. There stood the safe, a moderate sized strong box butof a modern type. He tried the door. It was locked. There was nota mark on it. The combination had not been tampered with. Nor hadthere been any attempt to "soup" the safe. 

With a quick motion he felt in his pocket as if looking forgloves. Finding none, he glanced about, and seized a pair of tongsfrom beside the grate. With them, in order not to confuse anypossible finger prints on the bust, he lifted it off. I gave agasp of surprise. 

There, in the top of the safe, yawned a gaping hole through whichone could have thrust his arm!

"What is it?" we asked, crowding about him. 

"Thermit, " he replied laconically. 

"Thermit?" I repeated. 

"Yes--a compound of iron oxide and powdered aluminum invented by achemist at Essen, Germany. It gives a temperature of over fivethousand degrees. It will eat its way through the strongeststeel. "

Jennings, his mouth wide open with wonder, advanced to take thebust from Kennedy. 

"No--don't touch it, " he waved him off, laying the bust on thedesk. "I want no one to touch it--don't you see how careful I wasto use the tongs that there might be no question about any cluethis fellow may have left on the marble?"

As he spoke, Craig was dusting over the surface of the bust withsome black powder. 

"Look!" exclaimed Craig suddenly. 

We bent over. The black powder had in fact brought out stronglysome peculiar, more or less regular, black smudges. 

"Finger prints!" I cried excitedly. 

"Yes, " nodded Kennedy, studying them closely. "A clue--perhaps. "

"What--those little marks--a clue?" asked a voice behind us. 

I turned and saw Elaine, looking over our shoulders, fascinated. It was evidently the first time she had realized that Kennedy wasin the room. 

"How can you tell anything by that?'" she asked. 

"Why, easily, " he answered picking up a brass blotting-pad whichlay on the desk. "You see, I place my finger on this weight--so. Idust the powder over the mark--so. You could see it even withoutthe powder on this glass. Do you see those lines? There arevarious types of markings--four general types--and each person'smarkings are different, even if of the same general type--loop, whorl, arch, or composite. "

He continued working as he talked. 

"Your thumb marks, for example, Miss Dodge, are different frommine. Mr. Jameson's are different from both of us. And thisfellow's finger prints are still different. It is mathematicallyimpossible to find two alike in every respect. "

Kennedy was holding the brass blotter near the bust as he talked. 

I shall never forget the look of blank amazement on his face as hebent over closer. 

"My God!" he exclaimed excitedly, "this fellow is a mastercriminal! He has actually made stencils or something of the sorton which by some mechanical process he has actually forged thehitherto infallible finger prints!"

I, too, bent over and studied the marks on the bust and thoseKennedy had made on the blotter to show Elaine. 

THE FINGER PRINTS ON THE BUST WERE KENNEDY'S OWN. 

CHAPTER II

THE TWILIGHT SLEEP

Kennedy had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the solution of themysterious Dodge case. 

Far into the night, after the challenge of the forged fingerprint, he continued at work, endeavoring to extract a clue fromthe meagre evidence--the bit of cloth and trace of poison alreadyobtained from other cases, and now added the strange succession ofevents that surrounded the tragedy we had just witnessed. 

We dropped around at the Dodge house the next morning. Earlythough it was, we found Elaine, a trifle paler but more lovelythan ever, and Perry Bennett themselves vainly endeavoring tosolve the mystery of the Clutching Hand. 

They were at Dodge's desk, she in the big desk chair, he standingbeside her, looking over some papers. 

"There's nothing there, " Bennett was saying as we entered. 

I could not help feeling that he was gazing down at Elaine a bitmore tenderly than mere business warranted. 

"Have you--found anything?" queried Elaine anxiously, turningeagerly to Kennedy. 

"Nothing--yet, " he answered shaking his head, but conveying aquiet idea of confidence in his tone. 

Just then Jennings, the butler, entered, bringing the morningpapers. Elaine seized the Star and hastily opened it. On the firstpage was the story I had telephone down very late in the hope ofcatching a last city edition. 

We all bent over and Craig read aloud:

"CLUTCHING HAND" STILL AT LARGE

NEW YORK'S MASTER CRIMINAL REMAINS UNDETECTED--PERPETRATES NEWDARING MURDER AND ROBBERY OF MILLIONAIRE DODGE

He had scarcely finished reading the brief but alarming news storythat followed and laid the paper on the desk, when a stone camesmashing through the window from the street. 

Startled, we all jumped to our feet. Craig hurried to the window. Not a soul was in sight!

He stooped and picked up the stone. To it was attached a piece ofpaper. Quickly he unfolded it and read:

"Craig Kennedy will give up his search for the "Clutching Hand"--or die!"

Later I recalled that there seemed to be a slight noisedownstairs, as if at the cellar window through which the maskedman had entered the night before. 

In point of fact, one who had been outside at the time mightactually have seen a sinister face at that cellar window, but tous upstairs it was invisible. The face was that of the servant, Michael. 

Without another word Kennedy passed into the drawing room and tookhis hat and coat. Both Elaine and Bennett followed. 

"I'm afraid I must ask you to excuse me--for the present, " Craigapologized. 

Elaine looked at him anxiously. 

"You--you will not let that letter intimidate you?" she pleaded, laying her soft white hand on his arm. "Oh, Mr. Kennedy, " sheadded, bravely keeping back the tears, "avenge him! All the moneyin the world would be too little to pay--if only--"

At the mere mention of money Kennedy's face seemed to cloud, butonly for a moment. He must have felt the confiding pressure of herhand, for as she paused, appealingly, he took her hand in his, bowing slightly over it to look closer into her upturned face. 

"I'll try, " he said simply. 

Elaine did not withdraw her hand as she continued to look up athim. Craig looked at her, as I had never seen him look at a womanbefore in all our long acquaintance. 

"Miss Dodge, " he went on, his voice steady as though he wererepressing something, "I will never take another case until the'Clutching Hand' is captured. "

The look of gratitude she gave him would have been a princelyreward in itself. 

I did not marvel that all the rest of that day and far into thenight Kennedy was at work furiously in his laboratory, studyingthe notes, the texture of the paper, the character of the ink, everything that might perhaps suggest a new lead. It was all, apparently, however, without result. 

 . . . . . . . . 

It was some time after these events that Kennedy, reconstructingwhat had happened, ran across, in a strange way which I need nottire the reader by telling, a Dr. Haynes, head of the HillsideSanitarium for Women, whose story I shall relate substantially aswe received it from his own lips:

It must have been that same night that a distinguished visitordrove up in a cab to our Hillside Sanitarium, rang the bell andwas admitted to my office. I might describe him as a moderatelytall, well-built man with a pleasing way about him. Chieflynoticeable, it seems to me, were his mustache and bushy beard, quite medical and foreign. 

I am, by the way, the superintending physician, and that night Iwas sitting with Dr. Thompson, my assistant, in the officediscussing a rather interesting case, when an attendant came inwith a card and handed it to me. It read simply, "Dr. LudwigReinstrom, Coblenz. "

"Here's that Dr. Reinstrom, Thompson, about whom my friend inGermany wrote the other day, " I remarked, nodding to the attendantto admit Dr. Reinstrom. 

I might explain that while I was abroad some time ago, I made aparticular study of the "Daemmerschlaf"--otherwise, the "twilightsleep, " at Freiburg where it was developed and at other places inGermany where the subject had attracted great attention. I wasmuch impressed and had imported the treatment to Hillside. 

While we waited I reached into my desk and drew out the letter towhich I referred, which ended, I recall:

"As Dr. Reinstrom is in America, he will probably call on you. Iam sure you will be glad to know him. 

"With kindest regards, I am, "Fraternally yours, "EMIL SCHWARZ, M. D. , "Director, Leipsic Institute of Medicine. "

"Most happy to meet you, Dr. Reinstrom, " I greeted the newarrival, as he entered our office. 

For several minutes we sat and chatted of things medical here andabroad. 

"What is it, Doctor, " I asked finally, "that interests you most inAmerica?"

"Oh, " he replied quickly with an expressive gesture, "it is thebroadmindedness with which you adopt the best from all over theworld, regardless of prejudice. For instance, I am very muchinterested in the new twilight sleep. Of course you have borrowedit largely from us, but it interests me to see whether you havemodified it with practice. In fact I have come to the HillsideSanitarium particularly to see it used. Perhaps we may learnsomething from you. "

It was most gracious and both Dr. Thompson and myself were charmedby our visitor. I reached over and touched a call-button and ourhead nurse entered from a rear room. 

"Are there any operations going on now?" I asked. 

She looked mechanically at her watch. "Yes, there are two cases, now, I think, " she answered. 

"Would you like to follow our technique, Doctor?" I asked, turningto Dr. Reinstorm. 

"I should be delighted, " he acquiesced. 

A moment later we passed down the corridor of the Sanitarium, still chatting. At the door of a ward I spoke to the attendant whoindicated that a patient was about to be anesthetized, andReinstrom and I entered the room. 

There, in perfect quiet, which is an essential part of thetreatment, were several women patients lying in bed in the ward. Before us two nurses and a doctor were in attendance on one. 

I spoke to the Doctor, Dr. Holmes, by the way, who bowed politelyto the distinguished Dr. Reinstrom, then turned quickly to hiswork. 

"Miss Sears, " he asked of one of the nurses, "will you bring methat hypodermic needle? How are you getting on, Miss Stern?" tothe other who was scrubbing the patient's arm with antiseptic soapand water, thoroughly sterilizing the skin. 

"You will see, Dr. Reinstrom. " I interposed in a low tone, "thatwe follow in the main your Freiburg treatment. We use scopolaminand narkophin. "

I held up the bottle, as I said it, a rather peculiar shapedbottle, too. 

"And the pain?" he asked. 

"Practically the same as in your experience abroad. We do notrender the patient unconscious, but prevent her from rememberinganything that goes on. "

Dr. Holmes, the attending physician, was just starting thetreatment. Filling his hypodermic, he selected a spot on thepatient's arm, where it had been scrubbed and sterilized, andinjected the narcotic. 

"How simply you do it all, here!" exclaimed Reinstrom in surpriseand undisguised admiration. "You Americans are wonderful!"

"Come--see a patient who is just recovering, " I added, muchflattered by the praise, which, from a German physician, meantmuch. 

Reinstrom followed me out of the door and we entered a privateroom of the hospital where another woman patient lay in bedcarefully watched by a nurse. 

"How do you do?" I nodded to the nurse in a modulated tone. "Everything progressing favorably?"

"Perfectly, " she returned, as Reinstrom, Haynes and myself formeda little group about the bedside of the unconscious woman. 

"And you say they have no recollection of anything that happens?"asked Reinstrom. 

"Absolutely none--if the treatment is given properly, " I repliedconfidently. 

I picked up a piece of bandage which was the handiest thing aboutme and tied it quite tightly about the patient's arm. 

As we waited, the patient, who was gradually coming from under thedrug, roused herself. 

"What is that--it hurts!" she said putting her hand on the bandageI had tied tightly. 

"That is all right. Just a moment. I'll take it off. Don't youremember it?" I asked. 

She shook her head. I smiled at Reinstrom. 

"You see, she has no recollection of my tying the bandage on herarm, " I pointed out. 

"Wonderful!" ejaculated Reinstrom as we left the room. 

All the way back to the office he was loud in his praises andthanked us most heartily, as he put on his hat and coat and shookhands a cordial good-bye. 

Now comes the strange part of my story. After Reinstrom had gone, Dr. Holmes, the attending physician of the woman whom we had seenanesthetized, missed his syringe and the bottle of scopolamine. 

"Miss Sears, " he asked rather testily, "what have you done withthe hypodermic and the scopolamine?"

"Nothing, " she protested. 

"You must have done something. "

She repeated that she had not. 

"Well, it is very strange then, " he said, "I am positive I laidthe syringe and the bottle right here on this tray on the table. "

Holmes, Miss Sears and Miss Stern all hunted, but it could not befound. Others had to be procured. 

I thought little of it at the time, but since then it has occurredto me that it might interest you, Professor Kennedy, and I give itto you for what it may be worth. 

It was early the next morning that I awoke to find Kennedy alreadyup and gone from our apartment. I knew he must be at thelaboratory, and, gathering the mail, which the postman had justslipped through the letter slot, I went over to the University tosee him. As I looked over the letters to cull out my own, one in awoman's handwriting on attractive notepaper addressed to himcaught my eye. 

As I came up the path to the Chemistry Building I saw through thewindow that, in spite of his getting there early, he was findingit difficult to keep his mind on his work. It was the first time Ihad ever known anything to interfere with science in his life. 

I thought of the letter again. 

Craig had lighted a Bunsen burner under a large glass retort. Buthe had no sooner done so than he sat down on a chair and, pickingup a book which I surmised might be some work on toxicology, started to read. 

He seemed not to be able, for the moment, to concentrate his mindand after a little while closed the book and gazed straight aheadof him. Again I thought of the letter, and the vision that, nodoubt, he saw of Elaine making her pathetic appeal for his help. 

As he heard my footstep in the hall, it must have recalled him forhe snapped the book shut and moved over quickly to the retort. 

"Well, " I exclaimed as I entered, "you are the early bird. Did youhave any breakfast?"

I tossed down the letters. He did not reply. So I became absorbedin the morning paper. Still, I did not neglect to watch himcovertly out of the corner of my eye. Quickly he ran over theletters, instead of taking them, one by one, in his usualmethodical way. I quite complimented my own superior acumen. Heselected the dainty note. 

A moment Craig looked at it in anticipation, then tore it openeagerly. I was still watching his face over the top of the paperand was surprised to see that it showed, first, amazement, thenpain, as though something had hurt him. 

He read it again--then looked straight ahead, as if in a daze. 

"Strange, how much crime there is now, " I commented, looking upfrom the paper I had pretended reading. 

No answer. 

"One would think that one master criminal was enough, " I went on. 

Still no answer. 

He continued to gaze straight ahead at blankness. 

"By George, " I exclaimed finally, banging my fist on the table andraising my voice to catch his attention, "you would think we hadnothing but criminals nowadays. "

My voice must have startled him. The usually imperturbable oldfellow actually jumped. Then, as my question did not evidentlyaccord with what was in his mind, he answered at random, "Perhaps--I wonder if--" and then he stopped, noncommittally. 

Suddenly he jumped up, bringing his tightly clenched fist downwith a loud clap into the palm of his hand. 

"By heaven!" he exclaimed, "I--I will!"

Startled at his incomprehensible and unusual conduct I did notattempt to pursue the conversation but let him alone as he strodehastily to the telephone. Almost angrily he seized the receiverand asked for a number. It was not like Craig and I could notconceal my concern. 

"Wh-what's the matter, Craig?" I blurted out eagerly. 

As he waited for the number, he threw the letter over to me. Itook it and read:

"Professor Craig Kennedy, "The University, The Heights, City. 

"Dear Sir, --

"I have come to the conclusion that your work is a hindrancerather than an assistance in clearing up my father's death and Ihereby beg to state that your services are no longer required. This is a final decision and I beg that you will not try to see meagain regarding the matter. 

"Very truly yours, ELAINE DODGE. "

If it had been a bomb I could not have been more surprised. Amoment before I think I had just a sneaking suspicion of jealousythat a woman--even Elaine--should interest my old chums. But nowall that was swept away. How could any woman scorn him?

I could not make it out. 

Kennedy impatiently worked the receiver up and down, repeating thenumber. "Hello--hello, " he repeated, "Yes--hello. Is Miss--oh--good morning, Miss Dodge. "

He was hurrying along as if to give her no chance to cut him off. "I have just received a letter, Miss Dodge, telling me that youdon't want me to continue investigating your father's death, andnot to try to see you again about--"

He stopped. I could hear the reply, as sometimes one can when thetelephone wire conditions are a certain way and the quality of thevoice of the speaker a certain kind. 

"Why--no--Mr. Kennedy, I have written you no letter. "

The look of mingled relief and surprise that crossed Craig's facespoke volumes. 

"Miss Dodge, " he almost shouted, "this is a new trick of theClutching Hand. I--I'll be right over. "

Craig hung up the receiver and turned from the telephone. Evidently he was thinking deeply. Suddenly his face seemed tolight up. He made up his mind to something and a moment later heopened the cabinet--that inexhaustible storehouse from which heseemed to draw weird and curious instruments that met the ever newproblems which his strange profession brought to him. 

I watched curiously. He took out a bottle and what looked like alittle hypodermic syringe, thrust them into his pocket and, foronce, oblivious to my very existence, deliberately walked out ofthe laboratory. 

I did not propose to be thus cavalierly dismissed. I suppose itwould have looked ridiculous to a third party but I followed himas hastily as if he had tried to shut the door on his own shadow. 

We arrived at the corner above the Dodge house just in time to seeanother visitor--Bennett--enter. Craig quickened his pace. Jennings had by this time become quite reconciled to our presenceand a moment later we were entering the drawing room, too. 

Elaine was there, looking lovelier than ever in the plain blackdress, which set off the rosy freshness of her face. 

"And, Perry, " we heard her say, as we were ushered in, "someonehas even forged my name--the handwriting and everything--tellingMr. Kennedy to drop the case--and I never knew. "

She stopped as we entered. We bowed and shook hands with Bennett. Elaine's Aunt Josephine was in the room, a perfect duenna. 

"That's the limit!" exclaimed Bennett. "Miss Dodge has just beentelling me, --"

"Yes, " interrupted Craig. "Look, Miss Dodge, this is it. "

He handed her the letter. She almost seized it, examining itcarefully, her large eyes opening wider in wonder. 

"This is certainly my writing and my notepaper, " she murmured, "but I never wrote the letter!"

Craig looked from the letter to her keenly. No one said a word. For a moment Kennedy hesitated, thinking. 

"Might I--er--see your room, Miss Dodge?" he asked at length. 

Aunt Josephine frowned. Bennett and I could not conceal oursurprise. 

"Why, certainly, " nodded Elaine, as she led the way upstairs. 

It was a dainty little room, breathing the spirit of its mistress. In fact it seemed a sort of profanation as we all followed inafter her. For a moment Kennedy stood still, then he carefullylooked about. At the side of the bed, near the head, he stoopedand picked up something which he held in the palm of his hand. Ibent over. Something gleamed in the morning sunshine--some littlethin pieces of glass. As he tried deftly to fit the tiny littlebits together, he seemed absorbed in thought. Quickly he raised itto his nose, as if to smell it. 

"Ethyl chloride!" he muttered, wrapping the pieces carefully in apaper and putting them into his pocket. 

An instant later he crossed the room to the window and examinedit. 

"Look!" he exclaimed. 

There, plainly, were marks of a jimmy which had been inserted nearthe lock to pry it open. 

"Miss Dodge, " he asked, "might I--might I trouble you to let mesee your arm?"

Wonderingly she did so and Kennedy bent almost reverently over herplump arm examining it. 

On it was a small dark discoloration, around which was a slightredness and tenderness. 

"That, " he said slowly, "is the mark of a hypodermic needle. "

As he finished examining Elaine's arm he drew the letter from hispocket. Still facing her he said in a low tone, "Miss Dodge--youdid write this letter--but under the influence of the new'twilight sleep. '"

We looked at one another amazed. 

Outside, if we had been at the door in the hallway, we might haveseen the sinister-faced Michael listening. He turned and slippedquietly away. 

"Why, Craig, " I exclaimed excitedly, "what do you mean?"

"Exactly what I say. With Miss Dodge's permission I shall showyou. By a small administration of the drug which will injure youin no way, Miss Dodge, I think I can bring back the memory of allthat occurred to you last night. Will you allow me?"

"Mercy, no!" protested Aunt Josephine. 

Craig and Elaine faced each other as they had the day before whenshe had asked him whether the sudden warning of the Clutching Handwould intimidate him. She advanced a step nearer. Elaine trustedhim. 

"Elaine!" protested Aunt Josephine again. 

"I want the experiment to be tried, " she said quietly. 

A moment later Kennedy had placed her in a wing chair in thecorner of the room. 

"Now, Mrs. Dodge, " he said, "please bring me a basin and a towel. "

Aunt Josephine, reconciled, brought them. Kennedy dropped anantiseptic tablet into the water and carefully sterilized Elaine'sarm just above the spot where the red mark showed. Then he drewthe hypodermic from his pocket--carefully sterilizing it, also, and filling it with scopolamine from the bottle. 

"Just a moment, Miss Dodge, " he encouraged as he jabbed the needleinto her arm. 

She did not wince. 

"Please lie back on the couch, " he directed. Then turning to us headded, "It takes some time for this to work. Our criminal got overthat fact and prevented an outcry by using ethyl chloride first. Let me reconstruct the scene. "

As we watched Elaine going under slowly, Craig talked. 

"That night, " he said, "warily, the masked criminal of theClutching Hand might have been seen down below us in the alley. Uphere, Miss Dodge, worn out by the strain of her father's death, let us say, was nervously trying to read, to do anything thatwould take her mind off the tragedy. Perhaps she fell asleep. 

"Just then the Clutching Hand appeared. He came stealthily throughthat window which he had opened. A moment he hesitated, seeingElaine asleep. Then he tiptoed over to the bed, let us say, andfor a moment looked at her, sleeping. 

"A second later he had thrust his hand into his pocket and hadtaken out a small glass bulb with a long thin neck. That was ethylchloride, a drug which produces a quick anesthesia. But it lastsonly a minute or two. That was enough, As he broke the glass neckof the bulb--letting the pieces fall on the floor near the bed--heshoved the thing under Elaine's face, turning his own head awayand holding a handkerchief over his own nose. The mere heat of hishand was enough to cause the ethyl chloride to spray out andovercome her instantly. He stepped away from her a moment andreplaced the now empty vial in his pocket. 

"Then he took a box from his pocket, opened it. There must havebeen a syringe and a bottle of scopolamine. Where they came from Ido not know, but perhaps from some hospital. I shall have to findthat out later. He went to Elaine, quickly jabbing the needle, with no resistance from her now. Slowly he replaced the bottle andthe needle in his pocket. He could not have been in any hurry now, for it takes time for the drug to work. "

Kennedy paused. Had we known at the time, Michael--he of thesinister face--must have been in the hallway, careful that no onesaw him. A tap at the door and the Clutching Hand, that night, must have beckoned him. A moment's parley and they separated--Clutching Hand going back to Elaine, who was now under theinfluence of the second drug. 

"Our criminal, " resumed Kennedy thoughtfully, "may have shakenElaine. She did not answer. Then he may have partly revived her. She must have been startled. Clutching Hand, perhaps, was halfcrouching, with a big ugly blue steel revolver leveled full in herface. 

"'One word and I shoot!' he probably cried. "Get up!'

"Trembling, she must have done so. 'Your slippers and a kimono, 'he would naturally have ordered. She put them on mechanically. Then he must have ordered her to go out of the door and down thestairs. Clutching Hand must have followed and as he did so hewould have cautiously put out the lights. "

We were following, spell-bound, Kennedy's graphic reconstructionof what must have happened. Evidently he had struck close to thetruth. Elaine's eyes were closed. Gently Kennedy led her along. "Now, Miss Dodge, " he encouraged, "try--try hard to recollect justwhat it was that happened last night--everything. "

As Kennedy paused after his quick recital, she seemed to trembleall over. Slowly she began to speak. We stood awestruck. Kennedyhad been right!

The girl was now living over again those minutes that had beenforgotten--blotted out by the drug. 

And it was all real to her, too, --terribly real. She was speaking, plainly in terror. 

"I see a man--oh, such a figure--with a mask. He holds a gun in myface--he threatens me. I put on my kimono and slippers, as hetells me. I am in a daze. I know what I am doing--and I don'tknow. I go out with him, downstairs, into the library. "

Elaine shuddered again at the recollection. "Ugh! The room isdark, the room where he killed my father. Moonlight outsidestreams in. This masked man and I come in. He switches on thelights. 

"'Go to the safe, ' he says, and I do it, the new safe, you know. 'Do you know the combination?' he asks me. 'Yes, ' I reply, toofrightened to say no. 

"'Open it then, ' he says, waving that awful revolver closer. I doso. Hastily he rummages through it, throwing papers here andthere. But he seems not to find what he is after and turns away, swearing fearfully. 

"'Hang it!' he cries to me. 'Where else did your father keeppapers?' I point in desperation at the desk. He takes one lastlook at the safe, shoves all the papers he has strewn on the floorback again and slams the safe shut. 

"'Now, come on!' he says, indicating with the gun that he wants meto follow him away from the safe. At the desk he repeats thesearch. But he finds nothing. Almost I think he is about to killme. 'Where else did your father keep papers?' he hisses fiercely, still threatening me with the gun. 

"I am too frightened to speak. But at last I am able to say, 'I--Idon't know!' Again he threatens me. 'As God is my judge, ' I cry, 'I don't know. ' It is fearful. Will he shoot me?

"Thank heaven! At last he believes me. But such a look of foiledfury I have never seen on any human face before. 

"'Sit down!' he growls, adding, 'at the desk. ' I do. 

"'Take some of your notepaper--the best. ' I do that, too. 

"'And a pen, ' he goes on. My fingers can hardly hold it. 

"'Now--write!' he says, and as he dictates, I write--"

"This?" interjected Kennedy, eagerly holding up the letter that hehad received from her. 

Elaine looked it over with her drug-laden eyes. "Yes, " she nodded, then lapsed again to the scene itself. "He reads it over and as hedoes so says, 'Now, address an envelope. ' Himself he folds theletter, seals the envelope, stamps it, and drops it into hispocket, hastily straightening the desk. 

"'Now, go ahead of me--again. Leave the room--no, by the halldoor. We are going back upstairs. ' I obey him, and at the door heswitches off the lights. How I stand it, I don't know. I goupstairs, mechanically, into my own room--I and this masked man. 

"'Take off the kimono and slippers!' he orders. I do that. 'Getinto bed!' he growls. I crawl in fearfully. For a moment he looksabout, --then goes out--with a look back as he goes. Oh! Oh! Thathand--which he raises at me--THAT HAND!"

The poor girl was sitting bolt upright, staring straight at thehall door, as we watched and listened, fascinated. 

Kennedy was bending over, soothing her. She gave evidences ofcoming out from the effect of the drug. 

I noticed that Bennett had suddenly moved a step in the directionof the door at which she stared. 

"My God!" he muttered, staring, too. "Look!"

We did look. A letter was slowly being inserted under the door. 

I took a quick step forward. That moment I felt a rough tug at myarm, and a voice whispered, "Wait--you chump!"

It was Kennedy. He had whipped out his automatic and had carefullyleveled it at the door. Before he could fire, however, Bennett hadrushed ahead. 

I followed. We looked down the hall. Sure enough, the figure of aman could be seen disappearing around an angle. I followed Bennettout of the door and down the hall. 

Words cannot keep pace with what followed. Together we rushed tothe backstairs. 

"Down there, while I go down the front!" cried Bennett. 

I went down and he turned and went down the other flight. As hedid so, Craig followed him. 

Suddenly, in the drawing room, I bumped into a figure on the otherside of the portieres. I seized him. We struggled. Rip! Theportieres came down, covering me entirely. Over and over we went, smashing a lamp. It was vicious. Another man attacked me, too. 

"I--I've got him--Kennedy!" I heard a voice pant over me. 

A scream followed from Aunt Josephine. Suddenly the portieres werepulled off me. 

"The deuce!" puffed Kennedy. "It's Jameson!"

Bennett had rushed plump into me, coming the other way, hidden bythe portieres. 

If we had known at the time, our Michael of the sinister face hadgained the library and was standing in the center of the room. Hehad heard me coming and had fled to the drawing room. As wefinished our struggle in the library, he rose hastily from behindthe divan in the other room where he had dropped and had quietlyand hastily disappeared through another door. 

Laughing and breathing hard, they helped me to my feet. It was nojoke to me. I was sore in every bone. 

"Well, where DID he go?" insisted Bennett. 

"I don't know--perhaps back there, " I cried. 

Bennett and I argued a moment, then started and stopped short. Aunt Josephine had run downstairs and now was shoving the letterinto Craig's hands. 

We gathered about him, curiously. He opened it. On it was thatawesome Clutching Hand again. 

Kennedy read it. For a moment he stood and studied it, then slowlycrushed it in his hand. 

Just then Elaine, pale and shaken from the ordeal she hadvoluntarily gone through, burst in upon us from upstairs. Withouta word she advanced to Craig and took the letter from him. 

Inside, as on the envelope, was that same signature of theClutching Hand. 

Elaine gazed at it wild-eyed, then at Craig. Craig smilinglyreached for the note, took it, folded it and unconcernedly thrustit into his pocket. 

"My God!" she cried, clasping her hands convulsively and repeatingthe words of the letter. "YOUR LAST WARNING!"

CHAPTER III

THE VANISHING JEWELS

Banging away at my typewriter, the next day, in Kennedy'slaboratory, I was startled by the sudden, insistent ringing of thetelephone near me. 

"Hello, " I answered, for Craig was at work at his table, tryingstill to extract some clue from the slender evidence thus farelicited in the Dodge mystery. 

"Oh, Mr. Kennedy, " I heard an excited voice over the wire reply, "my friend, Susie Martin is here. Her father has just received amessage from that Clutching Hand and--"

"Just a moment, Miss Dodge, " I interrupted. "This is Mr. Jameson. "

"Oh!" came back the voice, breathless and disappointed. "Let mehave Mr. Kennedy--quick. "

I had already passed the telephone to Craig and was watching himkeenly as he listened over it. The anticipation of a message fromElaine did not fade, yet his face grew grave as he listened. 

He motioned to me for a pad and pencil that lay near me. 

"Please read the letter again, slower, Miss Dodge, " he asked, adding, "There isn't time for me to see it--just yet. But I wantit exactly. You say it is made up of separate words and type cutfrom newspapers and pasted on note paper?"

I handed him paper and pencil. 

"All right now, Miss Dodge, go ahead. "

As he wrote, he indicated to me by his eyes that he wanted me toread. I did so:

"Sturtevant Martin, Jeweler, "739 1/2 Fifth Ave. , "New York City. 

"SIR:

"As you have failed to deliver the $10, 000, I shall rob your maindiamond case at exactly noon today. "

"Thank you, Miss Dodge, " continued Kennedy, laying down thepencil. "Yes, I understand perfectly--signed by that sameClutching Hand. Let me see, " he pondered, looking at his watch. "It is now just about half past eleven. Very well. I shall meetyou and Miss Martin at Mr. Martin's store directly. "

It lacked five minutes of noon when Kennedy and I dashed up beforeMartin's and dismissed our taxi-cab. 

A remarkable scene greeted us as we entered the famous jewelryshop. Involuntarily I drew back. Squarely in front of us a man hadsuddenly raised a revolver and leveled it at us. 

"Don't!" cried a familiar voice. "That is Mr. Kennedy!"

Just then, from a little knot of people, Elaine Dodge sprangforward with a cry and seized the gun. 

Kennedy turned to her, apparently not half so much concerned aboutthe automatic that yawned at him as about the anxiety of thepretty girl who had intervened. The too eager plainclothesmanlowered the gun sheepishly. 

Sturtevant Martin was a typical society business man, quietly butrichly dressed. He was inclined to be pompous and affected a pairof rather distinguished looking side whiskers. 

In the excitement I glanced about hurriedly. There were two orthree policemen in the shop and several plainclothesmen, somearmed with formidable looking sawed-off shot guns. 

Directly in front of me was a sign, tacked up on a pillar, whichread, "This store will be closed at noon today. Martin & Co. "

All the customers were gone. In fact the clerks had had sometrouble in clearing the shop, as many of them expressed not onlysurprise but exasperation at the proceeding. Nevertheless theclerks had politely but insistently ushered them out. 

Martin himself was evidently very nervous and very much alarmed. Indeed no one could blame him for that. Merely to have beensingled out by this amazing master criminal was enough to causepanic. Already he had engaged detectives, prepared for whatevermight happen, and they had advised him to leave the diamonds inthe counter, clear the store, and let the crooks try anything, ifthey dared. 

I fancied that he was somewhat exasperated at his daughter'spresence, too, but could see that her explanation of Elaine's andPerry Bennett's interest in the Clutching Hand had considerablymollified him. He had been talking with Bennett as we came in andevidently had a high respect for the young lawyer. 

Just back of us, and around the corner, as we came in, we hadnoticed a limousine which had driven up. Three faultlessly attireddandies had entered a doorway down the street, as we learnedafterwards, apparently going to a fashionable tailor's whichoccupied the second floor of the old-fashioned building, the firstfloor having been renovated and made ready for renting. Had webeen there a moment sooner we might have seen, I suppose, that oneof them nodded to a taxicab driver who was standing at a publichack stand a few feet up the block. The driver noddedunostentatiously back to the men. 

In spite of the excitement, Kennedy quietly examined the showcase, which was, indeed, a veritable treasure store of brilliants. Then with a keen scrutinizing glance he looked over the police anddetectives gathered around. There was nothing to do now but wait, as the detectives had advised. 

I looked at a large antique grandfather's clock which was standingnearby. It now lacked scarcely a minute of twelve. 

Slowly the hands of the clock came nearer together at noon. 

We all gathered about the show case with its glittering hoard ofwealth, forming a circle at a respectful distance. 

Martin pointed nervously at the clock. 

In deep-lunged tones the clock played the chords written, Ibelieve, by Handel. Then it began striking. 

As it did so, Martin involuntarily counted off the strokes, whileone of the plainclothesmen waved his shotgun in unison. 

Martin finished counting. 

Nothing had happened. 

We all breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Well, it is still there!" exclaimed Martin, pointing at the show-case, with a forced laugh. 

Suddenly came a rending and crashing sound. It seemed as if thevery floor on which we stood was giving way. 

The show-case, with all its priceless contents, went smashing downinto the cellar below. 

The flooring beneath the case had been cut through!

All crowded forward, gazing at the black yawning cavern. A momentwe hesitated, then gingerly craned our necks over the edge. 

Down below, three men, covered with linen dusters and their faceshidden by masks, had knocked the props away from the ceiling ofthe cellar, which they had sawed almost through at their leisure, and the show case had landed eight or ten feet below, shiveredinto a thousand bits. 

A volley of shots whizzed past us, and another. While one crookwas hastily stuffing the untold wealth of jewels into a burlapbag, the others had drawn revolvers and were firing up through thehole in the floor, desperately. 

Martin, his detectives, and the rest of us fell back from the edgeof the chasm hastily, to keep out of range of the hail of bullets. 

"Look out!" cried someone behind us, before we could recover fromour first surprise and return the fire. 

One of the desperadoes had taken a bomb from under his duster, lighted it, and thrown it up through the hole in the floor. 

It sailed up over our heads and landed near our little group onthe floor, the fuse sputtering ominously. 

Quickly we divided and backed away even further. 

I heard an exclamation of fear from Elaine. 

Kennedy had pushed his way past us and picked up the deadlyinfernal machine in his bare hands. 

I watched him, fascinated. As near as he dared, he approached thehole in the floor, still holding the thing off at arm's length. Would he never throw it?

He was coolly holding it, allowing the fuse to burn down closer tothe explosion point. 

It was now within less than an inch sure death. 

Suddenly he raised it and hurled the deadly thing down through thehole. 

We could hear the imprecations of the crooks as it struck thecellar floor, near them. They had evidently been still crammingjewelry into the capacious maw of the bag. One of them, discovering the bomb, must have advanced toward it, then retreatedwhen he saw how imminent was the explosion. 

"Leave the store--quick!" rang out Kennedy's voice. 

We backed away as fast as those behind us would permit. Kennedyand Bennett were the last to leave, in fact paused at the door. 

Down below the crooks were beating a hasty retreat through asecret entrance which they had effected. 

"The bag! The bag!" we could hear one of them bellow. 

"The bomb--run!" cried another voice gruffly. 

A second later came an ominous silence. The last of the three musthave fled. 

The explosion that followed lifted us fairly off our feet. A greatpuff of smoke came belching up through the hole, followed by thecrashing of hundreds of dollars' worth of glass ware in thejewelry shop as fragments of stone, brick and mortar and hugesplinters of wood were flung with tremendous force in everydirection from the miniature volcano. 

As the smoke from the explosion cleared away, Kennedy could beseen, the first to run forward. 

Meanwhile Martin's detectives had rushed down a flight of backstairs that led into a coal cellar. With coal shovels and bars, anything they could lay hands on, they attacked the door thatopened forward from the coal cellar into the front basement wherethe robbers had been. 

A moment Kennedy and Bennett paused on the brink of the abysswhich the bomb had made, waiting for the smoke to decrease. Thenthey began to climb down cautiously over the piled up wreckage. 

The explosion had set the basement afire, but the fire had notgained much headway, by the time they reached the basement. Quickly Kennedy ran to the door into the coal cellar and openedit. 

From the other side, Martin, followed by the police and thedetectives, burst in. 

"Fire!" cried one of the policemen, leaping back to turn in analarm from the special apparatus upstairs. 

All except Martin began beating out the flames, using such weaponsas they already held in their hands to batter down the door. 

To Martin there was one thing paramount--the jewels. 

In the midst of the confusion, Elaine, closely followed by herfriend Susie, made her way fearlessly into the stifle of smokedown the stairs. 

"There are your jewels, Mr. Martin, " cried Kennedy, kicking theprecious burlap bag with his foot as if it had been so muchordinary merchandise, and turning toward what was in his mind themost important thing at stake--the direction taken by the agentsof the Clutching Hand. 

"Thank heaven!" ejaculated Martin, fairly pouncing on the bag andtearing it open. "They didn't get away with them--after all!" heexclaimed, examining the contents with satisfaction. "See--youmust have frightened them off at just the right moment when yousent the bomb back at them. "

Elaine and Susie pressed forward eagerly as he poured forth thesparkling stream of gems, intact. 

"Wasn't he just simply wonderful!" I heard Susie whisper toElaine. 

Elaine did not answer. She had eyes or ears for nothing now in themelee but Kennedy. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Events were moving rapidly. 

The limousine had been standing innocently enough at the curb nearthe corner, with the taxicab close behind it. 

Less than ten minutes after they had entered, three well-dressedmen came out of the vacant shop, apparently from the tailor'sabove, and climbed leisurely into their car. 

As the last one entered, he half turned to the taxicab driver, hiding from passers-by the sign of the Clutching Hand which thetaxicab driver returned, in the same manner. Then the big carwhirled up the avenue. 

All this we learned later from a street sweeper who was at worknearby. 

Down below, while the police and detectives were putting out thefire, Kennedy was examining the wall of the cellar, looking forthe spot where the crooks had escaped. 

"A secret door!" he exclaimed, as he paused after tapping alongthe wall to determine its character. "You can see how the force ofthe explosion has loosened it. "

Sure enough, when he pointed it out to us, it was plainly visible. One of the detectives picked up a crowbar and others, still withthe hastily selected implements they had seized to fight the fire, started in to pry it open. 

As it yielded, Kennedy pushed his way through. Elaine, alwaysutterly fearless, followed. Then the rest of us went through. 

There seemed to be nothing, however, that would help us in thecellar next door, and Kennedy mounted the steps of a stairway inthe rear. 

The stairway led to a sort of storeroom, full of barrels andboxes, but otherwise characterless. When I arrived Kennedy wasgingerly holding up the dusters which the crooks had worn. 

"We're on the right trail, " commented Elaine as he showed them toher, "but where do you suppose the owners are?"

Craig shrugged his shoulders and gave a quick look about. "Evidently they came in from and went away by the street, " heobserved, hurrying to the door, followed by Elaine. 

On the sidewalk, he gazed up the avenue, then catching sight ofthe street cleaner, called to him. 

"Yes, sir, " replied the man, stolidly looking up from his work. "Isee three gentlemen come out and get into an automobile. "

"Which way did they go?" asked Kennedy. 

For answer the man jerked his thumb over his shoulder in thegeneral direction uptown. 

"Did you notice the number of the car?" asked Craig eagerly. 

The man shrugged his shoulders blankly. 

With keen glance, Kennedy strained his eyes. Far up the avenue, hecould descry the car threading its way in and out among theothers, just about disappearing. 

A moment later Craig caught sight of the vacant taxicab andcrooked his finger at the driver, who answered promptly bycranking his engine. 

"You saw that limousine standing there?" asked Craig. 

"Yes, " nodded the chauffeur with a show of alertness. 

"Well, follow it, " ordered Kennedy, jumping into the cab. 

"Yes, sir. "

Craig was just about to close the door when a slight figureflashed past us and a dainty foot was placed on the step. 

"Please, Mr. Kennedy, " pleaded Elaine, "let me go. They may leadto my father's slayer. "

She said it so earnestly that Craig could scarcely have resistedif he had wanted to do so. 

Just as Elaine and Kennedy were moving off, I came out of thevacant store, with Bennett and the detectives. 

"Craig!" I called. "Where are you going?"

Kennedy stuck his head out of the window and I am quite sure thathe was not altogether displeased that I was not with him. 

"Chasing that limousine, " he shouted back. "Follow us in anothercar. "

A moment later he and Elaine were gone. 

Bennett and I looked about. 

"There are a couple of cabs--down there, " I pointed out at theother end of the block. "I'll take one you take the other. "

Followed by a couple of the detectives, I jumped into the firstone I came to, excitedly telling the driver to follow Kennedy'staxi, directing him with my head out of the window. 

"Mr. Jameson, please--can't I go with you?"

I turned. It was Susie Martin. "One of you fellows, go in theother car, " I asked the detectives. 

Before the man could move, Mr. Martin himself appeared. 

"No, Susan, I--I won't allow it, " he ordered. 

"But Elaine went, " she pouted. 

"Well, Elaine is--ah--I won't have it, " stormed Martin. 

There was no time to waste. With a hasty apology, I drove off. 

Who, besides Bennett, went in the other car, I don't know, but itmade no difference, for we soon lost them. Our driver, however, was a really clever fellow. Far ahead now we could see thelimousine drive around a corner, making a dangerous swerve. Kennedy's cab followed, skidding dangerously near a pole. 

But the taxicab was no match for the powerful limousine. On uptownthey went, the only thing preventing the limousine from escapingbeing the fear of pursuit by traffic police if the driver let outspeed. They were content to manage to keep just far enough aheadto be out of danger of having Kennedy overhaul them. As for us, wefollowed as best we could, on uptown, past the city line, and outinto the country. 

There Kennedy lost sight altogether of the car he was trailing. Worse than that, we lost sight of Kennedy. Still we kept onblindly, trusting to luck and common sense in picking the road. 

I was peering ahead over the driver's shoulder, the window down, trying to direct him, when we approached a fork in the road. Herewas a dilemma which must be decided at once rightly or wrongly. 

As we neared the crossroad, I gave an involuntary exclamation. Beside the road, almost on it, lay the figure of a man. Our driverpulled up with a jerk and I was out of the car in an instant. 

There lay Kennedy! Someone had blackjacked him. He was groaningand just beginning to show signs of consciousness as I bent over. 

"What's the matter, old man?" I asked, helping him to his feet. 

He looked about dazed a moment, then seeing me and comprehending, he pointed excitedly, but vaguely. 

"Elaine!" he cried. "They've kidnapped Elaine!"

What had really happened, as we learned later from Elaine andothers, was that when the cross roads was reached, the threecrooks in the limousine had stopped long enough to speak to anaccomplice stationed there, according to their plan for a getaway. He was a tough looking individual who might have been hoboing itto the city. 

When, a few minutes later, Kennedy and Elaine had approached thefork, their driver had slowed up, as if in doubt which way to go. Craig had stuck his head out of the window, as I had done, and, seeing the crossroads, had told the chauffeur to stop. There stoodthe hobo. 

"Did a car pass here, just now--a big car?" called Craig. 

The man put his hand to his ear, as if only half comprehending. 

"Which way did the big car go?" repeated Kennedy. 

The hobo approached the taxicab sullenly, as if he had a grudgeagainst cars in general. 

One question after another elicited little that could be construedas intelligence. If Craig had only been able to see, he would havefound out that, with his back toward the taxicab driver, the hoboheld one hand behind him and made the sign of the Clutching Hand, glancing surreptitiously at the driver to catch the answeringsign, while Craig gazed earnestly up the two roads. 

At last Craig gave him up as hopeless. "Well--go ahead--that way, "he indicated, picking the most likely road. 

As the chauffeur was about to start, he stalled his engine. 

"Hurry!" urged Craig, exasperated at the delays. 

The driver got out and tried to crank the engine. Again and againhe turned it over, but, somehow, it refused to start. Then helifted the hood and began to tinker. 

"What's the matter?" asked Craig, impatiently jumping out andbending over the engine, too. 

The driver shrugged his shoulders. "Must be something wrong withthe ignition, I guess, " he replied. 

Kennedy looked the car over hastily. "I can't see anything wrong, "he frowned. 

"Well, there is, " growled the driver. 

Precious minutes were speeding away, as they argued. Finally withhis characteristic energy, Kennedy put the taxicab driver aside. 

"Let me try it, " he said. "Miss Dodge, will you arrange that sparkand throttle?"

Elaine, equal to anything, did so, and Craig bent down and crankedthe engine. It started on the first spin. 

"See!" he exclaimed. "There wasn't anything, after all. "

He took a step toward the taxicab. 

"Say, " objected the driver, nastily, interposing himself betweenCraig and the wheel which he seemed disposed to take now, "who'srunning this boat, anyhow?"

Surprised, Kennedy tried to shoulder the fellow out of the way. The driver resisted sullenly. 

"Mr. Kennedy--look out!" cried Elaine. 

Craig turned. But it was too late. The rough looking fellow hadwakened to life. Suddenly he stepped up behind Kennedy with ablackjack. As the heavy weight descended, Craig crumpled up on theground, unconscious. 

With a scream, Elaine turned and started to run. But the chauffeurseized her arm. 

"Say, bo, " he asked of the rough fellow, "what does Clutching Handwant with her? Quick! There's another cab likely to be along in amoment with that fellow Jameson in it. "

The rough fellow, with an oath, seized her and dragged her intothe taxicab. "Go ahead!" he growled, indicating the road. 

And away they sped, leaving Kennedy unconscious on the side of theroad where we found him. 

 . . . . . . . . 

"What are we to do?" I asked helplessly of Kennedy, when we had atlast got him on his feet. 

His head still ringing from the force of the blow of theblackjack, Craig stooped down, then knelt in the dust of the road, then ran ahead a bit where it was somewhat muddy. 

"Which way--which way?" he muttered to himself. 

I thought perhaps the blow had affected him and leaned over to seewhat he was doing. Instead, he was studying the marks made by thetire of the Clutching Hand cab. Very decidedly, there in the road, the little anti-skid marks on the tread of the tire showed--someworn, some cut--but with each revolution the same marksreappearing unmistakably. More than that, it was an unusual makeof tire. Craig was actually studying the finger prints, so tospeak, of an automobile!

More slowly now and carefully, we proceeded, for a mistake meantlosing the trail of Elaine. Kennedy absolutely refused to getinside our cab, but clung tightly to a metal rod outside while hestood on the running board--now straining his eyes along the roadto catch any faint glimpse of either taxi or limousine, or thedust from them, now gazing intently at the ground following thefinger prints of the taxicab that was carrying off Elaine. Allpain was forgotten by him now in the intensity of his anxiety forher. 

We came to another crossroads and the driver glanced at Craig. "Stop!" he ordered. 

In another instant he was down in the dirt, examining the road formarks. 

"That way!" he indicated, leaping back to the running board. 

We piled back into the car and proceeded under Kennedy'sdirection, as fast as he would permit. So it continued, perhapsfor a couple of hours. 

At last Kennedy stopped the cab and slowly directed the driver toveer into an open space that looked peculiarly lonesome. Near itstood a one story brick factory building, closed, but notabandoned. 

As I looked about at the unattractive scene, Kennedy already wasdown on his knees in the dirt again, studying the tire tracks. They were all confused, showing that the taxicab we were followinghad evidently backed in and turned several times before going on. 

"Crossed by another set of tire tracks!" he exclaimed excitedly, studying closer. "That must have been the limousine, waiting. "

Laboriously he was following the course of the cars in the openspace, when the one word escaped him, "Footprints!"

He was up and off in a moment, before we could imagine what he wasafter. We had got out of the cab, and followed him as, down to thevery shore of a sort of cove or bay, he went. There lay a rusty, discarded boiler on the beach, half submerged in the rising tide. At this tank the footprints seemed to go right down the sand andinto the waves which were slowly obliterating them. Kennedy gazedout as if to make out a possible boat on the horizon, where thecove widened out. 

"Look!" he cried. 

Farther down the shore, a few feet, I had discovered the sameprints, going in the opposite direction, back toward the placefrom which we had just come. I started to follow them, but soonfound myself alone. Kennedy had paused beside the old boiler. 

"What is it?" I asked, retracing my steps. 

He did not answer, but seemed to be listening. We listened also. There certainly was a most peculiar noise inside that tank. 

Was it a muffled scream?

Kennedy reached down and picked up a rock, hitting the tank aresounding blow. As the echo died down, he listened again. 

Yes, there was a sound--a scream perhaps--a woman's voice, faint, but unmistakable. 

I looked at his face inquiringly. Without a word I read in it theconfirmation of the thought that had flashed into my mind. 

Elaine Dodge was inside!

 . . . . . . . . 

First had come the limousine, with its three bandits, to the spotfixed on as a rendezvous. Later had come the taxicab. As it hoveinto sight, the three well-dressed crooks had drawn revolvers, thinking perhaps the plan for getting rid of Kennedy mightpossibly have miscarried. But the taxicab driver and the rough-faced fellow had reassured them with the sign of the ClutchingHand, and the revolvers were lowered. 

As they parleyed hastily, the rough-neck and the fake chauffeurlifted Elaine out of the taxi. She was bound and gagged. 

"Well, now we've got her, what shall we do with her?" asked one. 

"It's got to be quick. There's another cab, " put in the driver. 

"The deuce with that. "

"The deuce with nothing, " he returned. "That fellow Kennedy's aclever one. He may come to. If he does, he won't miss us. Quick, now!"

"I wish I'd broken his skull, " muttered the roughneck. 

"We'd better leave her somewhere here, " remarked one of thebetter-dressed three. "I don't think the chief wants us to killher--yet, " he added, with an ominous glance at Elaine, who inspite of threats was not cowed, but was vainly struggling at herbonds. 

"Well, where shall it be?" asked another. 

They looked about. 

"See, " cried the third. "See that old boiler down there at theedge of the water? Why not put her in there? No one'll ever thinkto look in such a place. "

Down by the water's edge, where he pointed, lay a big boiler suchas is used on stationary engines, with its end lapped by thewaves. With a hasty expression of approval, the rough-neck pickedElaine up bodily, still struggling vainly, and together theycarried her, bound and gagged, to the tank. The opening, which wastoward the water, was small, but they managed, roughly, to thrusther in. 

A moment later and they had rolled up a huge boulder against thesmall entrance, bracing it so that it would be impossible for herto get out from the inside. Then they drove off hastily. 

Inside the old boiler lay Elaine, still bound and gagged. If shecould only scream! Someone might hear. She must get help. Therewas water in the tank. She managed to lean up inside it, standingas high as the walls would allow her, trying to keep her headabove the water. 

Frantically, she managed to loosen the gag. She screamed. Hervoice seemed to be bound around by the iron walls as was sheherself. She shuddered, The water was rising--had reached herchest, and was still rising, slowly, inexorably. 

What should she do? Would no one hear her? The water was up to herneck now. She held her head as high as she could and screamedagain. 

What was that? Silence? Or was someone outside?

 . . . . . . . . 

Coolly, in spite of the emergency, Kennedy took in the periloussituation. 

The lower end of the boiler, which was on a slant on the rapidlyshelving beach, was now completely under water and impossible toget at. Besides, the opening was small, too small. 

We pulled away the stone, but that did no good. No one could hopeto get in and then out again that way alive--much less with ahelpless girl. Yet something must be done. The tank waspractically submerged inside, as I estimated quickly. Blows had noeffect on the huge iron trap which had been built to resist manypounds of pressure. 

Kennedy gazed about frantically and his eye caught the sign on thefactory:

OXYACETYLENE WELDING CO. 

"Come, Walter, " he cried, running up the shore. 

A moment later, breathless, we reached the doorway. It was, ofcourse, locked. Kennedy whipped out his revolver and several well-directed shots through the keyhole smashed the lock. We put ourshoulders to it and swung the door open, entering the factory. 

There was not a soul about, not even a watchman. Hastily we tookin the place, a forge and a number of odds and ends of metalsheets, rods, pipes and angles. 

Beside a workbench stood two long cylinders, studded with bolts. 

"That's what I'm looking for, " exclaimed Craig. "Here, Walter, take one. I'll take the other--and the tubes--and--"

He did not pause to finish, but seized up a peculiar shapedinstrument, like a huge hook, with a curved neck and sharp beak. Really it was composed of two metal tubes which ran into acylinder or mixing chamber above the nozzle, while parallel tothem ran another tube with a nozzle of its own. 

We ran, for there was no time to lose. As nearly as I couldestimate it, the water must now be slowly closing over Elaine. 

"What is it?" I asked as he joined up the tubes from the tanks tothe peculiar hook-like apparatus he carried. 

"An oxyacetylene blowpipe, " he muttered back feverishly working. "Used for welding and cutting, too, " he added. 

With a light he touched the nozzle. Instantly a hissing, blindingflame-needle made the steel under it incandescent. The terrificheat from one nozzle made the steel glow. The stream of oxygenfrom the second completely consumed the hot metal. And the forceof the blast carried a fine spray of disintegrated metal beforeit. It was a brilliant sight. But it was more than that. Throughthe very steel itself, the flame, thousands of degrees hot, seemedto eat its way in a fine line, as if it were a sharp knife cuttingthrough ordinary cardboard. 

With tense muscles Kennedy skillfully guided the terribleinstrument that ate cold steel, wielding the torch as deftly as ifit had been, as indeed it was, a magic wand of modern science. 

He was actually cutting out a huge hole in the still exposedsurface of the tank--all around, except for a few inches, toprevent the heavy piece from falling inward. 

As Kennedy carefully bent outward the section of the tank which hehad cut, he quickly reached down and lifted Elaine, unconscious, out of the water. 

Gently he laid her on the sand. It was the work of only a momentto cut the cords that bound her hands. 

There she lay, pale and still. Was she dead?

Kennedy worked frantically to revive her. 

At last, slowly, the color seemed to return to her pale lips. Hereyelids fluttered. Then her great, deep eyes opened. 

As she looked up and caught sight of Craig bending anxiously overher, she seemed to comprehend. For a moment both were silent. ThenElaine reached up and took his hand. 

There was much in the look she gave him--admiration, confidence, --love itself. 

Heroics, however, were never part of Kennedy's frank make-up. Thefact was that her admiration, even though not spoken, plainlyembarrassed him. Yet he forgot that as he looked at her lyingthere, frail and helpless. 

He stroked her forehead gently, laying back the wet ringlets ofher hair. 

"Craig, " she murmured, "you--you've saved my life!"

Her tone was eloquent. 

"Elaine, " he whispered, still gazing into her wonderful eyes, "theClutching Hand shall pay for this! It is a fight to the finishbetween us!"

CHAPTER IV

"THE FROZEN SAFE"

Kennedy swung open the door of our taxicab as we pulled up, safeat last, before the Dodge mansion, after the rescue of Elaine fromthe brutal machinations of the Clutching Hand. 

Bennett was on the step of the cab in a moment and, together, oneon each side of Elaine, they assisted her out of the car and upthe steps to the house. 

As they mounted the steps, Kennedy called back to me, "Pay thedriver, Walter, please. "

It was the first time I had thought of that. As it happened, I hadquite a bankroll with me and, in my hurry, I peeled off a tendollar bill and tossed it to the fellow, intending to be generousand tell him to keep the change. 

"Say, " he exclaimed, pointing to the clock, "come across--twenty-three, sixty. "

Protesting, I peeled off some more bills. 

Having satisfied this veritable anaconda and gorged his dilatingappetite for banknotes, I turned to follow the others. Jenningshad opened the door immediately. Whether it was that he retained agrudge against me or whether he did not see me, he would haveclosed it before I could get up there. I called and took the stepstwo at a time. 

Elaine's Aunt Josephine was waiting for us in the drawing room, very much worried. The dear old lady was quite scandalized asElaine excitedly told of the thrilling events that had just takenplace. 

"And to think they--actually--carried you!" she exclaimed, horrified, adding, "And I not--"

"But Mr. Kennedy came along and saved me just in time, "interrupted Elaine with a smile. "I was well chaperoned!"

Aunt Josephine turned to Craig gratefully. "How can I ever thankyou enough, Mr. Kennedy, " she said fervently. 

Kennedy was quite embarrassed. With a smile, Elaine perceived hisdiscomfiture, not at all displeased by it. 

"Come into the library, " she cried gaily, taking his arm. "I'vesomething to show you. "

Where the old safe which had been burnt through had stood was nowa brand new safe of the very latest construction and design--oneof those that look and are so formidable. 

"Here is the new safe, " she pointed out brightly. "It is not onlyproof against explosives, but between the plates is a lining thatis proof against thermit and even that oxy-acetylene blowpipe bywhich you rescued me from the old boiler. It has a time lock, too, that will prevent its being opened at night, even if anyone shouldlearn the combination. "

They stood before the safe a moment and Kennedy examined itclosely with much interest. 

"Wonderful!" he admired. 

"I knew you'd approve of it, " cried Elaine, much pleased. "Now Ihave something else to show you. "

She paused at the desk and from a drawer took out a portfolio oflarge photographs. They were very handsome photographs of herself. 

"Much more wonderful than the safe, " remarked Craig earnestly. Then, hesitating and a trifle embarrassed, he added, "May I--may Ihave one?"

"If you care for it, " she said, dropping her eyes, then glancingup at him quickly. 

"Care for it?" he repeated. "It will be one of the greatesttreasures. "

She slipped the picture quickly into an envelope. "Come, " sheinterrupted. "Aunt Josephine will be wondering where we are. She--she's a demon chaperone. "

Bennett, Aunt Josephine and myself were talking earnestly asElaine and Craig returned. 

"Well, " said Bennett, glancing at his watch and rising as heturned to Elaine, "I'm afraid I must go, now. "

He crossed over to where she stood and shook hands. There was nodoubt that Bennett was very much smitten by his fair client. 

"Good-bye, Mr. Bennett, " she murmured, "and thank you so much forwhat you have done for me today. "

But there was something lifeless about the words. She turnedquickly to Craig, who had remained standing. 

"Must you go, too, Mr. Kennedy?" she asked, noticing his position. 

"I'm afraid Mr. Jameson and I must be back on the job before thisClutching Hand gets busy again, " he replied reluctantly. 

"Oh, I hope you--we get him soon!" she exclaimed, and there wasnothing lifeless about the way she gave Craig her hand, asBennett, he and I left a moment later. 

 . . . . . . . . 

That morning I had noticed Kennedy fussing some time at the doorof our apartment before we went over to the laboratory. As nearlyas I could make out he had placed something under the rug at thedoor out into the hallway. 

When we approached our door, now, Craig paused. By pressing alittle concealed button he caused a panel in the wall outside toloosen, disclosing a small, boxlike plate in the wall underneath. 

It was about a foot long and perhaps four inches wide. Through itran a piece of paper which unrolled from one coil and wound up onanother, actuated by clockwork. Across the blank white paper ranan ink line traced by a stylographic pen, such as I had seen inmechanical pencils used in offices, hotels, banks and such places. 

Kennedy examined the thing with interest. 

"What is it?" I asked. 

"A new seismograph, " he replied, still gazing carefully at therolled up part of the paper. "I have installed it because itregisters every footstep on the floor of our apartment. We can'tbe too careful with this Clutching Hand. I want to know whether wehave any visitors or not in our absence. This straight lineindicates that we have not. Wait a moment. "

Craig hastily unlocked the door and entered. Inside, I could seehim pacing up and down our modest quarters. 

"Do you see anything, Walter?" he called. 

I looked at the seismograph. The pen had started to trace itsline, no longer even and straight, but zigzag, at differentheights across the paper. 

He came to the door. "What do you think of it?" he inquired. 

"Splendid idea, " I answered enthusiastically. 

Our apartment was, as I have said, modest, consisting of a largeliving room, two bedrooms, and bath--an attractive but not ornateplace, which we found very cosy and comfortable. On one side ofthe room was a big fire place, before which stood a fire screen. We had collected easy chairs and capacious tables and desks. Bookswere scattered about, literally overflowing from the crowdedshelves. On the walls were our favorite pictures, while forornament, I suppose I might mention my typewriter and now and thensome of Craig's wonderful scientific apparatus as satisfying ourlimited desire for the purely aesthetic. 

We entered and fell to work at the aforementioned typewriter, on aspecial Sunday story that I had been forced to neglect. I was notso busy, however, that I did not notice out of the corner of myeye that Kennedy had taken from its cover Elaine Dodge's pictureand was gazing at it ravenously. 

I put my hand surreptitiously over my mouth and coughed. Kennedywheeled on me and I hastily banged a sentence out on the machine, making at least half a dozen mistakes. 

I had finished as much of the article as I could do then and wassmoking and reading it over. Kennedy was still gazing at thepicture Miss Dodge had given him, then moving from place to placeabout the room, evidently wondering where it would look best. Idoubt whether he had done another blessed thing since we returned. 

He tried it on the mantel. That wouldn't do. At last he held it upbeside a picture of Galton, I think, of finger print and eugenicsfame, who hung on the wall directly opposite the fireplace. Hastily he compared the two. Elaine's picture was of precisely thesame size. 

Next he tore out the picture of the scientist and threw itcarelessly into the fireplace. Then he placed Elaine's picture inits place and hung it up again, standing off to admire it. 

I watched him gleefully. Was this Craig? Purposely I moved myelbow suddenly and pushed a book with a bang on the floor. Kennedyactually jumped. I picked up the book with a muttered apology. No, this was not the same old Craig. 

Perhaps half an hour later, I was still reading. Kennedy was nowpacing up and down the room, apparently unable to concentrate hismind on any but one subject. 

He stopped a moment before the photograph, looked at it fixedly. Then he started his methodical walk again, hesitated, and wentover to the telephone, calling a number which I recognized. 

"She must have been pretty well done up by her experience, " hesaid apologetically, catching my eye. "I was wondering if--Hello--oh, Miss Dodge--I--er--I--er--just called up to see if you wereall right. "

Craig was very much embarrassed, but also very much in earnest. 

A musical laugh rippled over the telephone. "Yes, I'm all right, thank you, Mr. Kennedy--and I put the package you sent me into thesafe, but--"

"Package?" frowned Craig. "Why, I sent you no package, Miss Dodge. In the safe?"

"Why, yes, and the safe is all covered with moisture--and socold. "

"Moisture--cold?" he repeated quickly. 

"Yes, I have been wondering if it is all right. In fact, I wasgoing to call you up, only I was afraid you'd think I wasfoolish. "

"I shall be right over, " he answered hastily, clapping thereceiver back on its hook. "Walter, " he added, seizing his hat andcoat, "come on--hurry!"

A few minutes later we drove up in a taxi before the Dodge houseand rang the bell. 

Jennings admitted us sleepily. 

 . . . . . . . . 

It could not have been long after we left Miss Dodge late in theafternoon that Susie Martin, who had been quite worried over ourlong absence after the attempt to rob her father, dropped in onElaine. Wide-eyed, she had listened to Elaine's story of what hadhappened. 

"And you think this Clutching Hand has never recovered theincriminating papers that caused him to murder your father?" askedSusie. 

Elaine shook her head. "No. Let me show you the new safe I'vebought. Mr. Kennedy thinks it wonderful. "

"I should think you'd be proud of it, " admired Susie. "I must tellfather to get one, too. "

At that very moment, if they had known it, the Clutching Hand withhis sinister, masked face, was peering at the two girls from theother side of the portieres. 

Susie rose to go and Elaine followed her to the door. No soonerhad she gone than the Clutching Hand came out from behind thecurtains. He gazed about a moment, then moving over to the safeabout which the two girls had been talking, stealthily examinedit. 

He must have heard someone coming, for, with a gesture of hate atthe safe itself, as though he personified it, he slipped back ofthe curtains again. 

Elaine had returned and as she sat down at the desk to go oversome papers which Bennett had left relative to settling up theestate, the masked intruder stealthily and silently withdrew. 

"A package for you, Miss Dodge, " announced Michael later in theevening as Elaine, in her dainty evening gown, was still engagedin going over the papers. He carried it in his hands rathergingerly. 

"Mr. Kennedy sent it, ma'am. He says it contains clues and willyou please put it in the new safe for him. "

Elaine took the package eagerly and examined it. Then she pulledopen the heavy door of the safe. 

"It must be getting cold out, Michael, " she remarked. "Thispackage is as cold as ice. "

"It is, ma'am, " answered Michael, deferentially with a sidelongglance that did not prevent his watching her intently. 

She closed the safe and, with a glance at her watch, set the timelock and went upstairs to her room. 

No sooner had Elaine disappeared than Michael appeared again, cat-like, through the curtains from the drawing room, and, after aglance about the dimly lighted library, discovering that the coastwas clear, motioned to a figure hiding behind the portieres. 

A moment, and Clutching Hand himself came out. 

He moved over to the safe and looked it over. Then he put out hishand and touched it. 

"Good, Michael, " he exclaimed with satisfaction. 

"Listen!" cautioned Michael. 

Someone was coming and they hastily slunk behind the protectingportieres. It was Marie, Elaine's maid. 

She turned up the lights and went over to the desk for a book forwhich Elaine had evidently sent her. She paused and appeared to belistening. Then she went to the door. 

"Jennings!" she beckoned. 

"What is it, Marie?" he replied. 

She said nothing, but as he came up the hall led him to the centerof the room. 

"Listen! I heard sighs and groans!"

Jennings looked at her a moment, puzzled, then laughed. "Yougirls!" he exclaimed. "I suppose you'll always think the libraryhaunted, now. "

"But, Jennings, listen, " she persisted. 

Jennings did listen. Sure enough, there were sounds, weird, uncanny. He gazed about the room. It was eerie. Then he took a fewsteps toward the safe. Marie put out her hand to it, and startedback. 

"Why, that safe is all covered with cold sweat!" she cried withbated breath. 

Sure enough the face of the safe was beaded with dampness. Jennings put his hand on it and quickly drew it away, leaving amark on the dampness. 

"Wh-what do you think of that?" he gasped. 

"I'm going to tell Miss Dodge, " cried Marie, genuinely frightened. 

A moment later she burst into Elaine's room. 

"What is the matter, Marie?" asked Elaine, laying down her book. "You look as if you had seen a ghost. "

"Ah, but, mademoiselle--it ees just like that. The safe--ifmademoiselle will come downstairs, I will show it you. "

Puzzled but interested, Elaine followed her. In the libraryJennings pointed mutely at the new safe. Elaine approached it. Asthey stood about new beads of perspiration, as it were, formed onit. Elaine touched it, and also quickly withdrew her hand. 

"I can't imagine what's the matter, " she said. "But--well--Jennings, you may go--and Marie, also. "

When the servants had gone she still regarded the safe with thesame wondering look, then turning out the light, she followed. 

She had scarcely disappeared when, from the portiered doorwaynearby, the Clutching Hand appeared, and, after gazing out atthem, took a quick look at the safe. 

"Good!" he muttered. 

Noiselessly Michael of the sinister face moved in and took aposition in the center of the room, as if on guard, whileClutching Hand sat before the safe watching it intently. 

"Someone at the door--Jennings is answering the bell, " Michaelwhispered hoarsely. 

"Confound it!" muttered Clutching Hand, as both moved again behindthe heavy velour curtains. 

 . . . . . . . . 

"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Kennedy, " greeted Elaine unaffectedlyas Jennings admitted us. 

She had heard the bell and was coming downstairs as we entered. Wethree moved toward the library and someone switched on the lights. 

Craig strode over to the safe. The cold sweat on it had now turnedto icicles. Craig's face clouded with thought as he examined itmore closely. There was actually a groaning sound from within. 

"It can't be opened, " he said to himself. "The time lock is setfor tomorrow morning. "

Outside, if we had not been so absorbed in the present mystery, wemight have seen Michael and the Clutching Hand listening to us. Clutching Hand looked hastily at his watch. 

"The deuce!" he muttered under his breath, stifling his suppressedfury. 

We stood looking at the safe. Kennedy was deeply interested, Elaine standing close beside him. Suddenly he seemed to make uphis mind. 

"Quick--Elaine!" he cried, taking her arm. "Stand back!"

We all retreated. The safe door, powerful as it was, had actuallybegun to warp and bend. The plates were bulging. A moment later, with a loud report and concussion the door blew off. 

A blast of cold air and flakes like snow flew out. Papers werescattered on every side. 

We stood gazing, aghast, a second, then ran forward. Kennedyquickly examined the safe. He bent down and from the wreck took upa package, now covered with white. 

As quickly he dropped it. 

"That is the package that was sent, " cried Elaine. 

Taking it in a table cover, he laid it on the table and opened it. Inside was a peculiar shaped flask, open at the top, but like avacuum bottle. 

"A Dewar flask!" ejaculated Craig. 

"What is it?" asked Elaine, appealing to him. 

"Liquid air!" he answered. "As it evaporated, the terrificpressure of expanding air in the safe increased until it blew outthe door. That is what caused the cold sweating and the groans. "

We watched him, startled. 

On the other side of the portieres Michael and Clutching Handwaited. Then, in the general confusion, Clutching Hand slowlydisappeared, foiled. 

"Where did this package come from?" asked Kennedy of Jenningssuspiciously. 

Jennings looked blank. 

"Why, " put in Elaine, "Michael brought it to me. "

"Get Michael, " ordered Kennedy. 

"Yes, sir, " nodded Jennings. 

A moment later he returned. "I found him, going upstairs, "reported Jennings, leading Michael in. 

"Where did you get this package?" shot out Kennedy. 

"It was left at the door, sir, by a boy, sir. "

Question after question could not shake that simple, stolidsentence. Kennedy frowned. 

"You may go, " he said finally, as if reserving something forMichael later. 

A sudden exclamation followed from Elaine as Michael passed downthe hall again. She had moved over to the desk, during thequestioning, and was leaning against it. 

Inadvertently she had touched an envelope. It was addressed, "Craig Kennedy. "

Craig tore it open, Elaine bending anxiously over his shoulder, frightened. 

We read:

"YOU HAVE INTERFERED FOR THE LAST TIME. IT IS THE END. "

Beneath it stood the fearsome sign of the Clutching Hand!

 . . . . . . . . 

The warning of the Clutching Hand had no other effect on Kennedythan the redoubling of his precautions for safety. Nothing furtherhappened that night, however, and the next morning found us earlyat the laboratory. 

It was the late forenoon, when after a hurried trip down to theoffice, I rejoined Kennedy at his scientific workshop. 

We walked down the street when a big limousine shot past. Kennedystopped in the middle of a remark. He had recognized the car, witha sort of instinct. 

At the same moment I saw a smiling face at the window of the car. It was Elaine Dodge. 

The car stopped in something less than twice its length and thenbacked toward us. 

Kennedy, hat off, was at the window in a moment. There were AuntJosephine, and Susie Martin, also. 

"Where are you boys going?" asked Elaine, with interest, thenadded with a gaiety that ill concealed her real anxiety, "I'm soglad to see you--to see that--er--nothing has happened from thatdreadful Clutching Hand. "

"Why, we were just going up to our rooms, " replied Kennedy. 

"Can't we drive you around?"

We climbed in and a moment later were off. The ride was only tooshort for Kennedy. We stepped out in front of our apartment andstood chatting for a moment. 

"Some day I want to show you the laboratory, " Craig was saying. 

"It must be so--interesting!" exclaimed Elaine enthusiastically. "Think of all the bad men you must have caught!"

"I have quite a collection of stuff here at our rooms, " remarkedCraig, "almost a museum. Still, " he ventured, "I can't promisethat the place is in order, " he laughed. 

Elaine hesitated. "Would you like to see it?" she wheedled of AuntJosephine. 

Aunt Josephine nodded acquiescence, and a moment later we allentered the building. 

"You--you are very careful since that last warning?" asked Elaineas we approached our door. 

"More than ever--now, " replied Craig. "I have made up my mind towin. "

She seemed to catch at the words as though they had a hiddenmeaning, looking first at him and then away, not displeased. 

Kennedy had started to unlock the door, when he stopped short. 

"See, " he said, "this is a precaution I have just installed. Ialmost forgot in the excitement. "

He pressed a panel and disclosed the box-like apparatus. 

"This is my seismograph which tells me whether I have had anyvisitors in my absence. If the pen traces a straight line, it is, all right; but if--hello--Walter, the line is wavy. "

We exchanged a significant glance. 

"Would you mind--er--standing down the hall just a bit while Ienter?" asked Craig. 

"Be careful, " cautioned Elaine. 

He unlocked the door, standing off to one side. Then he extendedhis hand across the doorway. Still nothing happened. There was nota sound. He looked cautiously into the room. Apparently there wasnothing. 

 . . . . . . . . 

It had been about the middle of the morning that an express wagonhad pulled up sharply before our apartment. 

"Mr. Kennedy live here?" asked one of the expressmen, descendingwith his helper and approaching our janitor, Jens Jensen, atypical Swede, who was coming up out of the basement. 

Jens growled a surly, "Yes--but Mr. Kannady, he bane out. "

"Too bad--we've got this large cabinet he ordered from GrandRapids. We can't cart it around all day. Can't you let us in so wecan leave it?"

Jensen muttered. "Wall--I guess it bane all right. "

They took the cabinet off the wagon and carried it upstairs. Jensen opened our door, still grumbling, and they placed the heavycabinet in the living room. 

"Sign here. "

"You fallers bane a nuisance, " protested Jens, signingnevertheless. 

Scarcely had the sound ox their footfalls died away in the outsidehallway when the door of the cabinet slowly opened and a maskedface protruded, gazing about the room. 

It was the Clutching Hand!

From the cabinet he took a large package wrapped in newspapers. Ashe held it, looking keenly about, his eye rested on Elaine'spicture. A moment he looked at it, then quickly at the fireplaceopposite. 

An idea seemed to occur to him. He took the package to thefireplace, removed the screen, and laid the package over theandirons with one end pointing out into the room. 

Next he took from the cabinet a couple of storage batteries and acoil of wire. Deftly and quickly he fixed them on the package. 

Meanwhile, before an alleyway across the street and further downthe long block the express wagon had stopped. The driver and hishelper clambered out and for a moment stood talking in low tones, with covert glances at our apartment. They moved into the alleyand the driver drew out a battered pair of opera glasses, levelling them at our windows. 

Having completed fixing the batteries and wires, Clutching Handran the wires along the moulding on the wall overhead, from thefireplace until he was directly over Elaine's picture. Skillfully, he managed to fix the wires, using them in place of the picturewires to support the framed photograph. Then he carefully movedthe photograph until it hung very noticeably askew on the wall. 

The last wire joined, he looked about the room, then noiselesslymoved to the window and raised the shade. 

Quickly he raised his hand and brought the fingers slowlytogether. It was the sign. 

Off in the alley, the express driver and his helper were stillgazing up through the opera glass. 

"What d'ye see, Bill?" he asked, handing over the glass. 

The other took it and looked. "It's him--the Hand, Jack, "whispered the helper, handing the glasses back. 

They jumped into the wagon and away it rattled. 

Jensen was smoking placidly as the wagon pulled up the secondtime. 

"Sorry, " said the driver sheepishly, "but we delivered the cabinetto the wrong Mr. Kennedy. "

He pulled out the inevitable book to prove it. 

"Wall, you bane fine fallers, " growled Jensen, puffing like afurnace, in his fury. "You cannot go up agane. "

"We'll get fired for the mistake, " pleaded the helper. 

"Just this once, " urged the driver, as he rattled some loosechange in his pocket. "Here--there goes a whole day's tips. "

He handed Jens a dollar in small change. 

Still grumpy but mollified by the silver Jens let them go up andopened the door to our rooms again. There stood the cabinet, asoutwardly innocent as when it came in. 

Lugging and tugging they managed to get the heavy piece offurniture out and downstairs again, loading it on the wagon. Thenthey drove off with it, accompanied by a parting volley fromJensen. 

In an unfrequented street, perhaps half a mile away, the wagonstopped. With a keen glance around, the driver and his helper madesure that no one was about. 

"Such a shaking up as you've given me!" growled a voice as thecabinet door opened. "But I've got him this time!"

It was the Clutching Hand. 

"There, men, you can leave me here, " he ordered. 

He motioned to them to drive off and, as they did so, pulled offhis masking handkerchief and dived into a narrow street leading upto a thoroughfare. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Craig gazed into our living room cautiously. 

"I can't see anything wrong, " he said to me as I stood just besidehim. "Miss Dodge, " he added, "will you and the rest excuse me if Iask you to wait just a moment longer?"

Elaine watched him, fascinated. He crossed the room, then wentinto each of our other rooms. Apparently nothing was wrong and aminute later he reappeared at the doorway. 

"I guess it's all right, " he said. "Perhaps it was only Jensen, the janitor. "

Elaine, Aunt Josephine and Susie Martin entered. Craig placedchairs for them, but still I could see that he was uneasy. Fromtime to time, while they were admiring one of our treasures afteranother, he glanced about suspiciously. Finally he moved over to acloset and flung the door open, ready for anything. No one was inthe closet and he closed it hastily. 

"What is the trouble, do you think?" asked Elaine wonderingly, noticing his manner. 

"I--I can't just say, " answered Craig, trying to appear easy. 

She had risen and with keen interest was looking at the books, thepictures, the queer collection of weapons and odds and ends fromthe underworld that Craig had amassed in his adventures. 

At last her eye wandered across the room. She caught sight of herown picture, occupying a place of honor--but hanging askew. 

"Isn't that just like a man!" she exclaimed laughingly. "Suchhousekeepers as you are--such carelessness!"

She had taken a step or two across the room to straighten thepicture. 

"Miss Dodge!" almost shouted Kennedy, his face fairly blanched, "Stop!"

She turned, her stunning eyes filled with amazement at hissuddenness. Nevertheless she moved quickly to one side, as hewaved his arms, unable to speak quickly enough. 

Kennedy stood quite still, gazing at the picture, askew, withsuspicion. 

"That wasn't that way when we left, was it, Walter?" he asked. 

"It certainly was not, " I answered positively, "There was moretime spent in getting that picture just right than I ever saw youspend on all the rest of the room. "

Craig frowned. 

As for myself, I did not know what to make of it. 

"I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to step into this back room, "said Craig at length to the ladies. "I'm sorry--but we can't betoo careful with this intruder, whoever he was. "

They rose, surprised, but, as he continued to urge them, theymoved into my room. 

Elaine, however, stopped at the door. 

For a moment Kennedy appeared to be considering. Then his eye fellon a fishing rod that stood in a corner. He took it and movedtoward the picture. 

On his hands and knees, to one side, down as close as he could getto the floor, with the rod extended at arm's length, he motionedto me to do the same, behind him. 

Elaine, unable to repress her interest took a half step forward, breathless, from the doorway, while Susie Martin and AuntJosephine stood close behind her. 

Carefully Kennedy reached out with the pole and straightened thepicture. 

As he did so there was a flash, a loud, deafening report, and agreat puff of smoke from the fireplace. 

The fire screen was riddled and overturned. A charge of buckshotshattered the precious photograph of Elaine. 

We had dropped flat on the floor at the report. I looked about. Kennedy was unharmed, and so were the rest. 

With a bound he was at the fireplace, followed by Elaine and therest of us. There, in what remained of a package done up roughlyin newspaper, was a shot gun with its barrel sawed off about sixinches from the lock, fastened to a block of wood, and connectedto a series of springs on the trigger, released by a littleelectromagnetic arrangement actuated by two batteries and leadingby wires up along the moulding to the picture where the slightesttouch would complete the circuit. 

The newspapers which were wrapped about the deadly thing wereburning, and Kennedy quickly tore them off, throwing them into thefireplace. 

A startled cry from Elaine caused us to turn. 

She was standing directly before her shattered picture where ithung awry on the wall. The heavy charges of buckshot had knockedaway large pieces of paper and plaster under it. 

"Craig!" she gasped. 

He was at her side in a second. 

She laid one hand on his arm, as she faced him. With the other shetraced an imaginary line in the air from the level of the buckshotto his head and then straight to the infernal thing that had lainin the fireplace. 

"And to think, " she shuddered, "that it was through ME that hetried to kill you!"

"Never mind, " laughed Craig easily, as they gazed into eachother's eyes, drawn together by their mutual peril, "ClutchingHand will have to be cleverer than this to get either of us--Elaine!"

CHAPTER V

THE POISONED ROOM

Elaine and Craig were much together during the next few days. 

Somehow or other, it seemed that the chase of the Clutching Handinvolved long conferences in the Dodge library and even, in fact, extended to excursions into that notoriously crime-infestedneighborhood of Riverside Drive with its fashionable processionsof automobiles and go-carts--as far north, indeed, as thatdesperate haunt known as Grant's Tomb. 

More than that, these delvings into the underworld involvedKennedy in the necessity of wearing a frock coat and silk hat inthe afternoon, and I found that he was selecting his neckwear witha care that had been utterly foreign to him during all the yearsprevious that I had known him. 

It all looked very suspicious to me. 

But, to return to the more serious side of the affair. 

Kennedy and Elaine had scarcely come out of the house anddescended the steps, one afternoon, when a sinister face appearedin a basement areaway nearby. 

The figure was crouched over, with his back humped up almost as ifdeformed, and his left hand had an unmistakable twist. 

It was the Clutching Hand. 

He wore a telephone inspector's hat and coat and carried a bagslung by a strap over his shoulder. For once he had left off hismask, but, in place of it, his face was covered by a scragglyblack beard. In fact, he seemed to avoid turning his face full, three-quarters or even profile to anyone, unless he had to do so. As much as possible he averted it, but he did so in a clever waythat made it seem quite natural. The disguise was effective. 

He saw Kennedy and Miss Dodge and slunk unobtrusively against arailing, with his head turned away. Laughing and chatting, theypassed. As they walked down the street, Clutching Hand turned andgazed after them. Involuntarily the menacing hand clutched in openhatred. 

Then he turned in the other direction and, going up the steps ofthe Dodge house, rang the bell. 

"Telephone inspector, " he said in a loud tone as Michael, inJennings' place for the afternoon, opened the door. 

He accompanied the words with the sign and Michael, taking carethat the words be heard, in case anyone was listening, admittedhim. 

As it happened, Aunt Josephine was upstairs in Elaine's room. Shewas fixing flowers in a vase on the dressing table of her idolizedniece. Meanwhile, Rusty, the collie, lay, half blinking, on thefloor. 

"Who is this?" she asked, as Michael led the bogus telephoneinspector into the room. 

"A man from the telephone company, " he answered deferentially. 

Aunt Josephine, unsophisticated, allowed them to enter without afurther question. 

Quickly, like a good workman, Clutching Hand went to the telephoneinstrument and by dint of keeping his finger on the hook and hisback to Aunt Josephine succeeded in conveying the illusion that hewas examining it. 

Aunt Josephine moved to the door. Not so, Rusty. He did not likethe looks of the stranger and he had no scruples against lettingit be known. 

As she put her hand on the knob to go out into the hall, Rustyuttered a low growl which grew into a full-lunged snarl at theClutching Hand. Clutching Hand kicked at him vigorously, ifsurreptitiously. Rusty barked. 

"Lady, " he disguised his voice, "will yer please ter call off thedog? Me and him don't seem to cotton to each other. "

"Here, Rusty, " she commanded, "down!"

Together Aunt Josephine and Michael removed the still protestingRusty. 

No sooner was the door shut than the Clutching Hand moved overswiftly to it. For a few seconds, he stood gazing at them as theydisappeared down-stairs. Then he came back into the center of theroom. 

Hastily he opened his bag and from it drew a small powder-sprayingoutfit such as I have seen used for spraying bug-powder. He thentook out a sort of muzzle with an elastic band on it and slippedit over his head so that the muzzle protected his nose and mouth. 

He seemed to work a sort of pumping attachment and from the nozzleof the spraying instrument blew out a cloud of powder which hedirected at the wall. 

The wall paper was one of those rich, fuzzy varieties and itseemed to catch the powder. Clutching Hand appeared to be morethan satisfied with the effect. 

Meanwhile, Michael, in the hallway, on guard to see that no onebothered the Clutching Hand at his work, was overcome by curiosityto see what his master was doing. He opened the door a little bitand gazed stealthily through the crack into the room. 

Clutching Hand was now spraying the rug close to the dressingtable of Elaine and was standing near the mirror. He stooped downto examine the rug. Then, as he raised his head, he happened tolook into the mirror. In it he could see the full reflection ofMichael behind him, gazing into the room. 

"The scoundrel!" muttered Clutching Hand, with repressed fury atthe discovery. 

He rose quickly and shut off the spraying instrument, stuffing itinto the bag. He took a step or two toward the door. Michael drewback, fearfully, pretending now to be on guard. 

Clutching Hand opened the door and, still wearing the muzzle, beckoned to Michael. Michael could scarcely control his fears. Buthe obeyed, entering Elaine's room after the Clutching Hand, wholocked the door. 

"Were you watching me?" demanded the master criminal, with rage. 

Michael, trembling all over, shook his head. For a momentClutching Hand looked him over disdainfully at the clumsy lie. 

Then he brutally struck Michael in the face, knocking him down. Anungovernable, almost insane fury seemed to possess the man as hestood over the prostrate footman, cursing. 

"Get up!" he ordered. 

Michael obeyed, thoroughly cowed. 

"Take me to the cellar, now, " he demanded. 

Michael led the way from the room without a protest, the mastercriminal following him closely. 

Down into the cellar, by a back way, they went, Clutching Handstill wearing his muzzle and Michael saying not a word. 

Suddenly Clutching Hand turned on him and seized him by thecollar. 

"Now, go upstairs, you, " he muttered, shaking him until his teethfairly chattered, "and if you watch me again--I'll kill you!"

He thrust Michael away and the footman, overcome by fear, hurriedupstairs. Still trembling and fearful, Michael paused In thehallway, looking back resentfully, for even one who is in thepower of a super-criminal is still human and has feelings that maybe injured. 

Michael put his hand on his face where the Clutching Hand hadstruck him. There he waited, muttering to himself. As he thoughtit over, anger took the place of fear. He slowly turned in thedirection of the cellar. Closing both his fists, Michael made athreatening gesture at his master in crime. 

Meanwhile, Clutching Hand was standing by the electric meter. Heexamined it carefully, feeling where the wires entered and left itstarting to trace them out. At last he came to a point where itseemed suitable to make a connection for some purpose he had inmind. 

Quickly he took some wire from his bag and connected it with theelectric light wires. Next, he led these wires, concealed ofcourse, along the cellar floor, in the direction of the furnace. 

The furnace was one of the old hot air heaters and he pausedbefore it as though seeking something. Then he bent down beside itand uncovered a little tank. He took off the top on which werecast in the iron the words:

"This tank must be kept full of water. "

He thrust his hand gingerly into it, bringing it out quickly. Thetank was nearly full of water and he brought his hand out wet. Itwas also hot. But he did not seem to mind that, for he shook hishead with a smile of satisfaction. 

Next, from his capacious bag he took two metal poles, orelectrodes, and fastened them carefully to the ends of the wires, placing them at opposite ends of the tank in the water. 

For several moments he watched. The water inside the tank seemedthe same as before, only on each electrode there appeared bubbles, on one bubbles of oxygen, on the other of hydrogen. The water wasdecomposing under the current by electrolysis. 

Another moment he surveyed his work to see that he had left noloose ends. Then he picked up his bag and moved toward the cellarsteps. As he did so, he removed the muzzle from his nose andquietly let himself out of the house. 

 . . . . . . . . 

The next morning, Rusty, who had been Elaine's constant companionsince the trouble had begun, awakened his mistress by licking herhand as it hung limply over the side of her bed. 

She awakened with a start and put her hand to her head. She feltill. 

"Poor old fellow, " she murmured, half dazedly, for the momentendowing her pet with her own feelings, as she patted his faithfulshaggy head. 

Rusty moved away again, wagging his tail listlessly. The collie, too, felt ill. Elaine watched him as he walked, dejected, acrossthe room and then lay down. 

"Why, Miss Elaine--what ees ze mattair? You are so pale!"exclaimed the maid, Marie, as she entered the room a moment laterwith the morning's mail on a salver. 

"I don't feel well, Marie, " she replied, trying with her slenderwhite hand to brush the cobwebs from her brain. "I--I wish you'dtell Aunt Josephine to telephone Dr. Hayward. "

"Yes, mademoiselle, " answered Marie, deftly and sympatheticallystraightening out the pillows. 

Languidly Elaine took the letters one by one off the salver. Shelooked at them, but seemed not to have energy enough to open them. 

Finally she selected one and slowly tore it open. It had nosuperscription, but it at once arrested her attention andtransfixed her with terror. 

It read:

"YOU ARE SICK THIS MORNING. TOMORROW YOU WILL BE WORSE. THE NEXTDAY YOU WILL DIE UNLESS YOU DISCHARGE CRAIG KENNEDY. "

It was signed by the mystic trademark of the fearsome ClutchingHand!

Elaine drew back into the pillows, horror stricken. 

Quickly she called to Marie. "Go--get Aunt Josephine--right away!"

As Marie almost flew down the hall, Elaine still holding theletter convulsively, pulled herself together and got up, trembling. She almost seized the telephone as she called Kennedy'snumber. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Kennedy, in his stained laboratory apron, was at work before histable, while I was watching him with intense interest, when thetelephone rang. 

Without a word he answered the call and I could see a look ofperturbation cross his face. I knew it was from Elaine, but couldtell nothing about the nature of the message. 

An instant later he almost tore off the apron and threw on his hatand coat. I followed him as he dashed out of the laboratory. 

"This is terrible--terrible, " he muttered, as we hurried acrossthe campus of the University to a taxi-cab stand. 

A few minutes later, when we arrived at the Dodge mansion, wefound Aunt Josephine and Marie doing all they could under thecircumstances. Aunt Josephine had just given her a glass of waterwhich she drank eagerly. Rusty had, meanwhile, crawled under thebed, caring only to be alone and undisturbed. 

Dr. Hayward had arrived and had just finished taking her pulse andtemperature as our cab pulled up. 

Jennings who had evidently been expecting us let us in without aword and conducted us up to Elaine's room. We knocked. 

"Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Jameson, " we could hear Marie whisper in asubdued voice. 

"Tell them to come in, " answered Elaine eagerly. 

We entered. There she lay, beautiful as ever, but with a whitenessof her fresh cheek that was too etherially unnatural. Elaine wasquite ill indeed. 

"Oh--I'm so glad to see you, " she breathed, with an air of reliefas Kennedy advanced. 

"Why--what is the matter?" asked Craig, anxiously. 

Dr. Hayward shook his head dubiously, but Kennedy did not noticehim, for, as he approached Elaine, she drew from the covers whereshe had concealed it a letter and handed it to him. 

Craig took it and read:

"YOU ARE SICK THIS MORNING. TOMORROW YOU WILL BE WORSE. THE NEXTDAY YOU WILL DIE UNLESS YOU DISCHARGE CRAIG KENNEDY. "

At the signature of the Clutching Hand he frowned, then, noticingDr. Hayward, turned to him and repeated his question, "What is thematter?"

Dr. Hayward continued shaking his head. "I cannot diagnose hersymptoms, " he shrugged. 

As I watched Kennedy's face, I saw his nostrils dilating, almostas if he were a hound and had scented his quarry. I sniffed, too. There seemed to be a faint odor, almost as if of garlic, in theroom. It was unmistakable and Craig looked about him curiously butsaid nothing. 

As he sniffed, he moved impatiently and his foot touched Rusty, under the bed. Rusty whined and moved back lazily. Craig bent overand looked at him. 

"What's the matter with Rusty?" he asked. "Is he sick, too?"

"Why--yes, " answered Elaine, following Craig with her deep eyes. "Poor Rusty. He woke me up this morning. He feels as badly as Ido, poor old fellow. "

Craig reached down and gently pulled the collie out into the room. Rusty crouched down close to the floor. His nose was hot and dryand feverish. He was plainly ill. 

"How long has Rusty been in the room?" asked Craig. 

"All night, " answered Elaine. "I wouldn't think of being withouthim now. "

Kennedy lifted the dog by his front paws. Rusty submittedpatiently, but without any spirit. 

"May I take Rusty along with me?" he asked finally. 

Elaine hesitated. "Surely, " she said at length, "only, be gentlewith him. "

Craig looked at her as though it would be impossible to beotherwise with anything belonging to Elaine. 

"Of course, " he said simply. "I thought that I might be able todiscover the trouble from studying him. "

We stayed only a few minutes longer, for Kennedy seemed to realizethe necessity of doing something immediately and even Dr. Haywardwas fighting in the dark. As for me, I gave it up, too. I couldfind no answer to the mystery of what was the peculiar malady ofElaine. 

Back in the laboratory, Kennedy set to work immediately, brushingeverything else aside. He began by drawing off a little of Rusty'sblood in a tube, very carefully. 

"Here, Walter, " he said pointing to the little incision he hadmade. "Will you take care of him?"

I bound up the wounded leg and gave the poor beast a drink ofwater. Rusty looked at me gratefully from his big sad brown eyes. He seemed to appreciate our gentleness and to realize that we weretrying to help him. 

In the meantime, Craig had taken a flask with a rubber stopper. Through one hole in it was fitted a long funnel; through anotherran a glass tube. The tube connected with a large U-shaped dryingtube filled with calcium chloride, which, in turn, connected witha long open tube with an upturned end. 

Into the flask, Craig dropped some pure granulated zinc. Then hecovered it with dilute sulphuric acid, poured in through thefunnel tube. 

"That forms hydrogen gas, " he explained to me, "which passesthrough the drying tube and the ignition tube. Wait a moment untilall the air is expelled from the tubes. "

He lighted a match and touched it to the open, upturned end. Thehydrogen, now escaping freely, was ignited with a pale blue flame. 

A few moments later, having extracted something like a serum fromthe blood he had drawn off from Rusty. He added the extract to themixture in the flask, pouring it in, also through the funnel tube. 

Almost immediately the pale, bluish flame turned to bluish white, and white fumes were formed. In the ignition tube a sort ofmetallic deposit appeared. 

Quickly Craig made one test after another. 

As he did so, I sniffed. There was an unmistakable odor of garlicin the air which made me think of what I had already noticed inElaine's room. 

"What is it?" I asked, mystified. 

"Arseniuretted hydrogen, " he answered, still engaged in verifyinghis tests. "This is the Marsh test for arsenic. "

I gazed from Kennedy to the apparatus, then to Rusty and a pictureof Elaine, pale and listless, flashed before me. 

"Arsenic!" I repeated in horror. 

 . . . . . . . . 

I had scarcely recovered from the surprise of Kennedy's startlingrevelation when the telephone rang again. Kennedy seized thereceiver, thinking evidently that the message might be from orabout Elaine. 

But from the look on his face and from his manner, I could gatherthat, although it was not from Elaine herself, it was aboutsomething that interested him greatly. As he talked, he took hislittle notebook and hastily jotted down something in it. Still, Icould not make out what the conversation was about. 

"Good!" I heard him say finally. "I shall keep the appointment--absolutely. "

His face wore a peculiar puzzled look as he hung up the receiver. 

"What was it?" I asked eagerly. 

"It was Elaine's footman, Michael, " he replied thoughtfully. "As Isuspected, he says that he is a confederate of the Clutching Handand if we will protect him he will tell us the trouble withElaine. "

I considered a moment. "How's that?" I queried. 

"Well, " added Craig, "you see, Michael has become infuriated bythe treatment he received from the Clutching Hand. I believe hecuffed him in the face yesterday. Anyway, he says he hasdetermined to get even and betray him. So, after hearing howElaine was, he slipped out of the servant's door and looking aboutcarefully to see that he wasn't followed, he went straight to adrug store and called me up. He seemed extremely nervous andfearful. "

I did not like the looks of the thing, and said so. "Craig, " Iobjected vehemently, "don't go to meet him. It is a trap. "

Kennedy had evidently considered my objection already. 

"It may be a trap, " he replied slowly, "but Elaine is dying andwe've got to see this thing through. "

As he spoke, he took an automatic from a drawer of a cabinet andthrust it into his pocket. Then he went to another drawer and tookout several sections of thin tubing which seemed to be made tofasten together as a fishing pole is fastened, but were nowseparate, as if ready for travelling. 

"Well--are you coming, Walter?" he asked finally--the only answerto my flood of caution. 

Then he went out. I followed, still arguing. 

"If YOU go, _I_ go, " I capitulated. "That's all there is to it. "

Following the directions that Michael had given over the telephoneCraig led me into one of the toughest parts of the lower WestSide. 

"Here's the place, " he announced, stopping across the street froma dingy Raines Law Hotel. 

"Pretty tough, " I objected. "Are you sure?"

"Quite, " replied Kennedy, consulting his note book again. 

"Well, I'll be hanged if I'll go in that joint, " I persisted. 

It had no effect on Kennedy. "Nonsense, Walter, " he replied, crossing the street. 

Reluctantly I followed and we entered the place. 

"I want a room, " asked Craig as we were accosted by theproprietor, comfortably clad in a loud checked suit and stripedshirt sleeves. "I had one here once before--forty-nine, I think. "

"Fifty--" I began to correct. 

Kennedy trod hard on my toes. 

"Yes, forty-nine, " he repeated. 

The proprietor called a stout negro porter, waiter, and bell-hopall combined in one, who led us upstairs. 

"Fohty-nine, sah, " he pointed out, as Kennedy dropped a dime intohis ready palm. 

The negro left us and as Craig started to enter, I objected, "But, Craig, it was fifty-nine, not forty-nine. This is the wrong room. "

"I know it, " he replied. "I had it written in the book. But I wantforty-nine--now. Just follow me, Walter. "

Nervously I followed him into the room. 

"Don't you understand?" he went on. "Room forty-nine is probablyjust the same as fifty-nine, except perhaps the pictures andfurniture, only it is on the floor below. "

He gazed about keenly. Then he took a few steps to the window andthrew it open. As he stood there he took the parts of the rods hehad been carrying and fitted them together until he had a polesome eight or ten feet long. At one end was a curious arrangementthat seemed to contain lenses and a mirror. At the other end wasan eye-piece, as nearly as I could make out. 

"What is that?" I asked as he completed his work. 

"That? That is an instrument something on the order of a miniaturesubmarine periscope, " Craig replied, still at work. 

I watched him, fascinated at his resourcefulness. He stealthilythrust the mirror end of the periscope out of the window and uptoward the corresponding window up stairs. Then he gazed eagerlythrough the eye-piece. 

"Walter--look!" he exclaimed to me. 

I did. There, sure enough, was Michael, pacing up and down theroom. He had already preceded us. In his scared and stealthymanner, he had entered the Raines Law hotel which announced"Furnished Rooms for Gentlemen Only. " There he had sought a room, fifty-nine, as he had said. 

As he came into the room, he had looked about, overcome by theenormity of what he was about to do. He locked the door. Still, hehad not been able to avoid gazing about fearfully, as he was doingnow that we saw him. 

Nothing had happened. Yet he brushed his hand over his foreheadand breathed a sigh of relief. The air seemed to be stifling himand already he had gone to the window and thrown it open. Then hehad gazed out as though there might be some unknown peril in thevery air. He had now drawn back from the window and wasconsidering. He was actually trembling. Should he flee? Hewhistled softly to himself to keep his shaking fears undercontrol. Then he started to pace up and down the room in nervousimpatience and irresolution. 

As I looked at him nervously walking to and fro, I could not helpadmitting that things looked safe enough and all right to me. Kennedy folded the periscope up and we left our room, mounting theremaining flight of stairs. 

In fifty-nine we could hear the measured step of the footman. Craig knocked. The footsteps ceased. Then the door opened slowlyand I could see a cold blue automatic. 

"Look out!" I cried. 

Michael in his fear had drawn a gun. 

"It's all right, Michael, " reassured Craig calmly. "All right, Walter, " he added to me. 

The gun dropped back into the footman's pocket. We entered andMichael again locked the door. Not a word had been spoken by himso far. 

Next Michael moved to the center of the room and, as I realizedlater, brought himself in direct lines with the open window. Heseemed to be overcome with fear at his betrayal and stood therebreathing heavily. 

"Professor Kennedy, " he began, "I have been so mistreated that Ihave made up my mind to tell you all I know about this Clutching--"

Suddenly he drew a sharp breath and both his hands clutched at hisown breast. He did not stagger and fall in the ordinary manner, but seemed to bend at the knees and waist and literally crumpledown on his face. 

We ran to him. Craig turned him over gently on his back andexamined him. He called. No answer. Michael was almost pulseless. 

Quickly Craig tore off his collar and bared his breast, for theman seemed to be struggling for breath. As he did so, he drew fromMichael's chest a small, sharp-pointed dart. 

"What's that?" I ejaculated, horror stricken. 

"A poisoned blow gun dart such as is used by the South AmericanIndians on the upper Orinoco, " he said slowly. 

He examined it carefully. 

"What is the poison?" I asked. 

"Curari, " he replied simply. "It acts on the respiratory muscles, paralyzing them, and causing asphyxiation. "

The dart seemed to have been made of a quill with a very sharppoint, hollow, and containing the deadly poison in the sharpenedend. 

"Look out!" I cautioned as he handled it. 

"Oh, that's all right, " he answered casually. "If I don't scratchmyself, I am safe enough. I could swallow the stuff and itwouldn't hurt me--unless I had an abrasion of the lips or someinternal cut. "

Kennedy continued to examine the dart until suddenly I heard a lowexclamation of surprise from him. Inside the hollow quill was athin sheet of tissue paper, tightly rolled. He drew it out andread:

"To know me is DEATH Kennedy--Take Warning!"

Underneath was the inevitable Clutching Hand sign. 

We jumped to our feet. Kennedy rushed to the window and slammed itshut, while I seized the key from Michael's pocket, opened thedoor and called for help. 

A moment before, on the roof of a building across the street, onemight have seen a bent, skulking figure. His face was coppercolored and on his head was a thick thatch of matted hair. Helooked like a South American Indian, in a very dilapidated suit ofcastoff American clothes. 

He had slipped out through a doorway leading to a flight of stepsfrom the roof to the hallway of the tenement. His fatal dart senton its unerring mission with a precision born of long years in theSouth American jungle, he concealed the deadly blow-gun in hisbreast pocket, with a cruel smile, and, like one of his nativevenomous serpents, wormed his way down the stairs again. 

 . . . . . . . . 

My outcry brought a veritable battalion of aid. The hotelproprietor, the negro waiter, and several others dashed upstairs, followed shortly by a portly policeman, puffing at the exertion. 

"What's the matter, here?" he panted. "Ye're all under arrest!"

Kennedy quietly pulled out his card case and taking the policemanaside showed it to him. 

"We had an appointment to meet this man--in that Clutching Handcase, you know. He is Miss Dodge's footman, " Craig explained. 

Then he took the policeman into his confidence, showing him thedart and explaining about the poison. The officer stared blankly. 

"I must get away, too, " hurried on Craig. "Officer, I will leaveyou to take charge here. You can depend on me for the inquest. "

The officer nodded. 

"Come on, Walter, " whispered Craig, eager to get away, then addingthe one word, "Elaine!"

I followed hastily, not slow to understand his fear for her. 

Nor were Craig's fears groundless. In spite of all that could bedone for her, Elaine was still in bed, much weaker now thanbefore. While we had been gone, Dr. Hayward, Aunt Josephine andMarie were distracted. 

More than that, the Clutching Hand had not neglected theopportunity, either. 

Suddenly, just before our return, a stone had come hurtlingthrough the window, without warning of any kind, and had landed onElaine's bed. 

Below, as we learned some time afterwards, a car had drawn uphastily and the evil-faced crook whom the Clutching Hand had usedto rid himself of the informer, "Limpy Red, " had leaped out andhurled the stone through the window, as quickly leaping back intothe car and whisking away. 

Elaine had screamed. All had reached for the stone. But she hadbeen the first to seize it and discover that around it was wrappeda piece of paper on which was the ominous warning, signed as usualby the Hand:

"Michael is dead. Tomorrow, you. Then Kennedy. Stop before it istoo late. "

Elaine had sunk back into her pillows, paler than ever from thissecond shock, while the others, as they read the note, wereovercome by alarm and despair, at the suddenness of the thing. 

It was just then that Kennedy and I arrived and were admitted. 

"Oh, Mr. Kennedy, " cried Elaine, handing him the note. 

Craig took it and read. "Miss Dodge, " he said, as he held the noteout to me, "you are suffering from arsenic poisoning--but I don'tknow yet how it is being administered. "

He gazed about keenly. Meanwhile, I had taken the crumpled notefrom him and was reading it. Somehow, I had leaned against thewall. As I turned, Craig happened to glance at me. 

"For heaven's sake, Walter, " I heard him exclaim. "What have youbeen up against?"

He fairly leaped at me and I felt him examining my shoulder whereI had been leaning on the wall. Something on the paper had comeoff and had left a white mark on my shoulder. Craig looked puzzledfrom me to the wall. 

"Arsenic!" he cried. 

He whipped out a pocket lens and looked at the paper. "This heavyfuzzy paper is fairly loaded with it, powdered, " he reported. 

I looked, too. The powdered arsenic was plainly discernible. "Yes, here it is, " he continued, standing absorbed in thought. "But whydid it work so effectively?"

He sniffed as he had before. So did I. There was still the faintsmell of garlic. Kennedy paced the room. Suddenly, pausing by theregister, an idea seemed to strike him. 

"Walter, " he whispered, "come down cellar with me. "

"Oh--be careful, " cried Elaine, anxious for him. 

"I will, " he called back. 

As he flashed his pocket electric bull's-eye about, his gaze fellon the electric meter. He paused before it. In spite of the factthat it was broad daylight, it was running. His face puckered. 

"They are using no current at present in the house, " he ruminated. "Yet the meter is running. "

He continued to examine the meter. Then he began to follow theelectric wires along. At last he discovered a place where they hadbeen tampered with and tapped by other wires. 

"The work of the Clutching Hand!" he muttered. 

Eagerly he followed the wires to the furnace and around to theback. There they led right into a little water tank. Kennedyyanked them out. As he did so he pulled something with them. 

"Two electrodes--the villain placed there, " he exclaimed, holdingthem up triumphantly for me to see. 

"Y-yes, " I replied dubiously, "but what does it all mean?"

"Why, don't you see? Under the influence of the electric currentthe water was decomposed and gave off oxygen and hydrogen. Thefree hydrogen passed up the furnace pipe and combining with thearsenic in the wall paper formed the deadly arseniurettedhydrogen. "

He cast the whole improvised electrolysis apparatus on the floorand dashed up the cellar steps. 

"I've found it!" he cried, hurrying into Elaine's room. "It's inthis room--a deadly gas--arseniuretted hydrogen. "

He tore open the windows and threw them all open. "Have hermoved, " he cried to Aunt Josephine. "Then have a vacuum cleaner goover every inch of wall, carpet and upholstery. "

Standing beside her, he breathlessly explained his discovery. "That wall paper has been loaded down with arsenic, probably Parisgreen or Schweinfurth green, which is aceto-arsenite of copper. Every minute you are here, you are breathing arseniurettedhydrogen. The Clutching Hand has cleverly contrived to introducethe nascent gas into the room. That acts on the arsenic compoundsin the wall paper and hangings and sets free the gas. I thought Iknew the smell the moment I got a whiff of it. You are slowlybeing poisoned by minute quantities of the deadly gas. ThisClutching Hand is a diabolical genius. Think of it--poisoned wallpaper!"

No one said a word. Kennedy reached down and took the twoClutching Hand messages Elaine had received. "I shall want tostudy these notes, more, too, " he said, holding them up to thewall at the head of the bed as he flashed his pocket lens at them. "You see, Elaine, I may be able to get something from studying theink, the paper, the handwriting--"

Suddenly both leaped back, with a cry. 

Their faces had been several inches apart. Something had whizzedbetween them and literally impaled the two notes on the wall. 

Down the street, on the roof of a carriage house, back of aneighbor's, might have been seen the uncouth figure of thedilapidated South American Indian crouching behind a chimney andgazing intently at the Dodge house. 

As Craig had thrown open Elaine's window and turned to Elaine, thefigure had crouched closer to his chimney. 

Then with an uncanny determination he slowly raised the blow-gunto his lips. 

I jumped forward, followed by Dr. Hayward, Aunt Josephine, andMarie. Kennedy had a peculiar look as he pulled out from the walla blow-gun dart similar in every way to that which had killedMichael. 

"Craig!" gasped Elaine, reaching up and laying her soft white handon his arm in undisguised fear for him, "you--you must give upthis chase for the Clutching Hand!"

"Give up the chase for the Clutching Hand?" he repeated insurprise. "Never! Not until either he or I is dead!"

There was both fear and admiration mingled in her look, as hereached down and patted her dainty shoulder encouragingly. 

CHAPTER VI

THE VAMPIRE

Kennedy went the next day to the Dodge house, and, as usual, PerryBennett was there in the library with Elaine, still going over theClutching Hand case, in their endeavor to track down themysterious master criminal. 

Bennett seemed as deeply as ever in love with Elaine. Still, asJennings admitted Craig, it was sufficiently evident by the mannerin which Elaine left Bennett and ran to meet Craig that she hadthe highest regard for him. 

"I've brought you a little document that may interest you, "remarked Kennedy, reaching into his pocket and pulling out anenvelope. 

Elaine tore it open and looked at the paper within. 

"Oh, how thoughtful of you!" she exclaimed in surprise. 

It was a permit from the police made out in her name allowing herto carry a revolver. 

A moment later, Kennedy reached into his coat pocket and produceda little automatic which he handed to her. 

"Thank you, " she cried eagerly. 

Elaine examined the gun with interest, then, raising it, pointedit playfully at Bennett. 

"Oh--no--no!" exclaimed Kennedy, taking her arm quickly, andgently deflecting the weapon away. "You mustn't think it is a toy. It explodes at a mere touch of the trigger--when that safetyratchet is turned. "

Bennett had realized the danger and had jumped back, almostmechanically. As he did so, he bumped into a suit of medievalarmor standing by the wall, knocking it over with a resoundingcrash. 

"I beg pardon, " he ejaculated, "I'm very sorry. That was veryawkward of me. "

Jennings, who had been busy about the portieres at the doorway, started to pick up the fallen knight. Some of the pieces werebroken, and the three gathered about as the butler tried to fitthem together again as best he could. 

"Too bad, too bad, " apologized Bennett profusely. "I really forgothow close I was to the thing. "

"Oh, never mind, " returned Elaine, a little crestfallen, "It issmashed all right--but it was my fault. Jennings, send for someoneto repair it. "

She turned to Kennedy. "But I do wish you would teach me how touse this thing, " she added, touching the automatic gingerly. 

"Gladly, " he returned. 

"Won't you join us, Mr. Bennett?" asked Elaine. 

"No, " the young lawyer smiled, "I'm afraid I can't. You see, I hadan engagement with another client and I'm already late. "

He took his hat and coat and, with a reluctant farewell, movedtoward the hallway. 

A moment later Elaine and Craig followed, while Jennings finishedrestoring the armor as nearly as possible as it had been. 

 . . . . . . . . 

It was late that night that a masked figure succeeded in raisingitself to the narrow ornamental ledge under Elaine's bedroomwindow. 

Elaine was a light sleeper and, besides, Rusty, her faithfulcollie, now fully recovered from the poison, was in her room. 

Rusty growled and the sudden noise wakened her. 

Startled, Elaine instantly thought of the automatic. She reachedunder her pillow, keeping very quiet, and drew forth the gun thatCraig had given her. Stealthily concealing her actions under thecovers, she levelled the automatic at the figure silhouetted inher window and fired three times. 

The figure fell back. 

Down in the street, below, the assistant of the Clutching Hand whohad waited while Taylor Dodge was electrocuted, was waiting now ashis confederate, "Pitts Slim"--which indicated that he was bothwiry in stature and libellous in delegating his nativity--made theattempt. 

As Slim came tumbling down, having fallen back from the windowabove, mortally wounded, the confederate lifted him up and carriedhim out of sight hurriedly. 

Elaine, by this time, had turned on the lights and had run to thewindow to look out. Rusty was barking loudly. 

In a side street, nearby, stood a waiting automobile, at the wheelof which sat another of the emissaries of the Clutching Hand. Thedriver looked up, startled, as he saw his fellow hurry around thecorner carrying the wounded Pitts Slim. It was the work of just amoment to drop the wounded man, as comfortably as possible underthe circumstances, in the rear seat, while his pals started thecar off with a jerk in the hurry of escape. 

Jennings, having hastily slipped his trousers on over his pajamascame running down the hall, while Marie, frightened, came in theother direction. Aunt Josephine appeared a few seconds later, adding to the general excitement. 

"What's the matter?" she asked, anxiously. 

"A burglar, I think, " exclaimed Elaine, still holding the gun inher hand. "Someone tried to get into my window. "

"My gracious, " cried Aunt Josephine, in alarm, "where will thisthing end?"

Elaine was doing her best now to quiet the fears of her aunt andthe rest of the household. 

"Well, " she laughed, a little nervously, now that it was all over, "I want you all to go to bed and stop worrying about me. Don't yousee, I'm perfectly able to take care of myself? Besides, thereisn't a chance, now, of the burglar coming back. Why, I shot him. "

"Yes, " put in Aunt Josephine, "but--"

Elaine laughingly interrupted her and playfully made as though shewere driving them out of her room, although they were all verymuch concerned over the affair. However, they went finally, andshe locked the door. 

"Rusty!" she called, "Down there!"

The intelligent collie seemed to understand. He lay down by thedoorway, his nose close to the bottom of the door and his earsalert. 

Finally Elaine, too, retired again. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Meanwhile the wounded man was being hurried to one of the hangoutsof the mysterious Clutching Hand, an old-fashioned house in theWestchester suburbs. It was a carefully hidden place, back fromthe main road, surrounded by trees, with a driveway leading up toit. 

The car containing the wounded Pitts Slim drew up and the othertwo men leaped out of it. With a hurried glance about, theyunlocked the front door with a pass-key and entered, carrying theman. 

Indoors was another emissary of the Clutching Hand, a ratherstudious looking chap. 

"Why, what's the matter?" he exclaimed, as the crooks entered hisroom, supporting their half-fainting, wounded pal. 

"Slim got a couple of pills, " they panted, as they laid him on acouch. 

"How?" demanded the other. 

"Trying to get into the Dodge house. Elaine did it. "

Slim was, quite evidently, badly wounded and was bleedingprofusely. A glance at him was enough for the studious-lookingchap. He went to a secret panel and, pressing it down, took outwhat was apparently a house telephone. 

In another part of this mysterious house was the secret room ofthe Clutching Hand himself where he hid his identity from even hismost trusted followers. It was a small room, lined with books onevery conceivable branch of science that might aid him andcontaining innumerable little odds and ends of paraphernalia thatmight help in his nefarious criminal career. 

His telephone rang and he took down the receiver. 

"Pitts Slim's been wounded--badly--Chief, " was all he waited tohear. 

With scarcely a word, he hung up the receiver, then opened a tabledrawer and took out his masking handkerchief. Next he went to anearby bookcase, pressed another secret spring, and a panelopened. He passed through, the handkerchief adjusted. 

Across, in the larger, outside study, another panel opened and theClutching Hand, all crouched up, transformed, appeared. Without aword he advanced to the couch on which the wounded crook lay andexamined him. 

"How did it happen?" he asked at length. 

"Miss Dodge shot him, " answered the others, "with an automatic. "

"That Craig Kennedy must have given it to her!" he exclaimed withsuppressed fury. 

For a moment the Clutching Hand stopped to consider. Then heseized the regular telephone. 

"Dr. Morton?" he asked as he got the number he called. 

Late as it was the doctor, who was a well-known surgeon in thatpart of the country, answered, apparently from an extension of histelephone near his bed. 

The call was urgent and apparently from a family which he did notfeel that he could neglect. 

"Yes, I'll be there--in a few moments, " he yawned, hanging up thereceiver and getting out of bed. 

Dr. Morton was a middle-aged man, one of those medical men inwhose judgment one instinctively relies. From the briefdescription of the "hemorrhage" which the Clutching Hand hadcleverly made over the wire, he knew that a life was at stake. Quickly he dressed and went out to his garage, back of the houseto get his little runabout. 

It was only a matter of minutes before the doctor was speedingover the now deserted suburban roads, apparently on his errand ofmercy. 

At the address that had been given him, he drew up to the side ofthe road, got out and ran up the steps to the door. A ring at thebell brought a sleepy man to the door, in his trousers andnightshirt. 

"How's the patient?" asked Dr. Morton, eagerly. 

"Patient?" repeated the man, rubbing his eyes. "There's no onesick here. "

"Then what did you telephone for?" asked the doctor peevishly, "Telephone? I didn't call up anyone, I was asleep. "

Slowly it dawned on the doctor that it was a false alarm and thathe must be the victim of some practical joke. 

"Well, that's a great note, " he growled, as the man shut the door. 

He descended the steps, muttering harsh language at some unknowntrickster. As he climbed back into his machine and made ready tostart, two men seemed to rise before him, as if from nowhere. 

As a matter of fact, they had been sent there by the ClutchingHand and were hiding in a nearby cellar way until their chancecame. 

One man stood on the running board, on either side of him, and twoguns yawned menacingly at him. 

"Drive ahead--that way!" muttered one man, seating himself in therunabout with his gun close to the doctor's ribs. 

The other kept his place on the running board, and on they drovein the direction of the mysterious, dark house. Half a mile, perhaps, down the road, they halted and left the car beside thewalk. 

Dr. Morton was too surprised to marvel at anything now and herealized that he was in the power of two desperate men. Quickly, they blindfolded him. 

It seemed an interminable walk, as they led him about to confusehim, but at last he could feel that they had taken him into ahouse and along passageways, which they were making unnecessarilylong in order to destroy all recollection that they could. Finallyhe knew that he was in a room in which others were present. Hesuppressed a shudder at the low, menacing voices. 

A moment later he felt them remove the bandage from his eyes, and, blinking at the light, he could see a hard-faced fellow, pale andweak, on a blood-stained couch. Over him bent a masked man andanother man stood nearby, endeavoring by improvised bandages tostop the flow of blood. 

"What can you do for this fellow?" asked the masked man. 

Dr. Morton, seeing nothing else to do, for he was more thanoutnumbered now, bent down and examined him. 

As he rose, he said, "He will be dead from loss of blood bymorning, no matter if he is properly bandaged. "

"Is there nothing that can save him?" whispered the Clutching Handhoarsely. 

"Blood transfusion might save him, " replied the Doctor. "But somuch blood would be needed that whoever gives it would be liableto die himself. "

Clutching Hand stood silent a moment, thinking, as he gazed at theman who had been one of his chief reliances. Then, with a menacinggesture, he spoke in a low, bitter tone. 

"SHE WHO SHOT HIM SHALL SUPPLY THE BLOOD. "

 . . . . . . . . 

A few quick directions followed to his subordinates, and as hemade ready to go, he muttered, "Keep the doctor here. Don't lethim stir from the room. "

Then, with the man who had aided him in the murder of TaylorDodge, he sallied out into the blackness that precedes dawn. 

It was just before early daybreak when the Clutching Hand and hisconfederate reached the Dodge House in the city and came up to theback door, over the fences. As they stood there, the ClutchingHand produced a master key and started to open the door. Butbefore he did so, he took out his watch. 

"Let me see, " he ruminated. "Twenty minutes past four. At exactlyhalf past, I want you to do as I told you--see?"

The other crook nodded. 

"You may go, " ordered the Clutching Hand. 

As the crook slunk away, Clutching Hand stealthily let himselfinto the house. Noiselessly he prowled through the halls until hecame to Elaine's doorway. 

He gave a hasty look up and down the hall. There was no sound. Quickly he took a syringe from his pocket and bent down by thedoor. Inserting the end under it, he squirted some liquid throughwhich vaporized rapidly in a wide, fine stream of spray. Before hecould give an alarm, Rusty was overcome by the noxious fumes, rolled over on his back and lay still. 

Outside, the other crook was waiting, looking at his watch. As thehand slowly turned the half hour, he snapped the watch shut. Witha quick glance up and down the deserted street, he deftly startedup the rain pipe that passed near Elaine's window. 

This time there was no faithful Rusty to give warning and thesecond intruder, after a glance at Elaine, still sleeping, wentquickly to the door, dragged the insensible dog out of the way, turned the key and admitted the Clutching Hand. As he did so heclosed the door. 

Evidently the fumes had not reached Elaine, or if they had, theinrush of fresh air revived her, for she waked and quickly reachedfor the gun. In an instant the other crook had leaped at her. Holding his hand over her mouth to prevent her screaming hesnatched the revolver away before she could fire it. 

In the meantime the Clutching Hand had taken out some chloroformand, rolling a towel in the form of a cone, placed it over herface. She struggled, gasping and gagging, but the struggles grewweaker and weaker and finally ceased altogether. 

When Elaine was completely under the influence of the drug, theylifted her out of bed, the chloroform cone still over her face, and quietly carried her to the door which they opened stealthily. 

Downstairs they carried her until they came to the library withits new safe and there they placed her on a couch. 

 . . . . . . . . 

At an early hour an express wagon stopped before the Dodge houseand Jennings, half dressed, answered the bell. 

"We've come for that broken suit of armor to be repaired, " said aworkman. 

Jennings let the men in. The armor was still on the stand and therepairers took armor, stand, and all, laying it on the couch wherethey wrapped it in the covers they had brought for the purpose. They lifted it up and started to carry it out. 

"Be careful, " cautioned the thrifty Jennings. 

Rusty, now recovered, was barking and sniffing at the armor. 

"Kick the mutt off, " growled one man. 

The other did so and Rusty snarled and snapped at him. Jenningstook him by the collar and held him as the repairers went out, loaded the armor on the wagon, and drove off. 

Scarcely had they gone, while Jennings straightened out thedisarranged library, when Rusty began jumping about, barkingfuriously. Jennings looked at him in amazement, as the dog ran tothe window and leaped out. 

He had no time to look after the dog, though, for at that veryinstant he heard a voice calling, "Jennings! Jennings!"

It was Marie, almost speechless. He followed her as she led theway to Miss Elaine's room. There Marie pointed mutely at the bed. 

Elaine was not there. 

There, too, were her clothes, neatly folded, as Marie had hungthem for her. 

"Something must have happened to her!" wailed Marie. 

Jennings was now thoroughly alarmed. 

Meanwhile the express wagon outside was driving off, with Rustytearing after it. 

"What's the matter?" cried Aunt Josephine coming in where thefootman and the maid were arguing what was to be done. 

She gave one look at the bed, the clothes, and the servants. 

"Call Mr. Kennedy!" she cried in alarm. 

 . . . . . . . . 

"Elaine is gone--no one knows how or where, " announced Craig as heleaped out of bed that morning to answer the furious ringing ofour telephone bell. 

It was very early, but Craig dressed hurriedly and I followed asbest I could, for he had the start of me, tieless and collarless. 

When we arrived at the Dodge house, Aunt Josephine and Marie werefully dressed. Jennings let us in. 

"What has happened?" demanded Kennedy breathlessly. 

While Aunt Josephine tried to tell him, Craig was busy examiningthe room. 

"Let us see the library, " he said at length. 

Accordingly down to the library we went. Kennedy looked about. Heseemed to miss something. 

"Where is the armor?" he demanded. 

"Why, the men came for it and took it away to repair, " answeredJennings. 

Kennedy's brow clouded in deep thought. 

Outside we had left our taxi, waiting. The door was open and a newfootman, James, was sweeping the rug, when past him flashed adishevelled hairy streak. 

We were all standing there still as Craig questioned Jenningsabout the armor. With a yelp Rusty tore frantically into the room. A moment he stopped and barked. We all looked at him in surprise. Then, as no one moved, he seemed to single out Kennedy. He seizedCraig's coat in his teeth and tried to drag him out. 

"Here, Rusty--down, sir, down!" called Jennings. 

"No, Jennings, no, " interposed Craig. "What's the matter, oldfellow?"

Craig patted Rusty whose big brown eyes seemed mutely appealing. Out of the doorway he went, barking still. Craig and I followedwhile the rest stood in the vestibule. 

Rusty was trying to lead Kennedy down the street!

"Wait here, " called Kennedy to Aunt Josephine, as he stepped withme on the running board of the cab. "Go on, Rusty, good dog!"

Rusty needed no urging. With an eager yelp he started off, stillbarking, ahead of us, our car following. On we went, much to theastonishment of those who were on the street at such an earlyhour. 

It seemed miles that we went, but at last we came to a peculiarlydeserted looking house. Here Rusty turned in and began scratchingat the door. We jumped off the cab and followed. 

The door was locked when we tried and from inside we could get noanswer. We put our shoulders to it and burst it in. Rusty gave aleap forward with a joyous bark. 

We followed, more cautiously. There were pieces of armor strewnall over the floor. Rusty sniffed at them and looked about, disappointed, then howled. 

I looked from the armor to Kennedy, in blank amazement. 

"Elaine was kidnapped--in the armor, " he cried. 

 . . . . . . . . 

He was right. Meanwhile, the armor repairers had stopped at lastat this apparently deserted house, a strange sort of repair shop. Still keeping it wrapped in blankets, they had taken the armor outof the wagon and now laid it down on an old broken bed. Then theyhad unwrapped it and taken off the helmet. 

There was Elaine!

She had been stupefied, bound and gagged. Piece after piece of thearmor they removed, finding her still only half conscious. 

"Sh! What's that?" cautioned one of the men. They paused andlistened. Sure enough, there was a sound outside. They opened thewindow cautiously. A dog was scratching on the door, endeavoringto get in. It was Rusty. 

"I think it's her dog, " said the man, turning. "We'd better lethim in. Someone might see him. "

The other nodded and a moment later the door opened and in ranRusty. Straight to Elaine he went, starting to lick her hand. 

"Right--her dog, " exclaimed the other man, drawing a gun andhastily levelling it at Rusty. 

"Don't!" cautioned the first. "It would make too much noise. You'dbetter choke him!"

The fellow grabbed for Rusty. Rusty was too quick. He jumped. Around the room they ran. Rusty saw the wide open window--and hischance. Out he went and disappeared, leaving the man cussing athim. 

A moment's argument followed, then they wrapped Elaine in theblankets alone, still bound and gagged, and carried her out. 

 . . . . . . . . 

In the secret den, the Clutching Hand was waiting, gazing now andthen at his watch, and then at the wounded man before him. In achair his first assistant sat, watching Dr. Morton. 

A knock at the door caused them to turn their heads. The crookopened it and in walked the other crooks who had carried offElaine in the suit of armor. 

Elaine was now almost conscious, as they sat her down in a chairand partly loosed her bonds and the gag. She gazed about, frightened. 

"Oh--help! help!" she screamed as she caught sight of the nowfamiliar mask of the Clutching Hand. 

"Call all you want--here, young lady, " he laughed unnaturally. "Noone can hear. These walls are soundproof!"

Elaine shrank back. 

"Now, doc. , " he added harshly to Dr. Morton. "It was she who shothim. Her blood must save him. "

Dr. Morton recoiled at the thought of torturing the beautifulyoung girl before him. 

"Are--you willing--to have your blood transfused?" he parleyed. 

"No--no--no!" she cried in horror, Dr. Morton turned to the desperate criminal. "I cannot do it. "

"The deuce you can't!" A cold steel revolver pressed down on Dr. Morton's stomach. In the other hand the master crook held hiswatch. 

"You have just one minute to make up your mind. "

Dr. Morton shrank back. The revolver followed. The pressure of afly's foot meant eternity for him. 

"I--I'll try!"

The other crooks next carried Elaine, struggling, and threw herdown beside the wounded man. Together they arranged another couchbeside him. 

Dr. Morton, still covered by the gun, bent over the two, thehardened criminal and the delicate, beautiful girl. Clutching Handglared fiendishly, insanely. 

From his bag he took a little piece of something that shone likesilver. It was in the form of a minute, hollow cylinder, with twogrooves on it, a cylinder so tiny that it would scarcely haveslipped over the point of a pencil. 

"A cannulla, " he explained, as he prepared to make an incision inElaine's arm and in the arm of the wounded rogue. 

He cuffed it over the severed end of the artery, so cleverly thatthe inner linings of the vein and artery, the endothelium as it iscalled, were in complete contact with each other. 

Clutching Hand watched eagerly, as though he had found some new, scientific engine of death in the little hollow cylinder. 

A moment and the blood that was, perhaps, to save the life of thewounded felon was coursing into his veins from Elaine. 

A moment later, Dr. Morton looked up at the Clutching Hand andnodded, "Well, it's working!"

At Elaine's head, Clutching Hand himself was administering justenough ether to keep her under and prevent a struggle that wouldwreck all. The wounded man had not been anesthetized and seemedfeebly conscious of what was being done to save him. 

All were now bending over the two. 

Dr. Morton bent closest over Elaine. He looked at her anxiously, felt her pulse, watched her breathing, then pursed up his lips. 

"This is--dangerous, " he ventured, gazing askance at the grimClutching Hand. 

"Can't help it, " came back laconically and relentlessly. 

The doctor shuddered. 

The man was a veritable vampire!

 . . . . . . . . 

Outside the deserted house, Kennedy and I were looking helplesslyabout. 

Suddenly Kennedy dashed back and reappeared a minute later with acouple of pieces of armor. He held them down to Rusty and the dogsniffed at them. 

But Rusty stood still. 

Kennedy pointed to the ground. 

Nothing doing. In leading us where he had been before, Rusty hadreached the end of his canine ability. 

Everything we could do to make Rusty understand that we wanted himto follow a trail was unavailing. He simply could not do it. Kennedy coaxed and scolded. Rusty merely sat up on his hind legsand begged with those irresistible brown eyes. 

"You can't make a bloodhound out of a collie, " despaired Craig, looking about again helplessly. 

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a police whistle. He blew three sharp blasts. 

Would it bring help?

 . . . . . . . . 

While we were thus despairing, the continued absence of Dr. Mortonfrom home had alarmed his family and had set in motion anothertrain of events. 

When he did not return, and could not be located at the place towhich he was supposed to have gone, several policemen had beensummoned to his house, and they had come, finally, with realbloodhounds from a suburban station. 

There were the tracks of his car. That the police themselves couldfollow, while two men came along holding in leash the pack, leaders of which were "Searchlight" and "Bob. "

It had not been long before the party came across the desertedrunabout beside the road. There they had stopped, for a moment. 

It was just then that they heard Kennedy's call, and one of themhad been detailed to answer it. 

"Well, what do YOU want?" asked the officer, eyeing Kennedysuspiciously as he stood there with the armor. "What's them piecesof tin--hey?"

Kennedy quickly flashed his own special badge. "I want to trail agirl, " he exclaimed hurriedly. "Can I find a bloodhound abouthere?"

"A hound? Why, we have a pack--over there. "

"Bring them--quick!" ordered Craig. 

The policeman, who was an intelligent fellow, saw at once that, asKennedy said, the two trails probably crossed. He shouted and in afew seconds the others, with the pack, came. 

A brief parley resulted in our joining forces. 

Kennedy held the armor down to the dogs. "Searchlight" gave a lowwhine, then, followed by "Bob" and the others, was off, all withnoses close to the ground. We followed. 

The armor was, after all, the missing link. 

Through woods and fields the dogs led us. 

Would we be in time to rescue Elaine?

 . . . . . . . . 

In the mysterious haunt of the Clutching Hand, all were stillstanding around Elaine and the wounded Pitts Slim. 

Just then a cry from one of the group startled the rest. One ofthem, less hardened than the Clutching Hand, had turned away fromthe sight, had gone to the window, and had been attracted bysomething outside. 

"Look!" he cried. 

From the absolute stillness of death, there was now wildexcitement among the crooks. 

"Police! Police!" they shouted to each other as they fled by adoorway to a secret passage. 

Clutching Hand turned to his first assistant. 

"You--go--too, " he ordered. 

 . . . . . . . . 

The dogs had led us to a strange looking house, and were nowbaying and leaping up against the door. We did not stop to knock, but began to break through, for inside we could hear faintlysounds of excitement and cries of "Police--police!"

The door yielded and we rushed into a long hallway. Up the passagewe went until we came to another door. 

An instant and we were all against it. It was stout, but it shookbefore us. The panels began to yield. 

 . . . . . . . . 

On the other side of that door from us, the master crook stood fora moment. Dr. Morton hesitated, not knowing quite what to do. 

Just then the wounded Pitts Slim lifted his hand feebly. He seemedvaguely to understand that the game was up. He touched theClutching Hand. 

"You did your best, Chief, " he murmured thickly. "Beat it, if youcan. I'm a goner, anyway. "

Clutching Hand hesitated by the wounded crook. This was theloyalty of gangland, worthy a better cause. He could not bringhimself to desert his pal. He was undecided, still. 

But there was the door, bulging, and a panel bursting. 

He moved over to a panel in the wall and pushed a spring. It slidopen and he stepped through. Then it closed--not a second toosoon. 

Back in his private room, he quickly stepped to a curtained irondoor. Pushing back the curtains, he went through it anddisappeared, the curtains falling back. 

At the end of the passageway, he stopped, in a sort of grotto orcave. As he came out, he looked back. All was still. No one wasabout. He was safe here, at least!

Off came the mask and he turned down the road a few rods distantbeyond some bushes, as little concerned about the wild happeningsas any other passer-by might have been. 

 . . . . . . . . 

At the very moment when we burst in, Dr. Morton, seeing hischance, stopped the blood transfusion, working frantically to stopthe flow of blood. 

Kennedy sprang to Elaine's side, horrified by the blood that hadspattered over everything. 

With a mighty effort he checked a blow that he had aimed at Dr. Morton, as it flashed over him that the surgeon, now free again, was doing his best to save the terribly imperilled life of Elaine. 

Just then the police burst through the secret panel and rushed on, leaving us alone, with the unconscious, scarcely breathing Elaine. From the sounds we could tell that they had come to the privateroom of the Clutching Hand. It was empty and they were non-plussed. 

"Not a window!" called one. 

"What are those curtains?"

They pulled them back, disclosing an iron door. They tried it butit was bolted on the other side. Blows had no effect. They had togive it up for the instant. 

A policeman now stood beside Elaine and the wounded burglar whowas muttering deliriously to himself. 

He was pretty far gone, as the policeman knelt down and tried toget a statement out of him. 

"Who was that man who left you--last--the Clutching Hand?"

Not a word came from the crook. 

The policeman repeated his question. 

With his last strength, he looked disdainfully at the officer'spad and pencil. "The gangster never squeals, " he snarled, as hefell back. 

Dr. Morton had paid no attention whatever to him, but was workingdesperately now over Elaine, trying to bring her oack to life. 

"Is she--going to--die?" gasped Craig, frantically. 

Every eye was riveted on Dr. Morton. 

"She is all right, " he muttered. "But the man is going to die. "

At the sound of Craig's voice Elaine had feebly opened her eyes. 

"Thank heaven, " breathed Craig, with a sigh of relief, as his handgently stroked Elaine's unnaturally cold forehead. 

CHAPTER VII

THE DOUBLE TRAP

Mindful of the sage advice that a time of peace is best employedin preparing for war, I was busily engaged in cleaning myautomatic gun one morning as Kennedy and I were seated in ourliving room. 

Our door buzzer sounded and Kennedy, always alert, jumped up, pushing aside a great pile of papers which had accumulated in theDodge case. 

Two steps took him to the wall where the day before he hadinstalled a peculiar box about four by six inches long connectedin some way with a lens-like box of similar size above our belland speaking tube in the hallway below. He opened it, disclosingan oblong plate of ground glass. 

"I thought the seismograph arrangement was not quite enough afterthat spring-gun affair, " he remarked, "so I have put in a sort ofteleview of my own invention--so that I can see down into thevestibule downstairs. Well--just look who's here!"

"Some new fandangled periscope arrangement, I suppose?" I queriedmoving slowly over toward it. 

However, one look was enough to interest me. I can express it onlyin slang. There, framed in the little thing, was a vision of asswell a "chicken" as I have ever seen. 

I whistled under my breath. 

"Um!" I exclaimed shamelessly, "A peach! Who's your friend?"

I had never said a truer word than in my description of her, though I did not know it at the time. She was indeed known as"Gertie the Peach" in the select circle to which she belonged. 

Gertie was very attractive, though frightfully over-dressed. But, then, no one thinks anything of that now, in New York. 

Kennedy had opened the lower door and our fair visitor was comingupstairs. Meanwhile he was deeply in thought before the"teleview. " He made up his mind quickly, however. 

"Go in there, Walter, " he said, seizing me quickly and pushing meinto my room. "I want you to wait there and watch her carefully. "

I slipped the gun into my pocket and went, just as a knock at thedoor told me she was outside. 

Kennedy opened the door, disclosing a very excited young woman. 

"Oh, Professor Kennedy, " she cried, all in one breath, with muchemotion, "I'm so glad I found you in. I can't tell you. Oh--myjewels! They have been stolen--and my husband must not know of it. Help me to recover them--please!"

She had not paused, but had gone on in a wild, volubleexplanation. 

"Just a moment, my dear young lady, " interrupted Craig, finding atlast a chance to get a word in edgewise. "Do you see that table--and all those papers? Really, I can't take your case. I am toobusy as it is even to take the cases of many of my own clients. "

"But, please, Professor Kennedy--please!" she begged. "Help me. Itmeans--oh, I can't tell you how much it means to me!"

She had come close to him and had laid her warm, little soft handon his, in ardent entreaty. 

From my hiding place in my room, I could not help seeing that shewas using every charm of her sex and personality to lure him on, as she clung confidingly to him. Craig was very much embarrassed, and I could not help a smile at his discomfiture. Seriously, Ishould have hated to have been in his position. 

Gertie had thrown her arms about Kennedy, as if in wildestdevotion. I wondered what Elaine would have thought, if she had apicture of that!

"Oh, " she begged him, "please--please, help me!"

Still Kennedy seemed utterly unaffected by her passionate embrace. Carefully he loosened her fingers from about his neck and removedthe plump, enticing arms. 

Gertie sank into a chair, weeping, while Kennedy stood before hera moment in deep abstraction. 

Finally he seemed to make up his mind to something. His mannertoward her changed. He took a step to her side. 

"I WILL help you, " he said, laying his hand on her shoulder. "Ifit is possible I will recover your jewels. Where do you live?"

"At Hazlehurst, " she replied, gratefully. "Oh, Mr. Kennedy, howcan I ever thank you?"

She seemed overcome with gratitude and took his hand, pressed it, even kissed it. 

"Just a minute, " he added, carefully extricating his hand. "I'llbe ready in just a minute. "

Kennedy entered the room where I was listening. 

"What's it all about, Craig?" I whispered, mystified. 

For a moment he stood thinking, apparently reconsidering what hehad just done. Then his second thought seemed to approve it. 

"This is a trap of the Clutching Hand, Walter, " he whispered, adding tensely, "and we're going to walk right into it. "

I looked at him in amazement. 

"But, Craig, " I demurred, "that's foolhardy. Have her trailed--anything--but---"

He shook his head and with a mere motion of his hand brushed asidemy objections as he went to a cabinet across the room. 

From one shelf he took out a small metal box and from another atest tube, placing the test tube in his waistcoat pocket, and thesmall box in his coatpocket, with excessive care. 

Then he turned and motioned to me to follow him out into the otherroom. I did so, stuffing my "gatt" into my pocket. 

"Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Jameson, " said Craig, presentingme to the pretty crook. 

The introduction quickly over, we three went out to get Craig'scar which he kept at a nearby garage. 

 . . . . . . . . 

That forenoon, Perry Bennett was reading up a case. In the outeroffice Milton Schofield, his office boy, was industriously chewinggum and admiring his feet cocked up on the desk before him. 

The door to the waiting room opened and an attractive woman ofperhaps thirty, dressed in extreme mourning, entered with a boy. 

Milton cast a glance of scorn at the "little dude. " He was inreality about fourteen years old but was dressed to look muchyounger. 

Milton took his feet down in deference to the lady, but snickeredopenly at the boy. A fight seemed imminent. 

"Did you wish to see Mr. Bennett?" asked the precocious Miltonpolitely on one hand while on the other he made a wry grimace. 

"Yes--here is my card, " replied the woman. 

It was deeply bordered in black. Even Milton was startled atreading it: "Mrs. Taylor Dodge. "

He looked at the woman in open-mouthed astonishment. Even he knewthat Elaine's mother had been dead for years. 

The woman, however, true to her name in the artistic coterie inwhich she was leader, had sunk into a chair and was sobbingconvulsively, as only "Weepy Mary" could. 

It was so effective that even Milton was visibly moved. He tookthe card in, excitedly, to Bennett. 

"There's a woman outside--says she is Mrs. Dodge!" he cried. 

If Milton had had an X-ray eye he could have seen her take acigarette from her handbag and light it nonchalantly the moment hewas gone. 

As for Bennett, Milton, who was watching him closely, thought hewas about to discharge him on the spot for bothering him. He tookthe card, and his face expressed the most extreme surprise, thenanger. He thought a moment. 

"Tell that woman to state her business in writing, " he thunderedcurtly at Milton. 

As the boy turned to go back to the waiting room, Weepy Mary, hearing him coming, hastily shoved the cigarette into her "son's"hand. 

"Mr. Bennett says for you to write out what it is you want to seehim about, " reported Milton, indicating the table before which shewas sitting. 

Mary had automatically taken up sobbing, with the release of thecigarette. She looked at the table on which were letter paper, pens and ink. 

"I may write here?" she asked. 

"Surely, ma'am, " replied Milton, still very much overwhelmed byher sorrow. 

Weepy Mary sat there, writing and sobbing. 

In the midst of his sympathy, however, Milton sniffed. There wasan unmistakable odor of tobacco smoke about the room. He lookedsharply at the "son" and discovered the still smoking cigarette. 

It was too much for Milton's outraged dignity. Bennett did notallow him that coveted privilege. This upstart could not usurp it. 

He reached over and seized the boy by the arm and swung him aroundtill he faced a sign in the corner on the wall. 

"See?" he demanded. 

The sign read courteously:

 "No Smoking in This Office--Please. "PERRY BENNETT. "

"Leggo my arm, " snarled the "son, " putting the offending cigarettedefiantly into his mouth. 

Milton coolly and deliberately reached over and, with anexaggerated politeness swiftly and effectively removed it, dropping it on the floor and stamping defiantly on it. 

"Son" raised his fists pugnaciously, for he didn't care much forthe role he was playing, anyhow. 

Milton did the same. 

There was every element of a gaudy mix-up, when the outer door ofthe office suddenly swung open and Elaine Dodge entered. 

Gallantry was Milton's middle name and he sprang forward to holdthe door, and then opened Bennett's door, as he ushered in Elaine. 

As she passed "Weepy Mary, " who was still writing at the table andcrying bitterly, Elaine hesitated and looked at her curiously. Even after Milton had opened Bennett's door, she could not resistanother glance. Instinctively Elaine seemed to scent trouble. 

Bennett was still studying the black-bordered card, when shegreeted him. 

"Who is that woman?" she asked, still wondering about the identityof the Niobe outside. 

At first he said nothing. But finally, seeing that she had noticedit, he handed Elaine the card, reluctantly. 

Elaine read it with a gasp. The look of surprise that crossed herface was terrible. 

Before she could say anything, however, Milton had returned withthe sheet of paper on which "Weepy Mary" had written and handed itto Bennett. 

Bennett read it with uncontrolled astonishment. 

"What is it?" demanded Elaine. 

He handed it to her and she read:

"As the lawful wife and widow of Taylor Dodge, I demand my son'srights and my own. 

"MRS. TAYLOR DODGE. "

Elaine gasped at it. 

"She--my father's wife!" she exclaimed, "What effrontery! Whatdoes she mean?"

Bennett hesitated. 

"Tell me, " Elaine cried, "Is there--can there be anything in it?No--no--there isn't!"

Bennett spoke in a low tone. "I have heard a whisper of somescandal or other connected with your father--but--" He paused. 

Elaine was first shocked, then indignant. 

"Why--such a thing is absurd. Show the woman in!"

"No--please--Miss Dodge. Let me deal with her. "

By this time Elaine was furious. 

"Yes--I WILL see her. "

She pressed the button on Bennett's desk and Milton responded. 

"Milton, show the--the woman in, " she ordered, "and that boy, too. "

As Milton turned to crook his finger at "Weepy Mary, " she noddedsurreptitiously and dug her fingers sharply into "son's" ribs. 

"Yell--you little fool, --yell, " she whispered. 

Obedient to his "mother's" commands, and much to Milton's disgust, the boy started to cry in close imitation of his elder. 

Elaine was still holding the paper in her hands when they entered. 

"What does all this mean?" she demanded. 

"Weepy Mary, " between sobs, managed to blurt out, "You are MissElaine Dodge, aren't you? Well, it means that your father marriedme when I was only seventeen and this boy is his son--your halfbrother. "

"No--never, " cried Elaine vehemently, unable to restrain herdisgust. "He never married again. He was too devoted to the memoryof my mother. "

"Weepy Mary" smiled cynically. "Come with me and I will show youthe church records and the minister who married us. "

"You will?" repeated Elaine defiantly. "Well, I'll just do as youask. Mr. Bennett shall go with me. "

"No, no, Miss Dodge--don't go. Leave the matter to me, " urgedBennett. "I will take care of HER. Besides, I must be in court intwenty minutes. "

Elaine paused, but she was thoroughly aroused. 

"Then I will go with her myself, " she cried defiantly. 

In spite of every objection that Bennett made, "Weepy Mary, " herson, and Elaine went out to call a taxicab to take them to therailroad station where they could catch a train to the little townwhere the woman asserted she had been married. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Meanwhile, before a little country church in the town, a closedautomobile had drawn up. 

As the door opened, a figure, humped up and masked, alighted. 

It was the Clutching Hand. 

The car had scarcely pulled away, when he gave a long rap, followed by two short taps, at the door of the vestry, a secretcode, evidently. 

Inside the vestry room a well-dressed man but with a very sinisterface heard the knock and a second later opened the door. 

"What--not ready yet?" growled the Clutching Hand. "Quick--now--get on those clothes. I heard the train whistle as I came in thecar. In which closet does the minister keep them?"

The crook, without a word, went to a closet and took out a suit ofclothes of ministerial cut. Then he hastily put them on, addingsome side-whiskers, which he had brought with him. 

At about the same time, Elaine, acompanied by "Weepy Mary" and her"son, " had arrived at the little tumble-down station and had takenthe only vehicle in sight, a very ancient carriage. 

It ambled along until, at last, it pulled up before the vestryroom door of the church, just as the bogus minister was finishinghis transformation from a frank crook. Clutching Hand was givinghim final instructions. 

Elaine and the others alighted and approached the church, whilethe ancient vehicle rattled away. 

"They're coming, " whispered the crook, peering cautiously out ofthe window. 

Clutching Hand moved silently and snake-like into the closet andshut the door. 

"How do you do, Dr. Carton?" greeted "Weepy Mary. " "I guess youdon't remember me. "

The clerical gentleman looked at her fixedly a moment. 

"Remember you?" he repeated. "Of course, my dear. I remembereveryone I marry. "

"And you remember to whom you married me?"

"Perfectly. To an older man--a Taylor Dodge. "

Elaine was overcome. 

"Won't you step in?" he asked suavely. "Your friend here doesn'tseem well. "

They all entered. 

"And you--you say--you married this--this woman to Taylor Dodge?"queried Elaine, tensely. 

The bogus minister seemed to be very fatherly. "Yes, " he assented, "I certainly did so. "

"Have you the record?" asked Elaine, fighting to the last. 

"Why, yes. I can show you the record. "

He moved over to the closet. "Come over here, " he asked. 

He opened the door. Elaine screamed and drew back. There stood herarch enemy, the Clutching Hand himself. 

As he stepped forth, she turned, wildly, to run--anywhere. Butstrong arms seized her and forced her into a chair. 

She looked at the woman and the minister. It was a plot!

A moment Clutching Hand looked Elaine over. "Put the others out, "he ordered the other crook. 

Quickly the man obeyed, leading "Weepy Mary" and her "son" to thedoor, and waving them away as he locked it. They left, quite asmuch in the dark about the master criminal's identity as Elaine. 

"Now, my pretty dear, " began the Clutching Hand as the lock turnedin the vestry door, "we shall be joined shortly by your friend, Craig Kennedy, and, " he added with a leer, "I think your ratherinsistent search for a certain person will cease. "

Elaine drew back in the chair, horrified, at the implied threat. 

Clutching Hand laughed, diabolically. 

 . . . . . . . . 

While these astounding events were transpiring in the littlechurch, Kennedy and I had been tearing across the country in hisbig car, following the directions of our fair friend. 

We stopped at last before a prosperous, attractive-looking houseand entered a very prettily furnished but small parlor. Heavyportieres hung over the doorway into the hall, over another into aback room and over the bay windows. 

"Won't you sit down a moment?" coaxed Gertie. "I'm quite blown topieces after that ride. My, how you drive!"

As she pulled aside the hall portieres, three men with guns thrusttheir hands out. I turned. Two others had stepped from the backroom and two more from the bay window. We were surrounded. Sevenguns were aimed at us with deadly precision. 

"No--no--Walter--it's no use, " shouted Kennedy calmly restrainingmy hand which I had clapped on my own gun. 

At the same time, with his other hand, he took from his pocket thesmall can which I had seen him place there, and held it aloft. 

"Gentlemen, " he said quietly. "I suspected some such thing. I havehere a small box of fulminate of mercury. If I drop it, thisbuilding and the entire vicinity will be blown to atoms. Go ahead--shoot!" he added, nonchalantly. 

The seven of them drew back, rather hurriedly. 

Kennedy was a dangerous prisoner. 

He calmly sat down in an arm chair, leaning back as he carefullybalanced the deadly little box of fulminate of mercury on hisknee. He placed his finger tips together and smiled at the sevencrooks, who had gathered together, staring breathlessly at thisman who toyed with death. 

Gertie ran from the room. 

For a moment they looked at each other, undecided, then one byone, they stepped away from Kennedy toward the door. 

The leader was the last to go. He had scarcely taken a step. 

"Stop!" ordered Kennedy. 

The crook did so. As Craig moved toward him, he waited, cold sweatbreaking out on his face. 

"Say, " he whined, "you let me be!"

It was ineffectual. Kennedy, still smiling confidently, camecloser, still holding the deadly little box, balanced between twofingers. 

He took the crook's gun and dropped it into his pocket. 

"Sit down!" ordered Craig. 

Outside, the other six parleyed in hoarse whispers. One raised agun, but the woman and the others restrained him and fled. 

"Take me to your master!" demanded Kennedy. 

The crook remained silent. 

"Where is he?" repeated Craig. "Tell me!"

Still the man remained silent. Craig looked the fellow over again. Then, still with that confident smile, he reached into his insidepocket and drew forth the tube I had seen him place there. 

"No matter how much YOU accuse me, " added Craig casually, "no onewill ever take the word of a crook that a reputable scientist likeme would do what I am about to do. "

He had taken out his penknife and opened it. Then he beckoned tome. 

"Bare his arm and hold his wrist, Walter, " he said. 

Craig bent down with the knife and the tube, then paused a momentand turned the tube so that we could see it. 

On the label were the ominous words:

Germ culture 6248A Bacillus Leprae (Leprosy)

Calmly he took the knife and proceeded to make an incision in theman's arm. The crook's feelings underwent a terrific struggle. 

"No--no--no--don't, " he implored. "I will take you to theClutching Hand--even if it kills me!"

Kennedy stepped back, replacing the tube in his pocket. 

"Very well, go ahead!" he agreed. 

We followed the crook, Craig still holding the deadly box offulminate of mercury carefully balanced so that if anyone shot himfrom a hiding place it would drop. 

 . . . . . . . . 

No sooner had we gone than Gertie hurried to the nearest telephoneto inform the Clutching Hand of our escape. 

Elaine had sunk back into the chair, as the telephone rang. Clutching Hand answered it. 

A moment later, in uncontrollable fury he hurled the instrument tothe floor. 

"Here--we've got to act quickly--that devil has escaped again, " hehissed. "We must get her away. You keep her here. I'll be back--right away--with a car. "

He dashed madly from the church, pulling off his mask as he gainedthe street. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Kennedy had forced the crook ahead of us into the car which waswaiting and I followed, taking the wheel this time. 

"Which way, now--quick!" demanded Craig, "And if you get me inwrong--I've got that tube yet--you remember. "

Our crook started off with a whole burst of directions thatrivalled the motor guide--"through the town, following trolleytracks, jog right, jog left under the R. R. Bridge, leavingtrolley tracks; at cemetery turn left, stopping at the old stonechurch. "

"Is this it?" asked Craig incredulously. 

"Yes--as I live, " swore the crook in a cowed voice. 

He had gone to pieces. Kennedy jumped from the machine. 

"Here, take this gun, Walter, " he said to me. "Don't take youreyes off the fellow--keep him covered. "

Craig walked around the church, out of sight, until he came to asmall vestry window and looked in. 

There was Elaine, sitting in a chair, and near her stood anelderly looking man in clerical garb, which to Craig's trained eyewas quite evidently a disguise. 

Elaine happened just then to glance at the window and her eyesgrew wide with astonishment at the sight of Craig. 

He made a hasty motion to her to make a dash for the door. Shenodded quietly. 

With a glance at her guardian, she suddenly made a rush. 

He was at her in a moment, pouncing on her, cat-like. 

Kennedy had seized an iron bar that lay beside the window wheresome workmen had been repairing the stone pavement, and, with ablow shattered the glass and the sash. 

At the sound of the smashing glass the crook turned and with amighty effort threw Elaine aside, drawing his revolver. As heraised it, Elaine sprang at him and frantically seized his wrist. 

Utterly merciless, the man brought the butt of the gun down withfull force on Elaine's head. Only her hat and hair saved her, butshe sank unconscious. 

Then he turned at Craig and fired twice. 

One shot grazed Craig's hat, but the other struck him in theshoulder and Kennedy reeled. 

With a desperate effort he pulled himself together and leapedforward again, closing with the fellow and wrenching the gun fromhim before he could fire again. 

It fell to the floor with a clang. 

Just then the man broke away and made a dash for the door leadingback into the church itself, with Kennedy after him. At the footof a flight of stairs, he turned long enough to pick up a chair. As Kennedy came on, he deliberately smashed it over Craig's head. 

Kennedy warded off the blow as best he could, then, stillundaunted, started up the stairs after the fellow. 

Up they went, into the choir loft and then into the belfry itself. There they came to sheer hand to hand struggle. Kennedy tripped ona loose board and would have fallen backwards, if he had not beenable to recover himself just in time. The crook, desperate, leapedfor the ladder leading further up into the steeple. Kennedyfollowed. 

Elaine had recovered consciousness almost immediately and, hearingthe commotion, stirred and started to rise and look about. 

From the church she could hear sounds of the struggle. She pausedjust long enough to seize the crook's revolver lying on the floor. 

She hurried into the church and up into the belfry, thence up theladder, whence the sounds came. 

The crook by this time had gained the outside of the steeplethrough an opening. Kennedy was in close pursuit. 

On the top of the steeple was a great gilded cross, considerablylarger than a man. As the crook clambered outside, he scaled thesteeple, using a lightning rod and some projecting points to pullhimself up, desperately. 

Kennedy followed unhesitatingly. 

There they were, struggling in deadly combat, clinging to thegilded cross. 

The first I knew of it was a horrified gasp from my own crook. Ilooked up carefully, fearing it was a stall to get me off myguard. There were Kennedy and the other crook, struggling, swayingback and forth, between life and death. 

I looked at my man. What should I do? Should I leave him and go toCraig? If I did, might he not pick us both off, from a safevantage point, by some sharp-shooting skill?

There was nothing I could do. 

Kennedy was clinging to a lightning rod on the cross. 

It broke. 

I gasped as Craig reeled back. But he managed to catch hold of therod further down and cling to it. 

The crook seemed to exult diabolically. Holding with both hands tothe cross, he let himself out to his full length and stamped onKennedy's fingers, trying every way to dislodge him. It was allKennedy could do to keep his hold. 

I cried out in agony at the sight, for he had dislodged one ofCraig's hands. The other could not hold on much longer. He wasabout to fall. 

Just then I saw a face at the little window opening out from theladder to the outside of the steeple--a woman's face, tense withhorror. 

It was Elaine!

Quickly a hand followed and in it was a revolver. 

Just as the crook was about to dislodge Kennedy's other hand, Isaw a flash and a puff of smoke and a second later, heard areport--and another--and another. 

Horrors!

The crook who had taken refuge seemed to stagger back, wildly, taking a couple of steps in the thin air. 

Kennedy regained his hold. 

With a sickening thud, the body of the crook landed on the groundaround the corner of the church from me. 

"Come--you!" I ground out, covering my own crook with the pistol, "and if you attempt a getaway, I'll kill you, too!"

He followed, trembling, unnerved. 

We bent over the man. It seemed that every bone in his body mustbe broken. He groaned, and before I could even attempt anythingfor him, he was dead. 

 . . . . . . . . 

As Kennedy let himself slowly and painfully down the lightningrod, Elaine seized him and, with all her strength, pulled him inthrough the window. 

He was quite weak now from loss of blood. 

"Are you--all right?" she gasped, as they reached the foot of theladder in the belfry. 

Craig looked down at his torn and soiled clothes. Then, in spiteof the smarting pain of his wounds, he smiled, "Yes--all right!""Thank heaven!" she murmured fervently, trying to staunch the flowof blood. 

Craig gazed at her eagerly. The great look of relief in her faceseemed to take away all the pain from his own face. In its placecame a look of wonder--and hope. 

He could not resist. 

"This time--it was you--saved me!" he cried, "Elaine!"

Involuntarily his arms sought hers--and he held her a moment, looking deep into her wonderful eyes. 

Then their faces came slowly together in their first kiss. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE HIDDEN VOICE

"Jameson--wake up!"

The strain of the Dodge case was beginning to tell on me, for itwas keeping us at work at all kinds of hours to circumvent theClutching Hand, by far the cleverest criminal with whom Kennedyhad ever had anything to do. 

I had slept later than usual that morning and, in a half doze, Iheard a voice calling me, strangely like Kennedy's and yet unlikeit. 

I leaped out of bed, still in my pajamas, and stood for a momentstaring about. Then I ran into the living room. I looked about, rubbing my eyes, startled. No one was there. 

"Hey--Jameson--wake up!"

It was spooky. 

I ran back into Craig's room. He was gone. There was no one in anyof our rooms. The surprise had now thoroughly awakened me. 

"Where--the deuce--are you?" I demanded. 

Suddenly I heard the voice again--no doubt about it, either. 

"Here I am--over on the couch!"

I scratched my head, puzzled. There was certainly no one on thatcouch. 

A laugh greeted me. Plainly, though, it came from the couch. Iwent over to it and, ridiculous as it seemed, began to throw asidethe pillows. 

There lay nothing but a little oblong oaken box, perhaps eight orten inches long and three or four inches square at the ends. Inthe face were two peculiar square holes and from the top projecteda black disc, about the size of a watch, fastened on a swingingmetal arm. In the face of the disc were several perforated holes. 

I picked up the strange looking thing in wonder and from thatmagic oak box actually came a burst of laughter. 

"Come over to the laboratory, right away, " pealed forth a merryvoice. "I've something to show you. "

"Well, " I gasped, "what do you know about that?"

Very early that morning Craig had got up, leaving me snoring. Cases never wearied him. He thrived on excitement. 

He had gone over to the laboratory and set to work in a cornerover another of those peculiar boxes, exactly like that which hehad already left in our rooms. 

In the face of each of these boxes, as I have said, were twosquare holes. The sides of these holes converged inward into thebox, in the manner of a four sided pyramid, ending at the apex ina little circle of black, perhaps half an inch across. 

Satisfied at last with his work, Craig had stood back from theweird apparatus and shouted my name. He had enjoyed my surprise tothe fullest extent, then had asked me to join him. 

Half an hour afterward I walked into the laboratory, feeling alittle sheepish over the practical joke, but none the less curiousto find out all about it. 

"What is it?" I asked indicating the apparatus. 

"A vocaphone, " he replied, still laughing, "the loud speakingtelephone, the little box that hears and talks. It talks right outin meeting, too--no transmitter to hold to the mouth, no receiverto hold to the ear. You see, this transmitter is so sensitive thatit picks up even a whisper, and the receiver is placed back ofthose two megaphone-like pyramids. "

He was standing at a table, carefully packing up one of thevocaphones and a lot of wire. 

"I believe the Clutching Hand has been shadowing the Dodge house, "he continued thoughtfully. "As long as we watch the place, too, hewill do nothing. But if we should seem, ostentatiously, not to bewatching, perhaps he may try something, and we may be able to geta clue to his identity over this vocaphone. See?"

I nodded. "We've got to run him down somehow, " I agreed. 

"Yes, " he said, taking his coat and hat. "I am going to connect upone of these things in Miss Dodge's library and arrange with thetelephone company for a clear wire so that we can listen in here, where that fellow will never suspect. "

 . . . . . . . . 

At about the same time that Craig and I sallied forth on this newmission, Elaine was arranging some flowers on a stand near thecorner of the Dodge library where the secret panel was in whichher father had hidden the papers for the possession of which theClutching Hand had murdered him. They did not disclose hisidentity, we knew, but they did give directions to at least one ofhis hang-outs and were therefore very important. 

She had moved away from the table, but, as she did so, her dresscaught in something in the woodwork. She tried to loosen it and inso doing touched the little metallic spring on which her dress hadcaught. 

Instantly, to her utter surprise, the panel moved. It slid open, disclosing a strong box. 

Elaine took it amazed, looked at it a moment, then carried it to atable and started to pry it open. 

It was one of those tin dispatch boxes which, as far as I haveever been able to determine, are chiefly valuable for allowing oneto place a lot of stuff in a receptacle which is very convenientfor a criminal. She had no trouble in opening it. 

Inside were some papers, sealed in an envelope and marked "LimpyRed Correspondence. "

"They must be the Clutching Hand papers!" she exclaimed toherself, hesitating a moment in doubt what to do. The fataldocuments seemed almost uncanny. Their very presence frightenedher. What should she do?

She seized the telephone and eagerly called Kennedy's number. 

"Hello, " answered a voice. 

"Is that you, Craig?" she asked excitedly. 

"No, this is Mr. Jameson. "

"Oh, Mr. Jameson, I've discovered the Clutching Hand papers, " shebegan, more and more excited. 

"Have you read them?" came back the voice quickly. 

"No--shall I?"

"Then don't unseal them, " cautioned the voice. "Put them backexactly as you found them and I'll tell Mr. Kennedy the moment Ican get hold of him. "

"All right, " nodded Elaine. "I'll do that. And please get him--assoon as you possibly can. "

"I will. "

"I'm going out shopping now, " she returned, suddenly. "But, tellhim I'll be back--right away. "

"Very well. "

Hanging up the receiver, Elaine dutifully replaced the papers inthe box and returned the box to its secret hiding place, pressingthe spring and sliding the panel shut. 

A few minutes later she left the house in the Dodge car. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Outside our laboratory, leaning up against a railing, Dan theDude, an emissary of the Clutching Hand, whose dress now greatlybelied his underworld "monniker, " had been shadowing us, watchingto see when we left. 

The moment we disappeared, he raised his hand carefully above hishead and made the sign of the Clutching Hand. Far down the street, in a closed car, the Clutching Hand himself, his face masked, gavean answering sign. 

A moment later he left the car, gazing about stealthily. Not asoul was in sight and he managed to make his way to the door ofour laboratory without being observed. Then he opened it with apass key which he must have obtained in some way by working thejanitor or the university officials. 

Probably he thought that the papers might be at the laboratory, for he had repeatedly failed to locate them at the Dodge house. Atany rate he was busily engaged in ransacking drawers and cabinetsin the laboratory, when the telephone suddenly rang. He did notwant to answer it, but if it kept on ringing someone outside mightcome in. 

An instant he hesitated. Then, disguising his voice as much as hecould to imitate mine, he took off the receiver. 

"Hello!" he answered. 

His face was a study in all that was dark as he realized that itwas Elaine calling. He clenched his crooked hand even moreviciously. 

"Have you read them?" he asked, curbing his impatience as sheunsuspectingly poured forth her story, supposedly to me. 

"Then don't unseal them, " he hastened to reply. "Put them back. Then there can be no question about them. You can open them beforewitnesses. "

For a moment he paused, then added, "Put them back and tell no oneof their discovery. I will tell Mr. Kennedy the moment I can gethim. "

A smile spread over his sinister face as Elaine confided in himher intention to go shopping. 

"A rather expensive expedition for you, young lady, " he mutteredto himself as he returned the receiver to the hook. 

Clutching Hand lost no further time at the laboratory. He hadthus, luckily for him, found out what he wanted. The papers werenot there after all, but at the Dodge house. 

Suppose she should really be gone on only a short shopping tripand should return to find that she had been fooled over the wire?Quickly, he went to the telephone again. 

"Hello, Dan, " he called when he got his number. 

"Miss Dodge is going shopping. I want you and the other Falsers tofollow her--delay her all you can. Use your own judgment. "

It was what had come to be known in his organization as the"Brotherhood of Falsers. " There, in the back room of a low dive, were Dan the Dude, the emissary who had been loitering about thelaboratory, a gunman, Dago Mike, a couple of women, slatterns, oneknown as Kitty the Hawk, and a boy of eight or ten, whom theycalled Billy. Before them stood large schooners of beer, while theprecocious youngster grumbled over milk. 

"All right, Chief, " shouted back Dan, their leader as he hung upthe telephone after noting carefully the hasty instructions. "We'll do it--trust us. "

The others, knowing that a job was to lighten the monotony ofexistence, gathered about him. 

They listened intently as he detailed to them the orders of theClutching Hand, hastily planning out the campaign like a divisioncommander disposing his forces in battle and assigning each hispart. 

With alacrity the Brotherhood went their separate ways. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Elaine had not been gone long from the house when Craig and Iarrived there. She had followed the telephone instructions of theClutching Hand and had told no one. 

"Too bad, " greeted Jennings, "but Miss Elaine has just goneshopping and I don't know when she'll be back. "

Shopping being an uncertain element as far as time was concerned, Kennedy asked if anyone else was at home. 

"Mrs. Dodge is in the library reading, sir, " replied Jennings, taking it for granted that we would see her. 

Aunt Josephine greeted us cordially and Craig set down thevocaphone package he was carrying. 

She nodded to Jennings to leave us and he withdrew. 

"I'm not going to let anything happen here to Miss Elaine again ifI can help it, " remarked Craig in a low tone, a moment later, gazing about the library. 

"What are you thinking of doing?" asked Aunt Josephine keenly. 

"I'm going to put in a vocaphone, " he returned unwrapping it. 

"What's that?" she asked. 

"A loud speaking telephone--connected with my laboratory, " heexplained, repeating what he had already told me, while shelistened almost awe-struck at the latest scientific wonder. 

He was looking about, trying to figure out just where it could beplaced to best advantage, when he approached the suit of armor. 

"I see you have brought it back and had it repaired, " he remarkedto Aunt Josephine. Suddenly his face lighted up. "Ah--an idea!" heexclaimed. "No one will ever think to look INSIDE that. "

It was indeed an inspiration. Kennedy worked quickly now, placingthe little box inside the breast plate of the ancient armourerwith the top of the instrument projecting right up into thehelmet. It was a strange combination--the medieval and the ultra-modern. 

"Now, Mrs. Dodge, " he said finally, as he had completed installingthe thing and hiding the wire under carpets and rugs until it ranout to the connection which he made with the telephone, "don'tbreathe a word of it--to anyone. We don't know who to trust orsuspect. "

"I shall not, " she answered, by this time thoroughly educated inthe value of silence. 

Kennedy looked at his watch. 

"I've got an engagement with the telephone company, now, " he saidrather briskly, although I knew that if Elaine had been there thecompany and everything could have gone hang for the present. "Sorry not to have seen Miss Elaine, " he added as we bowedourselves out, "but I think we've got her protected now. "

"I hope so, " sighed her aunt. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Elaine's car had stopped finally at a shop on Fifth Avenue. Shestepped out and entered, leaving her chauffeur to wait. 

As she did so, Dan and Billy sidled along the crowded sidewalk. 

"There she is, Billy, " pointed out Dan as Elaine disappearedthrough the swinging doors of the shop. "Now, you wait righthere, " he instructed stealthily, "and when she comes out--you knowwhat to do. Only, be careful. "

Dan the Dude left Billy, and Billy surreptitiously drew from underhis coat a dirty half loaf of bread. With a glance about, hedropped it into the gutter close to the entrance to Elaine's car. Then he withdrew a little distance. 

When Elaine came out and approached her car, Billy, looking ascold and forlorn as could be, shot forward. Pretending to spy thedirty piece of bread in the gutter, he made a dive for it, just asElaine was about to step into the car. 

Elaine, surprised, drew back. Billy picked up the piece of breadand, with all the actions of having discovered a treasure, beganto gnaw at it voraciously. 

Shocked at the disgusting sight, she tried to take the bread awayfrom him. 

"I know it's dirty, Miss, " whimpered Billy, "but it's the firstfood I've seen for four days. "

Instantly Elaine was full of sympathy. She had taken the foodaway. That would not suffice. 

"What's your name, little boy?" she asked. 

"Billy, " he replied, blubbering. 

"Where do you live?"

"With me mother and father--they're sick--nothing to eat--"

He was whimpering an address far over on the East Side. 

"Get into the car, " Elaine directed. 

"Gee--but this is swell, " he cried, with no fake, this time. 

On they went, through the tenement canyons, dodging children andpushcarts, stopping first at a grocer's, then at a butcher's and adelicatessen. Finally the car stopped where Billy directed. Billyhobbled out, followed by Elaine and her chauffeur, his arms piledhigh with provisions. She was indeed a lovely Lady Bountiful as acrowd of kids quickly surrounded the car. 

In the meantime Dago Mike and Kitty the Hawk had gone to awretched flat, before which Billy stopped. Kitty sat on the bed, putting dark circles under her eyes with a blackened cork. She wasvery thin and emaciated, but it was dissipation that had done it. Dago Mike was correspondingly poorly dressed. 

He had paused beside the window to look out. "She's coming, " heannounced finally. 

Kitty hastily jumped into the rickety bed, while Mike took up acrutch that was standing idly in a corner. She coughed resignedlyand he limped about, forlorn. They had assumed their parts whichwere almost to the burlesque of poverty, when the door was pushedopen and Billy burst in followed by Elaine and the chauffeur. 

"Oh, ma--oh, pa, " he cried running forward and kissing his pseudo-parents, as Elaine, overcome with sympathy, directed the chauffeurto lay the things on a shaky table. 

"God bless you, lady, for a benevolent angel!" muttered the pair, to which Elaine responded by moving over to the wretched bed andbending down to stroke the forehead of the sick woman. 

Billy and Mike exchanged a sly wink. 

Just then the door opened again. All were genuinely surprised thistime, for a prim, spick and span, middle-aged woman entered. 

"I am Miss Statistix, of the organized charities, " she announced, looking around sharply. "I saw your car standing outside, Miss, and the children below told me you were up here. I came up to seewhether you were aiding really DESERVING poor. "

She laid a marked emphasis on the word, pursing up her lips. Therewas no mistaking the apprehension that these fine birds of preyhad of her, either. 

Miss Statistix took a step forward, looking in a very superiormanner from Elaine to the packages of food and then at these prizemembers of the Brotherhood. She snorted contemptuously. 

"Why--wh-what's the matter?" asked Elaine, fidgetinguncomfortably, as if she were herself guilty, in the icyatmosphere that now seemed to envelope all things. 

"This man is a gunman, that woman is a bad woman, the boy is Billythe Bread-Snatcher, " she answered precisely, drawing out a card onwhich to record something, "and you, Miss, are a fool!"

"Ya!" snarled the two precious falsers, "get out o' here!"

There was no combating Miss Statistix. She overwhelmed allarguments by the very exactness of her personality. 

"YOU get out!" she countered. 

Kitty and Mike, accompanied by Billy, sneaked out. Elaine, nowvery much embarrassed, looked about, wondering at the rapid-firechange. Miss Statistix smiled pityingly. 

"Such innocence!" she murmured sadly shaking her head as she leadElaine to the door. "Don't you know better than to try to helpanybody without INVESTIGATING?"

Elaine departed, speechless, properly squelched, followed by herchauffeur. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Meanwhile, a closed car, such as had stood across from thelaboratory, had drawn up not far from the Dodge house. Near it wasa man in rather shabby clothes and a visored cap on which were thewords in dull gold lettering, "Metropolitan Window Cleaning Co. "He carried a bucket and a small extension ladder. 

In the darkened recesses of the car was the Clutching Handhimself, masked as usual. He had his watch in his hand and wasgiving most minute instructions to the window cleaner aboutsomething. As the latter turned to go, a sharp observer would havenoted that it was Dan the Dude, still further disguised. 

A few moments later, Dan appeared at the servants' entrance of theDodge house and rang the bell. Jennings, who happened to be downthere, came to the door. 

"Man to clean the windows, " saluted the bogus cleaner, touchinghis hat in a way quietly to call attention to the words on it anddrawing from his pocket a faked written order. 

"All right, " nodded Jennings examining the order and finding itapparently all right. 

Dan followed him in, taking the ladder and bucket upstairs, whereAunt Josephine was still reading. 

"The man to clean the windows, ma'am, " apologized Jennings. 

"Oh, very well, " she nodded, taking up her book, to go. Then, recalling the frequent injunctions of Kennedy, she paused longenough to speak quietly to Jennings. 

"Stay here and watch him, " she whispered as she went out. 

Jennings nodded, while Dan opened a window and set to work. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Elaine had scarcely started again in her car down the crowdednarrow street. From her position she could not possibly have seenJohnnie, another of the Brotherhood, watching her eagerly up thestreet. 

But as her car approached, Johnnie, with great determination, pulled himself together and ran forward across the street. She sawthat. 

"Oh!" she screamed, her heart almost stopping. 

He had fallen directly in front of the wheels of the car, apparently, and although the chauffeur stopped with a jolt, itseemed that the boy had been run over. 

They jumped out. There he was, sure enough, under the very wheels. People came running now in all directions and lifted him up, groaning piteously. He seemed literally twisted into a knot whichlooked as if every bone in his body was broken or dislocated. 

Elaine was overcome. For, following their natural instincts thecrowd began pushing in with cries of "Lynch the driver!" It wouldhave gone hard with him, too, if she had not interfered. 

"Here!" cried Elaine, stepping in. "It wasn't his fault. The boyran across the street right in front of the car. Now--we're justgoing to rush this boy to the hospital--right away!"

She lifted Johnnie gently into the car herself and they drove off, to a very vigorous blowing of the horn. 

A few moments later they pulled up before the ambulance entranceto the hospital. 

"Quick!" beckoned Elaine to the attendants, who ran out andcarried Johnnie, still a complicated knot of broken bones, inside. 

In the reception room were a couple of nurses and a young medicalstudent, when Johnnie was carried in and laid on the bed. Thestudent, more interested in Elaine than the boy, examined him. Hisface wore a puzzled look and there was every reason to believethat Johnnie was seriously injured. 

At that moment the door opened and an elderly, gray-bearded housephysician entered. The others stepped back from the bedrespectfully. He advanced and examined Johnnie. 

The doctor looked at the boy a moment, then at Elaine. 

"I will now effect a miraculous cure by the laying on of hands, "he announced, adding quickly, "--and of feet!"

To the utter surprise of all he seized the boy by the coat collar, lifting him up and actually bouncing him on the floor. Then hepicked him up, shook him and ran him out of the room, deliveringone last kick as he went through the door. By the way Johnniewent, it was quite evident that he was no more injured than thechauffeur. Elaine did not know whether to be angry or to laugh, but finally joined in the general laugh. 

"That was Double-Jointed Johnnie, " puffed the doctor, as hereturned to them, "one of the greatest accident fakers in thecity. "

Elaine, having had two unfortunate experiences during the day, nowdecided to go home and the doctor politely escorted her to hercar. 

 . . . . . . . . 

From his closed car, the Clutching Hand gazed intently at theDodge house. He could see Dan on the ladder, now washing thelibrary window, his back toward him. 

Dan turned slowly and made the sign of the hand. Turning to hischauffeur, the master criminal spoke a few words in a low tone andthe driver hurried off. 

A few minutes later the driver might have been seen entering anear-by drug store and going into the telephone booth. Without amoment's hesitation he called up the Dodge house and Marie, Elaine's maid, answered. 

"Is Jennings there?" he asked. "Tell him a friend wants to speakto him. "

"Wait a minute, " she answered. "I'll get him. "

Marie went toward the library, leaving the telephone off the hook. Dan was washing the windows, half inside, half outside the house, while Jennings was trying to be very busy, although it wasapparent that he was watching Dan closely. 

"A friend of yours wants to speak to you over the telephone, Jennings, " said Marie, as she came into the library. 

The butler responded slowly, with a covert glance at Dan. 

No sooner had they gone, however, than Dan climbed all the wayinto the room, ran to the door and looked after them. Then he ranto the window. Across and down the street, the Clutching Hand wasgazing at the house. He had seen Dan disappear and suspected thatthe time had come. 

Sure enough, there was the sign of the hand. He hastily got out ofthe car and hurried up the street. All this time the chauffeur waskeeping Jennings busy over the telephone with some trumped-upstory. 

As the master criminal came in by the ladder through the openwindow, Dan was on guard, listening down the hallway. A signalfrom Dan, and Clutching Hand slid back of the portieres. Jenningswas returning. 

"I've finished these windows, " announced Dan as the butlerreappeared. "Now, I'll clean the hall windows. "

Jennings followed like a shadow, taking the bucket. 

No sooner had they gone than Clutching Hand stealthily came frombehind the portieres. 

One of the maids was sweeping in the hall as Dan went toward thewindow, about to wash it. 

"I wonder whether I locked these windows?" muttered Jennings, pausing in the hallway. "I guess I'd better make sure. "

He had taken only a step toward the library again, when Danwatchfully caught sight of him. It would never do to have Jenningssnooping around there now. Quick action was necessary. Dan knockedover a costly Sevres vase. 

"There--clumsy--see what you've done!" berated Jennings, startingto pick up the pieces. 

Dan had acted his part well and promptly. In the library, Clutching Hand was busily engaged at that moment beside the secretpanel searching for the spring that released it. He ran his fingeralong the woodwork, pausing here and there without succeeding. 

"Confound it!" he muttered, searching feverishly. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Kennedy, having made the arrangements with the telephone companyby which he had a clear wire from the Dodge house to hislaboratory, had rejoined me there and was putting on the finishingtouches to his installation of the vocaphone. 

Every now and then he would switch it on, and we would listen inas he demonstrated the wonderful little instrument to me. He hadheard the window cleaner and Jennings, but thought nothing of itat the time. 

Once, however, Craig paused and I saw him listening more intentlythan usual. 

"They've gone out, " he muttered, "but surely there is someone inthe Dodge library. "

I listened; too. The thing was so sensitive that even a whispercould be magnified and I certainly did hear something. 

Kennedy frowned. What was that scratching noise? Could it beJennings? Perhaps it was Rusty. 

Just then we could distinguish a sound as though someone had movedabout. 

"No--that's not Jennings, " cried Craig. "He went out. "

He looked at me a moment. The same stealthy noise was repeated. 

"It's the Clutching Hand!" he exclaimed excitedly. 

 . . . . . . . . 

A moment later, Dan hurried into the Dodge library. 

"For heaven's sake, Chief, hurry!" he whispered hoarsely. "Thefalsers must have fallen down. The girl herself is coming!"

Dan himself had no time to waste. He retreated into the hallwayjust as Jennings was opening the door for Elaine. 

Marie took her wraps and left her, while Elaine handed hernumerous packages to Jennings. Dan watched every motion. 

"Put them away, Jennings, " she said softly. 

Jennings had obeyed and gone upstairs. Elaine moved toward thelibrary. Dan took a quiet step or two behind her, in the samedirection. 

In the library, Clutching Hand was now frantically searching forthe spring. He heard Elaine coming and dodged behind the curtainsagain just as she entered. 

With a hasty look about, she saw no one. Then she went quickly tothe panel, found the spring, and pressed it. So many queer thingshad happened to her since she went out that she had begun to worryover the safety of the papers. 

The panel opened. They were there, all right. She opened the boxand took them out, hesitating to break the seal before Kennedyarrived. 

Stealthy and tiger-like the Clutching Hand crept up behind her. Ashe did so, Dan gazed in through the portieres from the hall. 

With a spring, Clutching Hand leaped at Elaine, snatching at thepapers. Elaine clung to them tenaciously in spite of the surprise, and they struggled for them, Clutching Hand holding one hand overher mouth to prevent her screaming. Instantly Dan was there, aiding his chief. 

"Choke her! Strangle her! Don't let her scream!" he ground out. 

They fought viciously. Would they succeed? It was two desperate, unscrupulous men against one frail girl. 

Suddenly, from the man in armor in the corner, as if by a miraclecame a deep, loud voice. 

"Help! Help! Murder! Police! They are strangling me!"

The effect was terrific. 

Clutching Hand and Dan, hardened in crime as they were, fell back, dazed, overcome for the moment at the startling effect. 

They looked about. Not a soul. 

Then to their utter consternation, from the vizor of the helmetagain came the deep, vibrating warning. 

"Help! Murder! Police!"

 . . . . . . . . 

Kennedy and I had been listening over the vocaphone, for themoment non-plussed at the fellow's daring. 

Then we heard from the uncanny instrument, "For Heaven's sake, Chief, hurry! The falsers have fallen down. The girl herself iscoming!"

What it meant we did not know. But Craig was almost besidehimself, as he ordered me to try to get the police by telephone, if there was any way to block them. Only instant action wouldcount, however. What to do?

He could hear the master criminal plainly fumbling, now. 

"Yes, that's the Clutching Hand, " he repeated. 

"Wait, " I cautioned, "someone else is coming!"

By a sort of instinct he seemed to recognize the sounds. 

"Elaine!" he exclaimed, paling. 

Instantly followed, in less time than I can tell it, the sounds ofa suppressed scuffle. 

"He has seized her--gagged her, " I cried in an agony of suspense. 

We could now hear everything that was going on in the library. Craig was wildly excited. As for me, I was speechless. Here wasthe vocaphone we had installed. It had warned us. But what couldwe do?

I looked blankly at Kennedy. He was equal to the emergency. 

He calmly turned a switch. 

Then, at the top of his lungs, he shouted, "Help! Help! Police!They are strangling me!"

I looked at him in amazement. What did he think he could do--blocks away?

"It works both ways, " he muttered. "Help! Murder! Police!"

We could hear the astounded cursing of the two men. Also, down thehall, now, we could hear footsteps approaching in answer to hiscall for help--Aunt Josephine, Jennings, Marie, and others, allshouting out that there were cries in the library. 

"The deuce! What is it?" muttered a gruff voice. 

"The man in armor!" hissed Clutching Hand. 

"Here they come, too, Chief!"

There was a parting scuffle. 

"There--take that!"

A loud metallic ringing came from the vocaphone. 

Then, silence!

What had happened

 . . . . . . . . 

In the library, recovered from their first shock of surprise, Dancried out to the Clutching Hand, "The deuce. What is it?"

Then, looking about, Clutching Hand quickly took in the situation. 

"The man in armor!" he pointed out. 

Dan was almost dead with fright at the weird thing. 

"Here they come, too, Chief, " he gasped, as, down the hall hecould hear the family shouting out that someone was in thelibrary. 

With a parting thrust, Clutching Hand sent Elaine reeling. 

She held on to only a corner of the papers. He had the greaterpart of them. They were torn and destroyed, anyway. 

Finally, with all the venomousness of which he was capable, Clutching Hand rushed at the armor suit, drew back his glovedfist, and let it shoot out squarely in a vicious solar plexusblow. 

"There--take that!" he roared. 

The suit rattled, furiously. Out of it spilled the vocaphone witha bang on the floor. 

An instant later those in the hall rushed in. But the ClutchingHand and Dan were gone out of the window, the criminal carryingthe greater part of the precious papers. 

Some ran to Elaine, others to the window. The ladder had beenkicked away and the criminals were gone. Leaping into the waitingcar, they had been whisked away. 

"Hello! Hello! Hello!" called a voice, apparently from nowhere. 

"What is that?" cried Elaine, still blankly wondering. 

She had risen by this time and was gazing about, wondering at thestrange voice. Suddenly her eye fell on the armor scattered allover the floor. She spied the little oak box. 

"Elaine!"

Apparently the voice came from that. Besides, it had a familiarring to her ears. 

"Yes--Craig!" she cried. 

"This is my vocaphone--the little box that hears and talks, " cameback to her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes--all right, --thanks to the vocaphone. "

She had understood in an instant. She seized the helmet andbreastplate to which the vocaphone still was attached and washolding them close to herself. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Kennedy had been calling and listening intently over the machine, wondering whether it had been put out of business in some way. 

"It works--yet!" he cried excitedly to me. "Elaine!"

"Yes, Craig, " came back over the faithful little instrument. 

"Are you all right?"

"Yes--all right. "

"Thank heaven!" breathed Craig, pushing me aside. 

Literally he kissed that vocaphone as if it had been human!

CHAPTER IX

THE DEATH RAY

Kennedy was reading a scientific treatise one morning, while I wasbanging on the typewriter, when a knock at the laboratory doordisturbed us. 

By some intuition, Craig seemed to know who it was. He sprang toopen the door, and there stood Elaine Dodge and her lawyer, PerryBennett. 

Instantly, Craig read from the startled look on Elaine's face thatsomething dreadful had happened. 

"Why--what's the matter?" he asked, solicitously. 

"A--another letter--from the Clutching Hand!" she exclaimedbreathlessly. "Mr. Bennett was calling on me, when this note wasbrought in. We both thought we'd better see you at once about itand he was kind enough to drive me here right away in his car. "

Craig took the letter and we both read, with amazement:

"Are you an enemy of society? If not, order Craig Kennedy to leavethe country by nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Otherwise, apedestrian will drop dead outside his laboratory every hour untilhe leaves. "

The note was signed by the now familiar sinister hand, and had, added, a postcript, which read:

"As a token of his leaving, have him place a vase of flowers onhis laboratory window to-day. "

"What shall we do?" queried Bennett, evidently very much alarmedat the threat. 

"Do?" replied Kennedy, laughing contemptuously at the apparentlyfutile threat, "why, nothing. Just wait. "

 . . . . . . . . 

The day proved uneventful and I paid no further attention to thewarning letter. It seemed too preposterous to amount to anything. 

Kennedy, however, with his characteristic foresight, as I learnedafterwards, had not been entirely unprepared, though he hadaffected to treat the thing with contempt. 

His laboratory, I may say, was at the very edge of the Universitybuildings, with the campus back of it, but opening on the otherside on a street that was ordinarily not overcrowded. 

We got up as usual the next day and, quite early, went over to thelaboratory. Kennedy, as was his custom, plunged straightway intohis work and appeared absorbed by it, while I wrote. 

"There IS something queer going on, Walter, " he remarked. "Thisthing registers some kind of wireless rays--infra-red, I think, --something like those that they say that Italian scientist, Ulivi, claims he has discovered and called the 'F-rays. '"

"How do you know?" I asked, looking up from my work. "What's thatinstrument you are using?"

"A bolometer, invented by the late Professor Langley, " he replied, his attention riveted on it. 

Some time previously, Kennedy had had installed on the windowledge one of those mirror-like arrangements, known as a"busybody, " which show those in a room what is going on on thestreet. 

As I moved over to look at the bolometer, I happened to glanceinto the busybody and saw that a crowd was rapidly collecting onthe sidewalk. 

"Look, Craig!" I called hastily. 

He hurried over to me and looked. We could both see in thebusybody mirror a group of excited passersby bending over a manlying prostrate on the sidewalk. 

He had evidently been standing on the curbstone outside thelaboratory and had suddenly put his hand to his forehead. Then hehad literally crumpled up into a heap, as he sank to the ground. 

The excited crowd lifted him up and bore him away, and I turned insurprise to Craig. He was looking at his watch. 

It was now only a few moments past nine o'clock!

Not quarter of an hour later, our door was excitedly flung openand Elaine and Perry Bennett arrived. 

"I've just heard of the accident, " she cried, fearfully. "Isn't itterrible. What had we better do?"

For a few moments no one said a word. Then Kennedy began carefullyexamining the bolometer and some other recording instruments hehad, while the rest of us watched, fascinated. 

Somehow that "busybody" seemed to attract me. I could not resistlooking into it from time to time as Kennedy worked. 

I was scarcely able to control my excitement when, again, I sawthe same scene enacted on the sidewalk before the laboratory. Hurriedly I looked at my watch. It was ten o'clock!

"Craig!" I cried. "Another!"

Instantly he was at my side, gazing eagerly. There was a secondinnocent pedestrian lying on the sidewalk while a crowd, almostpanic-stricken, gathered about him. 

We watched, almost stunned by the suddenness of the thing, untilfinally, without a word, Kennedy turned away, his face set intense lines. 

"It's no use, " he muttered, as we gathered about him. "We'rebeaten. I can't stand this sort of thing. I will leave to-morrowfor South America. "

I thought Elaine Dodge would faint at the shock of his wordscoming so soon after the terrible occurrence outside. She lookedat him, speechless. 

It happened that Kennedy had some artificial flowers on a stand, which he had been using long before in the study of syntheticcoloring materials. Before Elaine could recover her tongue, heseized them and stuck them into a tall beaker, like a vase. Thenhe deliberately walked to the window and placed the beaker on theledge in a most prominent position. 

Elaine and Bennett, to say nothing of myself, gazed at him, awe-struck. 

"Is--is there no other way but to surrender?" she asked. 

Kennedy mournfully shook his head. 

"I'm afraid not, " he answered slowly. "There's no telling how fara fellow who has this marvellous power might go. I think I'dbetter leave to save you. He may not content himself with innocentoutsiders always. "

Nothing that any of us could say, not even the pleadings of Elaineherself could move him. The thought that at eleven o'clock a thirdinnocent passerby might lie stricken on the street seemed to movehim powerfully. 

When, at eleven, nothing happened as it had at the other twohours, he was even more confirmed in his purpose. Entreaties hadno effect, and late in the morning, he succeeded in convincing usall that his purpose was irrevocable. 

As we stood at the door, mournfully bidding our visitors farewelluntil the morrow, when he had decided to sail, I could see that hewas eager to be alone. He had been looking now and then at thepeculiar instrument which he had been studying earlier in the dayand I could see on his face a sort of subtle intentness. 

"I'm so sorry--Craig, " murmured Elaine, choking back her emotion, and finding it impossible to go on. 

"So am I, Elaine, " he answered, tensely. "But--perhaps--when thistrouble blows over--"

He paused, unable to speak, turned, and shook his head. Then witha forced gaiety he bade Elaine and Perry Bennett adieu, sayingthat perhaps a trip might do him good. 

They had scarcely gone out and Kennedy closed the door carefully, when he turned and went directly to the instrument which I hadseen him observing so interestedly. 

Plainly, I could see that it was registering something. 

"What's the matter?" I asked, non-plussed. 

"Just a moment, Walter, " he replied evasively, as if not quitesure of himself. 

He walked fairly close to the window this time, keeping well outof the direct line of it, however, and there stood gazing out intothe street. 

A glint, as if of the sun shining on a pair of opera glasses couldbe seen from a window across the way. 

"We are being watched, " he said slowly, turning and looking at mefixedly, "but I don't dare investigate lest it cost the lives ofmore unfortunates. "

He stood for a moment in deep thought. Then he pulled out asuitcase and began silently to pack it. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Although we had not dared to investigate, we knew that from abuilding, across the street, emissaries of the Clutching Hand werewatching for our signal of surrender. 

The fact was, as we found out later, that in a poorly furnishedroom, much after the fashion of that which, with the help of theauthorities, we had once raided in the suburbs, there were at thatmoment two crooks. 

One of them was the famous, or rather the infamous, ProfessorLeCroix, with whom in a disguise as a doctor we had already hadsome experience when he stole from the Hillside Sanitarium thetwilight sleep drugs. The other was the young secretary of theClutching Hand who had given the warning at the suburbanheadquarters at the time when they were endeavoring to tranfuseElaine Dodge's blood to save the life of the crook whom she hadshot. 

This was the new headquarters of the master criminal, verycarefully guarded. 

"Look!" cried LeCroix, very much elated at the effect that hadbeen produced by his infra-red rays, "There is the sign--the vaseof flowers. We have got him this time!"

LeCroix gleefully patted a peculiar instrument beside him. Apparently it was a combination of powerful electric arcs, therays of which were shot through a funnel-like arrangement into aconverter or, rather, a sort of concentration apparatus from whichthe dread power could be released through a tube-like affair atone end. It was his infra-red heat wave, F-ray, engine. 

"I told you--it would work!" cried LeCroix. 

 . . . . . . . . 

I did not argue any further with Craig about his sudden resolutionto go away. But it is a very solemn proceeding to pack up andadmit defeat after such a brilliant succession of cases as hadbeen his until we met this master criminal. 

He was unshakeable, however, and the next morning we closed thelaboratory and loaded our baggage, which was considerable, on ataxicab. 

Neither of us said much, but I saw a quick look of appreciation onCraig's face as we pulled up at the wharf and saw that the Dodgecar was already there. He seemed deeply moved that Elaine shouldcome at such an early hour to have a last word. 

Our cab stopped and Kennedy moved over toward her car, directingtwo porters, whom I noticed that he chose with care, to wait atone side. One of them was an old Irishman with a slight limp; theother a wiry Frenchman with a pointed beard. 

In spite of her pleadings, however, Kennedy held to his purposeand, as we shook hands for the last time, I thought that Elainewould almost break down. 

"Here, you fellows, now, " directed Craig, turning brusquely to theporters, "hustle that baggage right aboard. "

"Can't we go on the ship, too?" asked Elaine, appealingly. 

"I'm sorry--I'm afraid there isn't time, " apologized Craig. 

We finally tore ourselves away, followed by the porters carryingas much as they could. 

"Bon voyage!" cried Elaine, bravely keeping back a choke in hervoice. 

Near the gangplank, in the crowd, I noticed a couple of sinisterfaces watching the ship's officers and the passengers goingaboard. Kennedy's quick eye spotted them, too, but he did not showin any way that he noticed anything as, followed by our twoporters, we quickly climbed the gangplank. 

A moment Craig paused by the rail and waved to Elaine and Bennettwho returned the salute feelingly. I paused at the rail, too, speculating how we were to get the rest of our baggage aboard intime, for we had taken several minutes saying good-bye. 

"In there, " pointed Kennedy quickly to the porters, indicating ourstateroom which was an outside room. "Come, Walter. "

I followed him in with a heavy heart. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Outside could be seen the two sinister faces in the crowd watchingintently, with eyes fixed on the stateroom. Finally one of thecrooks boarded the ship hastily, while the other watched the twoporters come out of the stateroom and pause at the window, speaking back into the room as though answering commands. 

Then the porters quickly ran along the deck and down the plank, toget the rest of the luggage. As they approached the Dodge car, Elaine, Aunt Josephine and Perry Bennett were straining their eyesto catch a last glimpse of us. 

The porters took a small but very heavy box and, lugging andtugging, hastened toward the boat with it. But they were too late. The gang plank was being hauled in. 

They shouted, but the ship's officers waved them back. 

"Too late!" one of the deckhands shouted, a little pleased to seethat someone would be inconvenienced for tardiness. 

The porters argued. But it was no use. All they could do was tocarry the box back to the Dodge car. 

Miss Dodge was just getting in as they returned. 

"What shall we do with this and the other stuff?" asked the Irishporter. 

She looked at the rest of the tagged luggage and the box which wasmarked:

Scientific Instruments Valuable Handle with care. 

"Here--pile them in here, " she said indicating the taxicab. "I'lltake charge of them. "

Meanwhile one of our sinister faced friends had just had time toregain the shore after following us aboard ship and strolling pastthe window of our stateroom. He paused long enough to observe oneof the occupants studying a map, while the other was opening abag. 

"They're gone!" he said to the other as he rejoined him on thedock, giving a nod of his head and a jerk of his thumb at theship. 

"Yes, " added the other crook, "and lost most of their baggage, too. "

 . . . . . . . . 

Slowly the Dodge car proceeded through the streets up from theriver front, followed by the taxicab, until at last the Dodgemansion, was reached. 

There Elaine and Aunt Josephine got out and Bennett stood talkingwith them a moment. Finally he excused himself reluctantly for itwas now late, even for a lawyer, to get to his office. 

As he hurried over to the subway, Elaine nodded to the porters inthe taxicab, "Take that stuff in the house. We'll have to send itby the next boat. "

Then she followed Aunt Josephine while the porters unloaded theboxes and bags. 

Elaine sighed moodily as she walked slowly in. 

"Here, Marie, " she cried petulantly to her maid, "take these wrapsof mine. "

Marie ventured no remark, but, like a good servant, took them. 

A moment later Aunt Josephine left her and Elaine went into thelibrary and over to a table. She stood there an instant, then sankdown into a chair, taking up Kennedy's picture and gazing at itwith eyes filled by tears. 

Just then Jennings came into the room, ushering the two portersladen with the boxes and bags. 

"Where shall I have them put these things, Miss Elaine?" heinquired. 

"Oh--anywhere, " she answered hurriedly, replacing the picture. 

Jennings paused. As he did so, one of the porters limped forward. "I've a message for you, Miss, " he said in a rich Irish brogue, with a look at Jennings, "to be delivered in private. "

Elaine glanced at him surprised. Then she nodded to Jennings whodisappeared. As he did so, the Irishman limped to the door anddrew together the portieres. 

Then he came back closer to Elaine. 

A moment she looked at him, not quite knowing from his strangeactions whether to call for help or not. 

 . . . . . . . . 

At a motion from Kennedy, as he pulled off his wig, I pulled offthe little false beard. 

Elaine looked at us, transformed, startled. 

"Wh--what--" she stammered. "Oh--I'm--so--glad. How--"

Kennedy said nothing. He was thoroughly enjoying her face. 

"Don't you understand?" I explained, laughing merrily. "I admitthat I didn't until that last minute in the stateroom on the boatwhen we didn't come back to wave a last good-bye. But all the carethat Craig took in selecting the porters was the result of work hedid yesterday, and the insistence with which he chose ourtravelling clothes had a deep-laid purpose. "

She said nothing, and I continued. 

"The change was made quickly in the stateroom. Kennedy's man threwon the coat and hat he wore, while Craig donned the rough clothesof the porter and added a limp and a wig. The same sort ofexchange of clothes was made by me and Craig clapped a Van Dyckbeard on my chin. "

"I--I'm so glad, " she repeated. "I didn't think you'd--"

She cut the sentence short, remembering her eyes and thephotograph as we entered, and a deep blush crimsoned her face. 

"Mum's the word, " cautioned Kennedy, "You must smuggle us out ofthe house, some way. "

 . . . . . . . . 

Kennedy lost no time in confirming the suspicions of his bolometeras to the cause of the death of the two innocent victims of themachinations of the Clutching Hand. 

Both of them, he had learned, had been removed to a nearbyundertaking shop, awaiting the verdict of the coroner. We soughtout the shop and prevailed on the undertaker to let us see thebodies. 

As Kennedy pulled down the shroud from the face of the firstvictim, he disclosed on his forehead a round dark spot about thesize of a small coin. Quickly, he moved to the next coffin and, uncovering the face, disclosed a similar mark. 

"What is it?" I asked, awestruck. 

"Why, " he said, "I've heard of a certain Viennese, one LeCroix Ibelieve, who has discovered or perfected an infra-red rayinstrument which shoots its power a great distance with extremeaccuracy and leaves a mark like these. "

"Is he in New York?" I inquired anxiously. 

"Yes, I believe he is. "

Kennedy seemed indisposed to answer more until he knew more, and Isaw that he would prefer not being questioned for the present. 

We thanked the undertaker for his courtesy and went out. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Meanwhile Elaine had called up Perry Bennett. 

"Mr. Bennett, " she exclaimed over the wire, "just guess who calledon me?"

"Who?" he answered, "I give it up. "

"Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Jameson, " she called back. 

"Is that so?" he returned. "Isn't that fine? I didn't think he wasthe kind to run away like that. How did it happen?"

Elaine quickly told the story as I had told her. 

Had she known it, however, Bennett's valet, Thomas, was at thatvery moment listening at the door, intensely interested. 

As Bennett hung up the receiver, Thomas entered the room. 

"If anyone calls me, " ordered Bennett, "take the message, particularly if it is from Miss Dodge. I must get downtown--andtell her after I finish my court work for the day I shall be rightup. "

"Yes sir, " nodded the valet with a covert glance at his master. 

Then, as Bennett left, he followed him to the door, paused, thought a moment, then, as though coming to a sudden decision, went out by an opposite door. 

It was not long afterward that a knock sounded at the door of thenew headquarters of the Clutching Hand. LeCroix and the secretarywere there, as well as a couple of others. 

"The Chief!" exclaimed one. 

The secretary opened the door, and, sure enough, the ClutchingHand entered. 

"Well, how did your infra-red rays work?" he asked LeCroix. 

"Fine. "

"And they're gone?"

"Yes. The flowers were in the window yesterday. Two of our men sawthem on the boat. "

There came another knock. This time, as the door opened, it wasThomas, Bennett's faithless valet, who entered. 

"Say, " blurted out the informer, "do you know Kennedy and Jamesonare back?"

"Back?" cried the crooks. 

"Yes, --they didn't go. Changed clothes with the porters. I justheard Miss Dodge telling Mr. Bennett. "

Clutching Hand eyed him keenly, then seemed to burst into anungovernable fury. 

Quickly he began volleying orders at the valet and the others. Then, with the secretary and two of the other crooks he left byanother door from that by which he had sent the valet forth. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Leaving the undertaker's, Kennedy and I made our way, keeping offthoroughfares, to police headquarters, where, after makingourselves known, Craig made arrangements for a raid on the houseacross the street from the laboratory where we had seen the operaglass reflection. 

Then, as secretly as we had come, we went out again, lettingourselves into the laboratory, stealthily looking up and down thestreet. We entered by a basement door, which Kennedy carefullylocked again. 

No sooner had we disappeared than one of the Clutching Hand'sspies who had been watching behind a barrel of rubbish gave thesignal of the hand down the street to a confederate and, going tothe door, entered by means of a skeleton key. 

We entered our laboratory which Kennedy had closed the day before. With shades drawn, it now looked deserted enough. 

I dropped into a chair and lighted a cigarette with a sigh ofrelief, for really I had thought, until the boat sailed, thatKennedy actually contemplated going away. 

Kennedy went over to a cabinet and, from it, took out a notebookand a small box. Opening the notebook on the laboratory table, herapidly turned the pages. 

"Here, Walter, " he remarked. "This will answer your questionsabout the mysterious deadly ray. "

I moved over to the table, eager to satisfy my curiosity and readthe notes which he indicated with his finger. 

INFRA-RED RAY NOTES

The infra-red ray which has been developed by LeCroix from theexperiments of the Italian scientist Ulivi causes, whenconcentrated by an apparatus perfected by LeCroix, aninstantaneous combustion of nonreflecting surfaces. It isparticularly deadly in its effect on the brain centers. 

It can be diverted, it is said however, by a shield composed ofplatinum backed by asbestos. 

Next Kennedy opened the case which he had taken out of the cabinetand from it he took out the platinum-asbestos mirror, which wassomething of his own invention. He held it up and in pantomimeshowed me just how it would cut off the deadly rays. 

He had not finished even that, when a peculiar noise in thelaboratory itself disturbed him and he hastily thrust the asbestosplatinum shield into his pocket. 

Though we had not realized it, our return had been anticipated. 

Suddenly, from a closet projected a magazine gun and before wecould move, the Clutching Hand himself slowly appeared, behind us. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed with mock politeness, "so, you thought you'dfool me, did you? Well!"

Just then, two other crooks, who had let themselves in by theskeleton key through the basement jumped into the room throughthat door covering us. 

We started to our feet, but in an instant found ourselves bothsprawling on the floor. 

In the cabinet, beneath the laboratory table, another crook hadbeen hidden and he tackled us with all the skill of an oldfootball player against whom we had no defence. 

Four of them were upon us instantly. 

 . . . . . . . . 

At the same time, Thomas, the faithless valet of Bennett, had beendispatched by the Clutching Hand to commandeer his master'sroadster in his absence, and, carrying out the instructions, hehad driven up before Elaine's house at the very moment when shewas going out for a walk. 

Thomas jumped out of the car and touched his hat deferentially. 

"A message from Mr. Bennett, ma'am, " he explained. "Mr. Kennedyand Mr. Bennett have sent me to ask you to come over to thelaboratory. "

Unsuspecting, Elaine stepped into the car and drove off. 

Instead, however, of turning and pulling up on the laboratory sideof the street, Thomas stopped opposite it. He got out and Elaine, thinking that perhaps it was to save time that he had not turnedthe car around, followed. 

But when the valet, instead of crossing the street, went up to adoor of a house and rang the bell, she began to suspect that allwas not as it should be. 

"What are you going here for, Thomas?" she asked. "There's thelaboratory--over there. "

"But, Miss Dodge, " he apologized, "Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Bennett arehere. They told me they'd be here. "

The door was opened quickly by a lookout of the Clutching Hand andthe valet asked if Craig and Elaine's lawyer were in. Of coursethe lookout replied that they were and, before Elaine knew it, shewas jostled into the dark hallway and the door was banged shut. 

Resistance was useless now and she was hurried along until anotherdoor was opened. 

There she saw LeCroix and the other crooks. 

And, as the door slammed, she caught sight of the fearsomeClutching Hand himself. 

She drew back, but was too frightened even to scream. 

With a harsh, cruel laugh, the super-criminal beckoned to her tofollow him and look down through a small trap door. 

Unable now to resist, she looked. 

There she saw us. To that extent the valet had told the truth. Kennedy was standing in deep thought, while I sat on an old box, smoking a cigarette--very miserable. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Was this to be the sole outcome of Kennedy's clever ruse, I waswondering. Were we only to be shipwrecked in sight of port?

Watching his chance, when the street was deserted, the ClutchingHand and his followers had hustled us over to the new hangoutacross from the laboratory. There they had met more crooks and hadthrust us into this vile hole. As the various ineffectual schemesfor escape surged through my head, I happened to look up andcaught a glance of horror on Craig's face. I followed his eyes. There, above us, was Elaine!

I saw her look from us to the Clutching Hand in terror. But noneof us uttered a word. 

"I will now show you, my dear young lady, " almost hissed theClutching Hand at length, "as pretty a game of hide and seek asyou have ever seen. "

As he said it, another trap door near the infra-red ray machinewas opened and a beam of light burst through. I knew it was notthat which we had to fear, but the invisible rays that accompaniedit, the rays that had affected the bolometer. 

Just then a spot of light showed near my foot, moving about thecement floor until it fell on my shoe. Instantly, the leathercharred, even before I could move. 

Kennedy and I leaped to our feet and drew back. The beam followedus. We retreated further. Still it followed, inexorably. 

Clutching Hand was now holding Elaine near the door where shecould not help seeing, laughing diabolically while he directedLeCroix and the rest to work the infra-red ray apparatus throughthe trap. 

As we dodged from corner to corner, endeavoring to keep the redray from touching us, the crooks seemed in no hurry, but rather toenjoy prolonging the torture as does a cat with a mouse. 

"Please--oh, please--stop!" begged Elaine. 

Clutching Hand only laughed with fiendish delight and urged hismen on. 

The thing was getting closer and closer. 

Suddenly we heard a strange voice ring out above us. 

"Police!"

"Where?" growled the Clutching Hand in fury. 

"Outside--a raid! Run! He's told them!"

Already we could hear the hammers and axes of the police whomKennedy had called upon before, as they battered at the outsidedoor. 

At that door a moment before, the lookout suddenly had given astartled stare and a suppressed cry. Glancing down the street hehad seen a police patrol in which were a score or more of thestrongarm squad. They had jumped out, some carrying sledgehammers, others axes. 

Almost before he could cry out and retreat to give a warning, theyhad reached the door and the first resounding blows had beenstruck. 

The lookout quickly had fled and drawn the bolts of a strong innerdoor, and the police began battering that impediment. 

Instantly, Clutching Hand turned to LeCroix at the F-ray machine. 

"Finish them!" he shouted. 

We were now backed up against a small ell in the wall of thecellar. It was barely large enough to hold us, but by crowding wewere able to keep out of the reach of the ray. The ray shot pastthe ell and struck a wall a couple of inches from us. 

I looked. The cement began to crumble under the intense heat. 

Meanwhile, the police were having great difficulty with thesteelbolt-studded door into the room. Still, it was yielding abit. 

"Hurry!" shouted Clutching Hand to LeCroix. 

Kennedy had voluntarily placed himself in front of me in the ell. Carefully, to avoid the ray, he took the asbestos-platinum shieldfrom his pocket and slid it forward as best he could over the wallto the spot where the ray struck. 

It deflected the ray. 

But so powerful was it that even that part of the ray which wasdeflected could be seen to strike the ceiling in the corner whichwas of wood. Instantly, before Kennedy could even move the shield, the wood burst into flames. 

Above us now smoke was pouring into the room where the deflectedray struck the floor and flames broke out. 

"Confound him!" ground out Clutching Hand, as they saw it. 

The other crooks backed away and stood, hesitating, not knowingquite what to do. 

The police had by this time finished battering in the door and hadrushed into the outer passage. 

While the flames leaped up, the crooks closed the last door intothe room. 

"Run!" shouted Clutching Hand, as they opened a secret gatedisclosing a spiral flight of iron steps. 

A moment later all had disappeared except Clutching Hand himself. The last door would hold only a few seconds, but Clutching Handwas waiting to take advantage of even that. With a last franticeffort he sought to direct the terrific ray at us. Elaine actedinstantly. With all her strength she rushed forward, overturningthe machine. 

Clutching Hand uttered a growl and slowly raised his gun, takingaim with the butt for a well-directed blow at her head. 

Just then the door yielded and a policeman stuck his head andshoulders through. His revolver rang out and Clutching Hand'sautomatic flew out of his grasp, giving him just enough time tododge through and slam the secret door in the faces of the squadas they rushed in. 

Back of the house, Clutching Hand and the other crooks were nowpassing through a bricked passage. The fire had got so far beyondcontrol by this time that it drove the police back from theirefforts to open the secret door. Thus the Clutching Hand had madegood his escape through the passage which led out, as we laterdiscovered, to the railroad tracks along the river. 

"Down there--Mr. Kennedy--and Mr. Jameson, " cried Elaine, pointingat the trap which was hidden in the stifle. 

The fire had gained terrific headway, but the police seized aladder and stuck it down into the basement. 

Choking and sputtering, half suffocated, we staggered up. 

"Are you hurt?" asked Elaine anxiously, taking Craig's arm. 

"Not a bit--thanks to you!" he replied, forgetting all in meetingthe eager questioning of her wonderful eyes. 

CHAPTER X

THE LIFE CURRENT

Assignments were being given out on the Star one afternoon, and Iwas standing talking with several other reporter in the busy humof typewriters and clicking telegraphs. 

"What do you think of that?" asked one of the fellows. "You'resomething of a scientific detective, aren't you?"

Without laying claim to such a distinction, I took the paper andread:

THE POISONED KISS AGAIN

Three More New York Women Report Being Kissed by MysteriousStranger--Later Fell into Deep Unconsciousness. What Is It?

I had scarcely finished, when one of the copy boys, dashing pastme, called, "You're wanted on the wire, Mr. Jameson. "

I hurried over to the telephone and answered. 

A musical voice responded to my hurried hello, and I hastened toadopt my most polite tone. 

"Is this Mr. Jameson?" asked the voice. 

"Yes, " I replied, not recognizing it. 

"Well, Mr. Jameson, I've heard of you on the Star and I've justhad a very strange experience. I've had the poisoned kiss. "

The woman did not pause to catch my exclamation of astonishment, but went on, "It was like this. A man ran up to me on the streetand kissed me--and--I don't know how it was--but I becameunconscious--and I didn't come to for an hour--in a hospital--fortunately. I don't know what would have happened if it hadn'tbeen that someone came to my assistance and the man fled. Ithought the Star would be interested. "

"We are, " I hastened to reply. "Will you give me your name?"

"Why, I am Mrs. Florence Leigh of number 20 Prospect Avenue, "returned the voice. "Really, Mr. Jameson, something ought to bedone about these cases. "

"It surely had, " I assented, with much interest, writing her nameeagerly down on a card. "I'll be out to interview you, directly. "

The woman thanked me and I hung up the receiver. 

"Say, " I exclaimed, hurrying over to the editor's desk, "here'sanother woman on the wire who says she has received the poisonedkiss. 

"Suppose you take that assignment, " the editor answered, sensing apossible story. 

I took it with alacrity, figuring out the quickest way by elevatedand surface car to reach the address. 

The conductor of the trolley indicated Prospect Avenue and Ihurried up the street until I came to the house, a neat, unpretentious place. Looking at the address on the card first tomake sure, I rang the bell. 

I must say that I could scarcely criticize the poisoned kisser'staste, for the woman who had opened the door certainly wasextraordinarily attractive. 

"And you really were--put out by a kiss?" I queried, as she led meinto a neat sitting room. 

"Absolutely--as much as if it had been by one of these poisonedneedles you read about, " she replied confidently, hastening on todescribe the affair volubly. 

It was beyond me. 

"May I use your telephone?" I asked. 

"Surely, " she answered. 

I called the laboratory. "Is that you, Craig?" I inquired. 

"Yes, Walter, " he answered, recognizing my voice. 

"Say, Craig, " I asked breathlessly, "what sort of kiss wouldsuffocate a person. "

My only answer was an uproarious laugh from him at the idea. 

"I know, " I persisted, "but I've got the assignment from the Star--and I'm out here interviewing a woman about it. It's all right tolaugh--but here I am. I've found a case--names, dates and places. I wish you'd explain the thing, then. "

"Oh, all right, Walter, " he replied indulgently. "I'll meet you assoon as I can and help you out. "

I hung up the receiver with an air of satisfaction. At least now Iwould get an explanation of the woman's queer story. 

"I'll clear this thing up, " I said confidently. "My friend, CraigKennedy, the scientific detective is coming out here. "

"Good! That fellow who attacked me ought to be shown up. All womenmay not be as fortunate as I. "

We waited patiently. Her story certainly was remarkable. Sheremembered every detail up to a certain point--and then, as shesaid, all was blankness. 

The bell rang and the woman hastened to the door admittingKennedy. 

"Hello, Walter, " he greeted. 

"This is certainly a most remarkable case, Craig, " I said, introducing him, and telling briefly what I had learned. 

"And you actually mean to say that a kiss had the effect--" Justthen the telephone interrupted. 

"Yes, " she reasserted quickly. "Excuse me a second. "

She answered the call. "Oh--why--yes, he's here. Do you want tospeak to him? Mr. Jameson, it's the Star. "

"Confound it!" I exclaimed, "isn't that like the old man--draggingme off this story before it's half finished in order to getanother. I'll have to go. I'll get this story from you, Craig. "

 . . . . . . . . 

The day before, in the suburban house, the Clutching Hand had beentalking to two of his emissaries, an attractive young woman and aman. 

They were Flirty Florrie and Dan the Dude. 

"Now, I want you to get Kennedy, " he said. "The way to do it is toseparate Kennedy and Elaine--see?"

"All right, Chief, we'll do it, " they replied. 

"I've rigged it so that you'll reach him through Jameson, understand?"

They nodded eagerly as he told them the subtle plan. 

Clutching Hand had scarcely left when Flirty Florrie began bygetting published in the papers the story which I had seen. 

The next day she called me up from the suburban house. Having gotme to promise to see her, she had scarcely turned from thetelephone when Dan the Dude walked in from the next room. 

"He's coming, " she said. 

Dan was carrying a huge stag head with a beautifully branched pairof antlers. Under his arm was a coil of wire which he hadconnected to the inside of the head. 

"Fine!" he exclaimed. Then, pointing to the head, he added, "It'sall ready. See how I fixed it? That ought to please the Chief. "

Dan moved quickly to the mantle and mounted a stepladder there bywhich he had taken down the head, and started to replace the headabove the mantle. 

He hooked the head on a nail. 

"There, " he said, unscrewing one of the beautiful brown glass eyesof the stag. 

Back of it could be seen a camera shutter. Dan worked the shutterseveral times to see whether it was all right. 

"One of those new quick shutter cameras, " he explained. 

Then he ran a couple of wires along the moulding, around the roomand into a closet, where he made the connection with a sort ofswitchboard on which a button was marked, "SHUTTER" and theswitch, "WIND FILM. "

"Now, Flirty, " he said, coming out of the closet and pulling upthe shade which let a flood of sunlight into the room, "you see, Iwant you to stand here--then, do your little trick. Get me?"

"I get you Steve, " she laughed. 

Just then the bell rang. 

"That must be Jameson, " she cried. "Now--get to your corner. "

With a last look Dan went into the closet and shut the door. 

Perhaps half an hour later, Clutching Hand himself called me up onthe telephone. It was he--not the Star--as I learned only toolate. 

 . . . . . . . . 

I had scarcely got out of the house, as Craig told me afterwards, when Flirty Florrie told all over again the embroidered tale thathad caught my ear. 

Kennedy said nothing, but listened intently, perhaps betraying inhis face the scepticism he felt. 

"You see, " she said, still voluble and eager to convince him, "Iwas only walking on the street. Here, --let me show you. It wasjust like this. "

She took his arm and before he knew it, led him to the spot on thefloor near the window which Dan had indicated. Meanwhile Dan waslistening attentively in his closet. 

"Now--stand there. You are just as I was--only I didn't expectanything. "

She was pantomiming someone approaching stealthily while Kennedywatched her with interest, tinged with doubt. Behind Craig, in hiscloset, Dan was reaching for the switchboard button. 

"You see, " she said advancing quickly and acting her words, "heplaced his hands on my shoulders--so--then threw his arms about myneck--so. "

She said no more, but imprinted a deep, passionate kiss onKennedy's mouth, clinging closely to him. Before Kennedy coulddraw away, Dan, in the closet, had pressed the button and theswitch several times in rapid succession. 

"Th-that's very realistic, " gasped Craig, a good deal taken abackby the sudden osculatory assault. 

He frowned. 

"I--I'll look into the case, " he said, backing away. "There may besome scientific explanation--but--er--"

He was plainly embarrassed and hastened to make his adieux. 

Kennedy had no more than shut the door before Dan, with a gleefullaugh, burst out of the closet and flung his own arms aboutFlorrie in an embrace that might have been poisoned, it is true, but was none the less real for that. 

 . . . . . . . . 

How little impression the thing made on Kennedy can be easily seenfrom the fact that on the way downtown that afternoon he stoppedat Martin's, on Fifth Avenue, and bought a ring--a very handsomesolitaire, the finest Martin had in the shop. 

It must have been about the time that he decided to stop atMartin's that the Dodge butler, Jennings, admitted a young ladywho presented a card on which was engraved the name

Miss FLORENCE LEIGH 20 Prospect Avenue. 

As he handed Elaine the card, she looked up from the book she wasreading and took it. 

"I don't know her, " she said puckering her pretty brow. "Do you?What does she look like?"

"I never saw her before, Miss Elaine, " Jennings shrugged. "But sheis very well dressed. "

"All right, show her in, Jennings. I'll see her. "

Elaine moved into the drawing room, Jennings springing forward topart the portieres for her and passing through the room quicklywhere Flirty Florrie sat waiting. Flirty Florrie rose and stoodgazing at Elaine, apparently very much embarrassed, even afterJennings had gone. 

There was a short pause. The woman was the first to speak. 

"It IS embarrassing, " she said finally, "but, Miss Dodge, I havecome to you to beg for my love. "

Elaine looked at her non-plussed. 

"Yes, " she continued, "you do not know it, but Craig Kennedy isinfatuated with you. " She paused again, then added, "But he isengaged to me. "

Elaine stared at the woman. She was dazed. She could not believeit. 

"There is the ring, " Flirty Florrie added indicating a veryimpressive paste diamond. 

Elaine frowned but said nothing. Her head was in a whirl. Shecould not believe. Although Florrie was very much embarrassed, shewas quite as evidently very much wrought up. Quickly she reachedinto her bag and drew out two photographs, without a word, handingthem to Elaine. Elaine took them reluctantly. 

"There's the proof, " Florrie said simply, choking a sob. 

Elaine looked with a start. Sure enough, there was the neat livingroom in the house on Prospect Avenue. In one picture Florrie hadher arms over Kennedy's shoulders. In the other, apparently, theywere passionately kissing. 

Elaine slowly laid the photographs on the table. 

"Please--please, Miss Dodge--give me back my lost love. You arerich and beautiful--I am poor. I have only my good looks. But--I--I love him--and he--loves me--and has promised to marry me. "

Filled with wonder, and misgivings now, and quite as muchembarrassed at the woman's pleadings as the woman herself hadacted a moment before, Elaine tried to wave her off. 

"Really--I--I don't know anything about all this. It--it doesn'tconcern me. Please--go. "

Florrie had broken down completely and was weeping softly into alace handkerchief. 

She moved toward the door. Elaine followed her. 

"Jennings--please see the lady to the door. "

Back in the drawing room, Elaine almost seized the photographs andhurried into the library where she could be alone. There she stoodgazing at them--doubt, wonder, and fear battling on her plasticfeatures. 

Just then she heard the bell and Jennings in the hall. 

She shoved the photographs away from her on the table. 

It was Kennedy himself, close upon the announcement of the butler. He was in a particularly joyous and happy mood, for he had stoppedat Martin's. 

"How are you this afternoon?" he greeted Elaine gaily. 

Elaine had been too overcome by what had just happened to throw itoff so easily, and received him with a quickly studied coolness. 

Still, Craig, man-like, did not notice it at once. In fact he wastoo busy gazing about to see that neither Jennings, Marie, nor theduenna Aunt Josephine were visible. They were not and he quicklytook the ring from his pocket. Without waiting, he showed it toElaine. In fact, so sure had he been that everything was plainsailing, that he seemed to take it almost for granted. Under othercircumstances, he would have been right. But not tonight. 

Elaine very coolly admired the ring, as Craig might have eyed aspecimen on a microscope slide. Still, he did not notice. 

He took the ring, about to put it on her finger. Elaine drew away. Concealment was not in her frank nature. 

She picked up the two photographs. 

"What have you to say about those?" she asked cuttingly. 

Kennedy, quite surprised, took them and looked at them. Then helet them fall carelessly on the table and dropped into a chair, his head back in a burst of laughter. 

"Why--that was what they put over on Walter, " he said. "He calledme up early this afternoon--told me he had discovered one of thesepoisoned kiss cases you have read about in the papers. Think ofit--all that to pull a concealed camera! Such an elaboratebusiness--just to get me where they could fake this thing. Isuppose they've put some one up to saying she's engaged?"

Elaine was not so lightly affected. "But, " she said severely, repressing her emotion, "I don't understand, MR. Kennedy, howscientific inquiry into 'the poisoned kiss' could necessitate thissort of thing. "

She pointed at the photographs accusingly. 

"But, " he began, trying to explain. 

"No buts, " she interrupted. 

"Then you believe that I--"

"How can you, as a scientist, ask me to doubt the camera, " sheinsinuated, very coldly turning away. 

Kennedy rapidly began to see that it was far more serious than hehad at first thought. 

"Very well, " he said with a touch of impatience, "if my word isnot to be taken--I--I'll--"

He had seized his hat and stick. 

Elaine did not deign to answer. 

Then, without a word he stalked out of the door. 

As he did so, Elaine hastily turned and took a few steps afterhim, as if to recall her words, then stopped, and her pride gotthe better of her. 

She walked slowly back to the chair by the table--the chair he hadbeen sitting in--sank down into it and cried. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Kennedy was moping in the laboratory the next day when I came in. 

Just what the trouble was, I did not know, but I had decided thatit was up to me to try to cheer him up. 

"Say, Craig, " I began, trying to overcome his fit of blues. 

Kennedy, filled with his own thoughts, paid no attention to me. Still, I kept on. 

Finally he got up and, before I knew it, he took me by the ear andmarched me into the next room. 

I saw that what he needed chiefly was to be let alone, and he wentback to his chair, dropping down into it and banging his fists onthe table. Under his breath he loosed a small volley of bitterexpletives. Then he jumped up. 

"By George--I WILL, " he muttered. 

I poked my head out of the door in time to see him grab up his hatand coat and dash from the room, putting his coat on as he went. 

"He's a nut today, " I exclaimed to myself. 

Though I did not know, yet, of the quarrel, Kennedy had reallystruggled with himself until he was willing to put his pride inhis pocket and had made up his mind to call on Elaine again. 

As he entered, he saw that it was really of no use, for only AuntJosephine was in the library. 

"Oh, Mr. Kennedy, " she said innocently enough, "I'm so sorry sheisn't here. There's been something troubling her and she won'ttell me what it is. But she's gone to call on a young woman, aFlorence Leigh, I think. "

"Florence Leigh!" exclaimed Craig with a start and a frown. "Letme use your telephone. "

I had turned my attention in the laboratory to a story I waswriting, when I heard the telephone ring. It was Craig. Without aword of apology for his rudeness, which I knew had been purelyabsent-minded, I heard him saying, "Walter--meet me in half anhour outside that Florence Leigh's house. "

He was gone in a minute, giving me scarcely time to call back thatI would. 

Then, with a hasty apology for his abruptness, he excused himself, leaving Aunt Josephine wondering at his strange actions. 

At about the same time that Craig had left the laboratory, at theDodge house Elaine and Aunt Josephine had been in the hall nearthe library. Elaine was in her street dress. 

"I'm going out, Auntie, " she said with an attempted gaiety. "And, "she added, "if anyone should ask for me, I'll be there. "

She had showed her a card on which was engraved, the name andaddress of Florence Leigh. 

"All right, dear, " answered Aunt Josephine, not quite clear in hermind what subtle change there was in Elaine. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Half an hour later I was waiting near the house in the suburbs towhich I had been directed by the strange telephone call the daybefore. I noticed that it was apparently deserted. The blinds wereclosed and a "To Let" sign was on the side of the house. 

"Hello, Walter, " cried Craig at last, bustling along. He stopped amoment to look at the house. Then, together, we went up the stepsand we rang the bell, gazing about. 

"Strange, " muttered Craig. "The house looks deserted. "

He pointed out the sign and the generally unoccupied look of theplace. Nor was there any answer to our ring. Kennedy paused only asecond, in thought. 

"Come on, Walter, " he said with a sudden decision. "We've got toget in here somehow. "

He led the way around the side of the house to a window, and witha powerful grasp, wrenched open the closed shutters. He had justsmashed the window viciously with his foot when a policemanappeared. 

"Hey, you fellows--what are you doing there?" he shouted. 

Craig paused a second, then pulled his card from his pocket. 

"Just the man I want, " he parried, much to the policeman'ssurprise, "There's something crooked going on here. Follow us in. "

We climbed into the window. There was the same living room we hadseen the day before. But it was now bare and deserted. Everythingwas gone except an old broken chair. Craig and I were franklyamazed at the complete and sudden change and I think the policemanwas a little surprised, for he had thought the place occupied. 

"Come on, " cried Kennedy, beckoning us on. 

Quickly he rushed through the house. There was not a thing in itto change the deserted appearance of the first floor. At last itoccurred to Craig to grope his way down cellar. There was nothingthere, either, except a bin, as innocent of coal as MotherHubbard's cupboard was of food. For several minutes we huntedabout without discovering a thing. 

Kennedy had been carefully going over the place and was at theother side of the cellar from ourselves when I saw him stop andgaze at the floor. He was not looking, apparently, so much aslistening. I strained my ears, but could make out nothing. BeforeI could say anything, he raised his hand for silence. Apparentlyhe had heard something. 

"Hide, " he whispered suddenly to us. 

Without another word, though for the life of me I could makenothing out of it, I pulled the policeman into a little angle ofthe wall nearby, while Craig slipped into a similar angle. 

We waited a moment. Nothing happened. Had he been seeing things orhearing things, I wondered?

From our hidden vantage we could now see a square piece in thefloor, perhaps five feet in diameter, slowly open up as though ona pivot. Beneath it we could make out a tube-like hole, perhapsthree feet across, with a covered top. It slowly opened. 

A weird and sinister figure of a man appeared. Over his head hewore a peculiar helmet with hideous glass pieces over the eyes, and tubes that connected with a tank which he carried buckled tohis back. As he slowly dragged himself out, I could wonder only atthe outlandish headgear. 

Quickly he closed down the cover of the tube, but not before avile effluvium seemed to escape, and penetrate even to us in ourhiding places. As he moved forward, Kennedy gave a flying leap athim, and we followed with a regular football interference. 

It was the work of only a moment for us to subdue and hold him, while Craig ripped off the helmet. 

It was Dan the Dude. 

"What's that thing?" I puffed, as I helped Craig with theheadgear. 

"An oxygen helmet, " he replied. "There must be air down the tubethat cannot be breathed. "

He went over to the tube. Carefully he opened the top and gazeddown, starting back a second later, with his face puckered up atthe noxious odor. 

"Sewer gas, " he ejaculated, as he slammed the cover down. Then headded to the policeman, "Where do you suppose it comes from?"

"Why, " replied the officer, "the St. James Drain--an old sewer--issomewhere about these parts. "

Kennedy puckered his face as he gazed at our prisoner. He reacheddown quickly and lifted something off the man's coat. 

"Golden hair, " he muttered. "Elaine's!"

A moment later he seized the man and shook him roughly. 

"Where is she--tell me?" he demanded. 

The man snarled some kind of reply, refusing to say a word abouther. 

"Tell me, " repeated Kennedy. 

"Humph!" snorted the prisoner, more close-mouthed than ever. 

Kennedy was furious. As he sent the man reeling away from him, heseized the oxygen helmet and began putting it on. There was onlyone thing to do--to follow the clue of the golden strands of hair. 

Down into the pest hole he went, his head protected by the oxygenhelmet. As he cautiously took one step after another down a seriesof iron rungs inside the hole, he found that the water was up tohis chest. At the bottom of the perpendicular pit was a narrow lowpassage way, leading off. It was just about big enough to getthrough, but he managed to grope along it. He came at last to themain drain, an old stone-walled sewer, as murky a place as couldwell be imagined, filled with the foulest sewer gas. He was hardlyable to keep his feet in the swirling, bubbling water that sweptpast, almost up to his neck. 

The minutes passed as the policeman and I watched our prisoner inthe cellar, by the tube. I looked anxiously at my watch. 

"Craig!" I shouted at last, unable to control my fears for him. 

No answer. To go down after him seemed out of the question. 

By this time, Craig had come to a small open chamber into whichthe sewer widened. On the wall he found another series of ironrungs up which he climbed. The gas was terrible. 

As he neared the top of the ladder, he came to a shelf-likeaperture in the sewer chamber, and gazed about. It was horriblydark. He reached out and felt a piece of cloth. Anxiously hepulled on it. Then he reached further into the darkness. 

There was Elaine, unconscious, apparently dead. 

He shook her, endeavoring to wake her up. But it was no use. 

In desperation Craig carried her down the ladder. 

With our prisoner, we could only look helplessly around. Again andagain I looked at my watch as the minutes lengthened. Suppose theoxygen gave out?

"By George, I'm going down after him, " I cried in desperation. 

"Don't do it, " advised the policeman. "You'll never get out. "

One whiff of the horrible gas told me that he was right. I shouldnot have been able to go fifty feet in it. I looked at him indespair. It was impossible. 

"Listen, " said the policeman, straining his ears. 

There was indeed a faint noise from the black depths below us. Arope alongside the rough ladder began to move, as though someonewas pulling it taut. We gazed down. 

"Craig! Craig!" I called. "Is that you?"

No answer. But the rope still moved. Perhaps the helmet made itimpossible for him to hear. 

He had struggled back in the swirling current almost exhausted byhis helpless burden. Holding Elaine's head above the surface ofthe water and pulling on the rope to attract my attention, for hecould neither hear nor shout, he had taken a turn of the ropeabout Elaine. I tried pulling on it. There was something heavy onthe other end and I kept on pulling. 

At last I could make out Kennedy dimly mounting the ladder. Theweight was the unconscious body of Elaine which he steadied as hemounted. I tugged harder and he slowly came up. 

Together, at last, the policeman and I reached down and pulledthem out. 

We placed Elaine on the cellar floor, as comfortably as waspossible, and the policeman began his first-aid motions forresuscitation. 

"No--no, " cried Kennedy, "Not here--take her up where the air isfresher. "

With his revolver still drawn to overawe the prisoner, thepoliceman forced him to aid us in carrying her up the ricketyflight of cellar steps. Kennedy followed quickly, unscrewing theoxygen helmet as he went. 

In the deserted living room we deposited our senseless burden, while Kennedy, the helmet off now, bent over her. 

"Quick--quick!" he cried to the officer, "An ambulance!"

"But the prisoner, " the policeman indicated. 

"Hurry--hurry--I'll take care of him, " urged Craig, seizing thepoliceman's pistol and thrusting it into his pocket. "Walter--helpme. "

He was trying the ordinary methods of resuscitation. Meanwhile theofficer had hurried out, seeking the nearest telephone, while weworked madly to bring Elaine back. 

Again and again Kennedy bent and outstretched her arms, trying toinduce respiration. So busy was I that for the moment I forgot ourprisoner. 

But Dan had seen his chance. Noiselessly he picked up the oldchair in the room and with it raised was approaching Kennedy toknock him out. 

Before I knew it myself, Kennedy had heard him. With a halfinstinctive motion, he drew the revolver from his pocket and, almost before I could see it, had shot the man. Without a word hereturned the gun to his pocket and again bent over Elaine, withoutso much as a look at the crook who sank to the floor, dropping thechair from his nerveless hands. 

Already the policeman had got an ambulance which was now tearingalong to us. 

Frantically Kennedy was working. 

A moment he paused and looked at me--hopeless. 

Just then, outside, we could hear the ambulance, and a doctor andtwo attendants hurried up to the door. Without a word the doctorseemed to appreciate the gravity of the case. 

He finished his examination and shook his head. 

"There is no hope--no hope, " he said slowly. 

Kennedy merely stared at him. But the rest of us instinctivelyremoved our hats. 

Kennedy gazed at Elaine, overcome. Was this the end?

It was not many minutes later that Kennedy had Elaine in thelittle sitting room off the laboratory, having taken her there inthe ambulance, with the doctor and two attendants. 

Elaine's body had been placed on a couch, covered by a blanket, and the shades were drawn. The light fell on her pale face. 

There was something incongruous about death and the vastcollection of scientific apparatus, a ghastly mocking of humanity. How futile was it all in the presence of the great destroyer?

Aunt Josephine had arrived, stunned, and a moment later, PerryBennett. As I looked at the sorrowful party, Aunt Josephine roseslowly from her position on her knees where she had been weepingsilently beside Elaine, and pressed her hands over her eyes, withevery indication of faintness. 

Before any of us could do anything, she had staggered into thelaboratory itself, Bennett and I following quickly. There I wasbusy for some time getting restoratives. 

Meanwhile Kennedy, beside the couch, with an air of desperatedetermination, turned away and opened a cabinet. From it he took alarge coil and attached it to a storage battery, dragging thepeculiar apparatus near Elaine's couch. 

To an electric light socket, Craig attached wires. The doctorwatched him in silent wonder. 

"Doctor, " he asked slowly as he worked, "do you know of ProfessorLeduc of the Nantes Ecole de Medicin?"

"Why--yes, " answered the doctor, "but what of him?"

"Then you know of his method of electrical resuscitation. "

"Yes--but--" He paused, looking apprehensively at Kennedy. 

Craig paid no attention to his fears, but approaching the couch onwhich Elaine lay, applied the electrodes. "You see, " he explained, with forced calmness, "I apply the anode here--the cathode there. "

The ambulance surgeon looked on excitedly, as Craig turned on thecurrent, applying it to the back of the neck and to the spine. 

For some minutes the machine worked. 

Then the young doctor's eyes began to bulge. 

"My heavens!" he cried under his breath. "Look!"

Elaine's chest had slowly risen and fallen. Kennedy, his attentionriveted on his work, applied himself with redoubled efforts. Theyoung doctor looked on with increased wonder. 

"Look! The color in her face! See her lips!" he cried. 

At last her eyes slowly fluttered open--then closed. 

Would the machine succeed? Or was it just the galvanic effect ofthe current? The doctor noticed it and quickly placed his ear toher heart. His face was a study in astonishment. The minutes spedfast. 

To us outside, who had no idea what was transpiring in the otherroom, the minutes were leaden-feeted. Aunt Josephine, weak but nowherself again, was sitting nervously. 

Just then the door opened. 

I shall never forget the look on the young ambulance surgeon'sface, as he murmured under his breath, "Come here--the age ofmiracles is not passed--look!"

Raising his finger to indicate that we were to make no noise, heled us into the other room. 

Kennedy was bending over the couch. 

Elaine, her eyes open, now, was gazing up at him, and a wan smileflitted over her beautiful face. 

Kennedy had taken her hand, and as he heard us enter, turned halfway to us, while we stared in blank wonder from Elaine to theweird and complicated electrical apparatus. 

"It is the life-current, " he said simply, patting the Leducapparatus with his other hand. 

CHAPTER XI

THE HOUR OF THREE

With the ominous forefinger of his Clutching Hand extended, themaster criminal emphasized his instructions to his minions. 

"Perry Bennett, her lawyer, is in favor again with Elaine Dodge, "he was saying. "She and Kennedy are on the outs even yet. But theymay become reconciled. Then she'll have that fellow on our trailagain. Before that happens, we must 'get' her--see?"

It was in the latest headquarters to which Craig had chased thecriminal, in one of the toughest parts of the old Greenwichvillage, on the west side of New York, not far from the riverfront. 

They were all seated in a fairly large but dingy old room, inwhich were several chairs, a rickety table and, against the wall, a roll-top desk on the top of which was a telephone. 

Several crooks of the gang were sitting about, smoking. 

"Now, " went on Clutching Hand, "I want you, Spike, to follow them. See what they do--where they go. It's her birthday. Something'sbound to occur that will give you a lead. All you've got to do isto use your head. Get me?"

Spike rose, nodded, picked up his hat and coat and squirmed out onhis mission, like the snake that he was. 

 . . . . . . . . 

It was, as Clutching Hand had said, Elaine's birthday. She hadreceived many callers and congratulations, innumerable costly andbeautiful tokens of remembrance from her countless friends andadmirers. In the conservatory of the Dodge house Elaine, AuntJosephine, and Susie Martin were sitting discussing not only thehappy occasion, but, more, the many strange events of the past fewweeks. 

"Well, " cried a familiar voice behind them. "What would a certainblonde young lady accept as a birthday present from her familylawyer?"

All three turned in surprise. 

"Oh, Mr. Bennett, " cried Elaine. "How you startled us!"

He laughed and repeated his question, adopting the tone that hehad once used in the days when he had been more in favor with thepretty heiress, before the advent of Kennedy. 

Elaine hesitated. She was thinking not so much of his words as ofKennedy. To them all, however, it seemed that she was unable tomake up her mind what, in the wealth of her luxury, she wouldlike. 

Susie Martin had been wondering whether, now that Bennett washere, she were not de trop, and she looked at her wrist watchmechanically. As she did so, an idea occurred to her. 

"Why not one of these?" she cried impulsively, indicating thewatch. "Father has some beauties at the shop. "

"Oh, good, " exclaimed Elaine, "how sweet!"

She welcomed the suggestion, for she had been thinking thatperhaps Bennett might be hinting too seriously at a solitaire. 

"So that strikes your fancy?" he asked. "Then let's all go to theshop. Miss Martin will personally conduct the tour, and we shallhave our pick of the finest stock. "

A moment later the three young people went out and were quicklywhirled off down the Avenue in the Dodge town car. 

It was too gay a party to notice a sinister figure following themin a cab. But as they entered the fashionable jewelry shop, Spike, who had alighted, walked slowly down the street. 

Chatting with animation, the three moved over to the watchcounter, while the crook, with a determination not to risk missinganything, entered the shop door, too. 

"Mr. Thomas, " asked Susie as her father's clerk bowed to them, "please show Miss Dodge the wrist watches father was tellingabout. "

With another deferential bow, the clerk hastened to display a caseof watches and they bent over them. As each new watch was pointedout, Elaine was delighted. 

Unobserved, the crook walked over near enough to hear what wasgoing on. 

At last, with much banter and yet care, Elaine selected one thatwas indeed a beauty and was about to snap it on her dainty wrist, when the clerk interrupted. 

"I beg pardon, " he suggested, "but I'd advise you to leave it tobe regulated, if you please. "

"Yes, indeed, " chimed in Susie. "Father always advises that. "

Reluctantly, Elaine handed it over to the clerk. 

"Oh, thank you, ever so much, Mr. Bennett, " she said as heunobtrusively paid for the watch and gave the address to which itwas to be sent when ready. 

A moment later they went out and entered the car again. 

As they did so, Spike, who had been looking various things in thenext case over as if undecided, came up to the watch counter. 

"I'm making a present, " he remarked confidentially to the clerk. "How about those bracelet watches?"

The clerk pulled out some of the cheaper ones. 

"No, " he said thoughtfully, pointing out a tray in the show case, "something like those. "

He ended by picking out one identically like that which Elaine hadselected, and started to pay for it. 

"Better have it regulated, " repeated the clerk. 

"No, " he objected hastily, shaking his head and paying the moneyquickly. "It's a present--and I want it tonight. "

He took the watch and left the store hurriedly. 

 . . . . . . . . 

In the laboratory, Kennedy was working over an oblong oak box, perhaps eighteen inches in length and half as high. In the box Icould see, besides other apparatus, two good sized spools of finewire. 

"What's all that?" I asked inquisitively. 

"Another of the new instruments that scientific detectives use, "he responded, scarcely looking up, "a little magnetic wizard, thetelegraphone. "

"Which is?" I prompted. 

"Something we detectives might use to take down and 'can'telephone and other conversations. When it is attached properly toa telephone, it records everything that is said over the wire. "

"How does it work?" I asked, much mystified. 

"Well, it is based on an entirely new principle, in every waydifferent from the phonograph, " he explained. "As you can seethere are no discs or cylinders, but these spools of extremelyfine steel wire. The record is not made mechanically on acylinder, but electromagnetically on this wire. "

"How?" I asked, almost incredulously. 

"To put it briefly, " he went on, "small portions of magnetism, asit were, are imparted to fractions of the steel wire as it passesbetween two carbon electric magnets. Each impression represents asound wave. There is no apparent difference in the wire, yet eachparticle of steel undergoes an electromagnetic transformation bywhich the sound is indelibly imprinted on it. "

"Then you scrape the wire, just as you shave records to use itover again?" I suggested. 

"No, " he replied. "You pass a magnet over it and the magnetautomatically erases the record. Rust has no effect. The recordlasts as long as steel lasts. "

Craig continued to tinker tantalizingly with the machine which hadbeen invented by a Dane, Valdemar Poulsen. 

He had scarcely finished testing out the telegraphone, when thelaboratory door opened and a clean-cut young man entered. 

Kennedy, I knew, had found that the routine work of the ClutchingHand case was beyond his limited time and had retained this youngman, Raymond Chase, to attend to that. 

Chase was a young detective whom Craig had employed on shadowingjobs and as a stool pigeon on other cases, and we had all theconfidence in the world in him. 

Just now what worried Craig was the situation with Elaine, and Ifancied that he had given Chase some commission in connection withthat. 

"I've got it, Mr. Kennedy, " greeted Chase with quiet modesty. 

"Good, " responded Craig heartily. "I knew you would. "

"Got what?" I asked a moment later. 

Kennedy nodded for Chase to answer. 

"I've located the new residence of Flirty Florrie, " he replied. 

I saw what Kennedy was after at once. Flirty Florrie and Dan theDude had caused the quarrel between himself and Elaine. Dan theDude was dead. But Flirty Florrie might be forced to explain it. 

"That's fine, " he added, exultingly. "Now, I'll clear that thingup. "

He took a hasty step to the telephone, put his hand on thereceiver and was about to take it off the hook. Then he paused, and I saw his face working. The wound Elaine had given hisfeelings was deep. It had not yet quite healed. 

Finally, his pride, for Kennedy's was a highly sensitive nature, got the better of him. 

"No, " he said, half to himself, "not--yet. "

Elaine had returned home. 

Alone, her thoughts naturally went back to what had happenedrecently to interrupt a friendship which had been the sweetest inher life. 

"There MUST be some mistake, " she murmured pensively to herself, thinking of the photograph Flirty had given her. "Oh, why did Isend him away? Why didn't I believe him?"

Then she thought of what had happened, of how she had been seizedby Dan the Dude in the deserted house, of how the noxious gas hadovercome her. 

They had told her of how Craig had risked his life to save her, how she had been brought home, still only half alive, after hisalmost miraculous work with the new electric machine. 

There was his picture. She had not taken that away. As she lookedat it, a wave of feeling came over her. Mechanically, she put outher hand to the telephone. 

She was about to take off the receiver, when something seemed tostay her hand. She wanted him to come to her. 

And, if either of them had called the other just then, they wouldhave probably crossed wires. 

Of such stuff are the quarrels of lovers. 

Craig's eye fell on the telegraphone, and an idea seemed to occurto him. 

"Walter, you and Chase bring that thing along, " he said a momentlater. 

He paused long enough to take a badge from the drawer of acabinet, and went out. We followed him, lugging the telegraphone. 

At last we came to the apartment house at which Chase had locatedthe woman. 

"There it is, " he pointed out, as I gave a groan of relief, forthe telegraphone was getting like lead. 

Kennedy nodded and drew from his pocket the badge I had seen himtake from the cabinet. 

"Now, Chase, " he directed, "you needn't go in with us. Walter andI can manage this, now. But don't get out of touch with me. Ishall need you any moment--certainly tomorrow. "

I saw that the badge read, Telephone Inspector. 

"Walter, " he smiled, "you're elected my helper. "

We entered the apartment house hall and found a Negro boy incharge of the switchboard. It took Craig only a moment to convincethe boy that he was from the company and that complaints had beenmade by some anonymous tenant. 

"You look over that switchboard, Kelly, " he winked at me, "while Itest out the connections back here. There must be something wrongwith the wires or there wouldn't be so many complaints. "

He had gone back of the switchboard and the Negro, stillunsuspicious, watched without understanding what it was all about. 

"I don't know, " Craig muttered finally for the benefit of the boy, "but I think I'll have to leave that tester after all. Say, if Iput it here, you'll have to be careful not to let anyone meddlewith it. If you do, there'll be the deuce to pay. See?"

Kennedy had already started to fasten the telegraphone to thewires he had selected from the tangle. 

At last he finished and stood up. 

"Don't disturb it and don't let anyone else touch it, " he ordered. "Better not tell anyone--that's the best way. I'll be back for ittomorrow probably. "

"Yas sah, " nodded the boy, with a bow, as we went out. 

We returned to the laboratory, where there seemed to be nothing wecould do now except wait for something to happen. 

Kennedy, however, employed the time by plunging into work, most ofthe time experimenting with a peculiar little coil to which ranthe wires of an ordinary electric bell. 

Back in the new hang-out, the Clutching Hand was laying down thelaw to his lieutenants and heelers, when Spike at last entered. 

"Huh!" growled the master criminal, covering the fact that he wasconsiderably relieved to see him at last, "where have YOU been?I've been off on a little job myself and got back. "

Spike apologized profusely. He had succeeded so easily that he hadthought to take a little time to meet up with an old pal whom heran across, just out of prison. 

"Yes sir, " he replied hastily, "well, I went over to the Dodgehouse, and I saw them finally. Followed them into a jewelry shop. That lawyer bought her a wrist watch. So I bought one just likeit. I thought perhaps we could--" "Give it to me, " growledClutching Hand, seizing it the moment Slim displayed it. "Anddon't butt in--see?"

From the capacious desk, the master criminal pulled a set of smalldrills, vices, and other jeweler's tools and placed them on thetable. 

"All right, " he relented. "Now, do you see what I have justthought of--no? This is just the chance. Look at me. "

The heelers gathered around him, peering curiously at their masteras he worked at the bracelet watch. 

Carefully he plied his hands to the job, regardless of time. 

"There, " he exclaimed at last, holding the watch up where theycould all see it. "See!"

He pulled out the stem to set the hands and slowly twisted itbetween his thumb and finger. He turned the hands until they werealmost at the point of three o'clock. 

Then he held the watch out where all could see it. 

They bent closer and strained their eyes at the little second handticking away merrily. 

As the minute hand touched three, from the back of the case, as iffrom the casing itself, a little needle, perhaps a quarter of aninch, jumped out. It seemed to come from what looked like merely asmall inset in the decorations. 

"You see what will happen at the hour of three?" he asked. 

No one said a word, as he held up a vial which he had drawn fromhis pocket. On it they could read the label, "Ricinus. "

"One of the most powerful poisons in the world!" he exclaimed. "Enough here to kill a regiment!"

They fairly gasped and looked at it with horror, exchangingglances. Then they looked at him in awe. There was no wonder thatClutching Hand kept them in line, once he had a crook in hispower. 

Opening the vial carefully, he dipped in a thin piece of glass andplaced a tiny drop in a receptacle back of the needle and on theneedle itself. 

Altogether it savored of the ancient days of the Borgias withtheir weird poisoned rings. 

Then he dropped the vial back into his pocket, pressed a spring, and the needle went back into its unsuspected hiding place. 

"I've set my invention to go off at three o'clock, " he concluded. "Tomorrow forenoon, it will have to be delivered early--and Idon't believe we shall be troubled any longer by Miss ElaineDodge, " he added venomously. 

Even the crooks, hardened as they were, could only gasp. 

Calmly he wrapped up the apparently innocent engine of destructionand handed it to Spike. 

"See that she gets it in time, " he said merely. 

"I will, sir, " answered Spike, taking it gingerly. 

Flirty Florrie had returned that afternoon, late, from someexpedition on which she had been sent. 

Rankling in her heart yet was the death of her lover, Dan theDude. For, although in her sphere of crookdom they are neithermarried nor given in marriage, still there is a brand of loyaltythat higher circles might well copy. Sacred to the memory of thedead, however, she had one desire--revenge. 

Thus when she arrived home, she went to the telephone to reportand called a number, 4494 Greenwich. 

"Hello, Chief, " she repeated. "This is Flirty. Have you doneanything yet in the little matter we talked about?"

"Say--be careful of names--over the wire, " came a growl. 

"You know--what I mean. "

"Yes. The trick will be pulled off at three o'clock. " "Good!" sheexclaimed. "Good-bye and thank you. "

With his well-known caution Clutching Hand did not even betraynames over the telephone if he could help it. 

Flirty hung up the receiver with satisfaction. The manes of thedeparted Dan might soon rest in peace!

The next day, early in the forenoon, a young man with a smallpackage carefully done up came to the Dodge house. 

"From Martin's, the jeweler's, for Miss Dodge, " he said toJennings at the door. 

Elaine and Aunt Josephine were sitting in the library whenJennings announced him. 

"Oh, it's my watch, " cried Elaine. "Show him in. "

Jennings bowed and did so. Spike entered, and handed the packageto Elaine, who signed her name excitedly and opened it. 

"Just look, Auntie, " she exclaimed. "Isn't it stunning?"

"Very pretty, " commented Aunt Josephine. 

Elaine put the watch on her wrist and admired it. 

"Is it all right?" asked Spike. 

"Yes, yes, " answered Elaine. "You may go. "

He went out, while Elaine gazed rapturously at the new trinketwhile it ticked off the minutes--this devilish instrument. 

Early the same morning Kennedy went around again to the apartmenthouse and, cautious not to be seen by Flirty, recovered thetelegraphone. Together we carried it to the laboratory. 

There he set up a little instrument that looked like a wedgesitting up on end, in the face of which was a dial. Through it hebegan to run the wire from the spools, and, taking an earpiece, put another on my head over my ears. 

"You see, " he explained, "the principle on which this is based isthat a mass of tempered steel may be impressed with and willretain magnetic fluxes varying in density and in sign in adjacentportions of itself--little deposits of magnetic impulse. 

"When the telegraphone is attached to the telephone wire, thecurrents that affect the receiver also affect the coils of thetelegraphone and the disturbance set up causes a deposit ofmagnetic impulse on the steel wire. 

"When the wire is again run past these coils with a receiver suchas I have here in circuit with the coils, a light vibration is setup in the receiver diaphragm which reproduces the sound ofspeech. " He turned a switch and we listened eagerly. There was nograting and thumping, as he controlled the running off of thewire. We were listening to everything that had been said over thetelephone during the time since we left the machine. 

First came several calls from people with bills and she put themoff most adroitly. 

Then we heard a call that caused Kennedy to look at me quickly, stop the machine and start at that point over again. 

"That's what I wanted, " he said as we listened in:

"Give me 4494 Greenwich. "

"Hello. "

"Hello, Chief. This is Flirty. Have you done anything yet in thelittle matter we talked about?

"Say--be careful of names--over the wire. "

"You know--what I mean. "

"Yes, the trick will be pulled off at three o'clock. 

"Good! Good-bye and thank you!"

"Good-bye. "

Kennedy stopped the machine and I looked at him blankly. 

"She called Greenwich 4494 and was told that the trick would bepulled off at three o'clock today, " he ruminated. 

"What trick?" I asked. 

He shook his head. "I don't know. That is what we must find out. Ihadn't expected a tip like that. What I wanted was to find out howto get at the Clutching Hand. "

He paused and considered a minute, then moved to the telephone. 

"There's only one thing to do and that's to follow out my originalscheme, " he said energetically. "Information, please. "

"Where is Greenwich 4494?" he asked a moment later. 

The minutes passed. "Thank you, " he cried, writing down on a padan address over on the west side near the river front. Thenturning to me he explained, "Walter, we've got him at last!"

Craig rose and put on his hat and coat, thrusting a pair of operaglasses into his pocket, in case we should want to observe theplace at a distance. I followed him excitedly. The trail was hot. 

Kennedy and I came at last to the place on the West Side where thecrooked streets curved off. 

Instead of keeping on until he came to the place we sought, heturned and quickly slipped behind the shelter of a fence. Therewas a broken board in the fence and he bent down, gazing throughwith the opera glasses. 

Across the lot was the new headquarters, a somewhat dilapidatedold-fashioned brick house of several generations back. Through theglass we could see an evil-countenanced crook slinking along. Hemounted the steps and rang the bell, turning as he waited. 

From a small aperture in the doorway looked out another face, equally evil. Under cover, the crook made the sign of theclutching hand twice and was admitted. 

"That's the place, all right, " whispered Kennedy withsatisfaction. 

He hurried to a telephone booth where he called several numbers. Then we returned to the laboratory, while Kennedy quickly figuredout a plan of action. I knew Chase was expected there soon. 

From the table he picked up the small coil over which I had seenhim working, and attached it to the bell and some batteries. Hereplaced it on the table, while I watched curiously. 

"A selenium cell, " he explained. "Only when light falls on it doesit become a good conductor of electricity. Then the bell willring. "

Just before making the connection he placed his hat over the cell. Then he lifted the hat. The light fell on it and the bell rang. Hereplaced the hat and the bell stopped. It was evidently a verypeculiar property of the substance, selenium. 

Just then there came a knock at the door. I opened it. 

"Hello, Chase, " greeted Kennedy. "Well, I've found the newheadquarters all right, --over on the west side. "

Kennedy picked up the selenium cell and a long coil of fine wirewhich he placed in a bag. Then he took another bag already packedand, shifting them between us, we hurried down town. 

Near the vacant lot, back of the new headquarters, was an oldbroken down house. Through the rear of it we entered. 

I started back in astonishment as we found eight or ten policemenalready there. Kennedy had ordered them to be ready for a raid andthey had dropped in one at a time without attracting attention. 

"Well, men, " he greeted them, "I see you found the place allright. Now, in a little while Jameson will return with two wires. Attach them to the bell which I will leave here. When it rings, raid the house. Jameson will lead you to it. Come, Walter, " headded, picking up the bags. 

Ten minutes later, outside the new headquarters, a crouched upfigure, carrying a small package, his face hidden under his softhat and up-turned collar, could have been seen slinking alonguntil he came to the steps. 

He went up and peered through the aperture of the doorway. Then herang the bell. Twice he raised his hand and clenched it in the nowfamiliar clutch. 

A crook inside saw it through the aperture and opened the door. The figure entered and almost before the door was shut tied themasking handkerchief over his face, which hid his identity fromeven the most trusted lieutenants. The crook bowed to the chief, who, with a growl as though of recognition, moved down the hall. 

As he came to the room from which Spike had been sent on hismission, the same group was seated in the thick tobacco smoke. 

"You fellows clear out, " he growled. "I want to be alone. "

"The old man is peeved, " muttered one, outside, as they left. 

The weird figure gazed about the room to be sure that he wasalone. 

When Craig and I left the police he had given me most minuteinstructions which I was now following out to the letter. 

"I want you to hide there, " he said, indicating a barrel back ofthe house next to the hang-out. "When you see a wire come downfrom the headquarters, take it and carry it across the lot to theold house. Attach it to the bell; then wait. When it rings, raidthe Clutching Hand joint. "

I waited what seemed to be an interminable time back of the barreland it is no joke hiding back of a barrel. 

Finally, however, I saw a coil of fine wire drop rapidly to theground from a window somewhere above. I made a dash for it, asthough I were trying to rush the trenches, seized my prize andwithout looking back to see where it came from, beat a hastyretreat. 

Around the lot I skirted, until at last I reached the place wherethe police were waiting. Quickly we fastened the wire to the bell. 

We waited. 

Not a sound from the bell. 

Up in the room in the joint, the hunched up figure stood by thetable. He had taken his hat off and placed it carefully on thetable, and was now waiting. 

Suddenly a noise at the door startled him. He listened. Then hebacked away from the door and drew a revolver. 

As the door slowly opened there entered another figure, hat overhis eyes, collar up, a handkerchief over his face, the exactcounterpart of the first!

For a moment each glared at the other. 

"Hands up!" shouted the first figure, hoarsely, moving the gun andclosing the door, with his foot. 

The newcomer slowly raised his crooked hand over his head, as theblue steel revolver gaped menacingly. 

With a quick movement of the other hand, the first sinister figureremoved the handkerchief from his face and straightened up. 

It was Kennedy!

"Come over to the center of the room, " ordered Kennedy. 

Clutching Hand obeyed, eyeing his captor closely. 

"Now lay your weapons on the table. "

He tossed down a revolver. 

The two still faced each other. 

"Take off that handkerchief!"

It was a tense moment. Slowly Clutching Hand started to obey. Thenhe stopped. Kennedy was just about to thunder, "Go on, " when thecriminal calmly remarked, "You've got ME all right, Kennedy, butin twenty minutes Elaine Dodge will be dead!"

He said it with a nonchalance that might have deceived anyone lessastute than Kennedy. Suddenly there flashed over Craig the words:"THE TRICK WILL BE PULLED OFF AT THREE O'CLOCK!"

There was no fake about that. Kennedy frowned. If he killedClutching Hand, Elaine would die. If he fought, he must eitherkill or be killed. If he handed Clutching Hand over, all he had todo was to keep quiet. He looked at his watch. It was twenty-fiveminutes of three. 

What a situation!

He had caught a prisoner he dared not molest--yet. 

"What do you mean--tell me?" demanded Kennedy with forced calm. 

"Yesterday Mr. Bennett bought a wrist watch for Elaine, " theClutching Hand said quietly. "They left it to be regulated. One ofmy men bought one just like it. Mine was delivered to her today. "

"A likely story!" doubted Kennedy. 

For answer, the Clutching Hand pointed to the telephone. 

Kennedy reached for it. 

"One thing, " interrupted the Clutching Hand. "You are a man ofhonor. "

"Yes--yes. Go on. "

"If I tell you what to do, you must promise to give me a fightingchance. "

"Yes, yes. "

"Call up Aunt Josephine, then. Do just as I say. "

Covering Clutching Hand, Kennedy called a number. "This is Mr. Kennedy, Mrs. Dodge. Did Elaine receive a present of a wrist watchfrom Mr. Bennett?"

"Yes, " she replied, "for her birthday. It came this forenoon. "

Kennedy hung up the receiver and faced Clutching Hand puzzled asthe latter said, "Call up Martin, the jeweler. "

Again Kennedy obeyed. 

"Has the watch purchased for Miss Elaine Dodge been delivered?" heasked the clerk. 

"No, " came back the reply, "the watch Mr. Bennett bought is stillhere being regulated. "

Kennedy hung up the receiver. He was stunned. 

"The watch will cause her death at three o'clock, " said theClutching Hand. "Swear to leave here without discovering myidentity and I will tell you how. You can save her!"

A moment Kennedy thought. Here was a quandary. 

"No, " he shouted, seizing the telephone. 

Before Kennedy could move, Clutching Hand had pulled the telephonewires with almost superhuman strength from the junction box. 

"In that watch, " he hissed, "I have set a poisoned needle in aspring that will be released and will plunge it into her arm atexactly three o'clock. On the needle is ricinus!"

Craig advanced, furious. As he did so, Clutching Hand pointedcalmly to the clock. It was twenty minutes of three!

With a mental struggle, Kennedy controlled his loathing of thecreature before him. 

"All right--but you'll hear from me--sooner than you suspect, " heshouted, starting for the door. 

Then he came back and lifted his hat, hiding as much as possiblethe selenium cell, letting the light fall on it. 

"Only Elaine's life has saved you. "

With a last threat he dashed out. He hailed a cab, returning fromsome steamship wharves not far away. 

"Quick!" he ordered, giving the Dodge address on Fifth Avenue. 

Minute after minute the police and I waited. Was anything wrong?Where was Craig?

Just then a tremor grew into a tinkle, then came the strong burrof the bell. Kennedy needed us. 

With a shout of encouragement to the men I dashed out and over tothe old house. 

Meanwhile Clutching Hand himself had approached the table torecover his weapon and had noticed the queer little selenium cell. He picked it up and for the first time saw the wire leading out. 

"The deuce!" he cried. "He's planned to get me anyhow!"

Clutching Hand rushed to the door--then stopped short. Outside hecould hear the police and myself. We had shot the lock on theoutside and were already inside. 

Clutching Hand slammed shut his door and pulled down over it aheavy wooden bar. A few steps took him to the window. There werepolice in the back yard, too. He was surrounded. 

But he did not hurry. He knew what to do with every second. 

At the desk he paused and took out a piece of cardboard. Then witha heavy black marking pencil, he calmly printed on it, while webattered at the barricaded door, a few short feet away. 

He laid the sign on the desk, then on another piece of cardboard, drew crudely a hand with the index finger, pointing. This heplaced on a chair, indicating the desk. 

Just as the swaying and bulging door gave way, Clutching Hand gavethe desk a pull. It opened up--his getaway. 

He closed it with a sardonic smile in our direction, just beforethe door crashed in. 

We looked about. There was not a soul in the room, nothing but theselenium cell, the chairs, the desk. 

"Look!" I cried catching sight of the index finger, and going overto the desk. 

We rolled back the top. There on the flat top was a sign:

Dear Blockheads:

Kennedy and I couldn't wait. 

Yours as ever, Then came that mysterious sign of the Clutching Hand. 

We hunted over the rooms, but could find nothing that showed aclue. Where was Clutching Hand? Where was Kennedy?

In the next house Clutching Hand had literally come out of anupright piano into the room corresponding to that he had left. Hastily he threw off his handkerchief, slouch hat, old coat andtrousers. A neat striped pair of trousers replaced the old, frayedand baggy pair. A new shirt, then a sporty vest and a frock coatfollowed. As he put the finishing touches on, he looked for allthe world like a bewhiskered foreigner. 

With a silk hat and stick, he surveyed himself, straightening histie. At the door of the new headquarters, a few seconds later, Istood with the police. 

"Not a sign of him anywhere, " growled one of the officers. 

Nor was there. Down the street we could see only a straight well-dressed, distinguished looking man who had evidently walked downto the docks to see a friend off, perhaps. 

Elaine was sitting in the library reading when Aunt Josephineturned to her. 

"What time is it, dear?" she asked. 

Elaine glanced at her pretty new trinket. 

"Nearly three, Auntie--a couple of minutes, " she said. 

Just then there came the sound of feet running madly down the hallway. They jumped up, startled. 

Kennedy, his coat flying, and hat jammed over his eyes, had almostbowled over poor Jennings in his mad race down the hall. 

"Well, " demanded Elaine haughtily, "what's--"

Before she knew what was going on, Craig hurried up to her andliterally ripped the watch off her wrist, breaking the beautifulbracelet. 

He held it up, gingerly. Elaine was speechless. Was this Kennedy?Was he possessed by such an inordinate jealousy of Bennett?

As he held the watch up, the second hand ticked around and theminute hand passed the meridian of the hour. 

A viciously sharp little needle gleamed out--then sprang back intothe filigree work again. 

"Well, " she gasped again, "what's the occasion of THIS?"

Craig gazed at Elaine in silence. 

Should he defend his rudeness, if she did not understand? Shestamped her foot, and repeated the question a third time. 

"What do you mean, sir, by such conduct?"

Slowly he bowed. 

"I just don't like the kind of birthday presents you receive, " hesaid, turning on his heel. "Good afternoon. "

CHAPTER XII

THE BLOOD CRYSTALS

"On your right is the residence of Miss Elaine Dodge, the heiress, who is pursuing the famous master criminal known as the ClutchingHand. "

The barker had been grandiloquently pointing out the residences ofnoted New Yorkers as the big sightseeing car lumbered alongthrough the streets. The car was filled with people and he pliedhis megaphone as though he were on intimate terms with all thecity's notables. 

No one paid any attention to the unobtrusive Chinaman who satinconspicuously in the middle of the car. He was Mr. Long Sin, butno one saw anything particularly mysterious about an orientalvisitor more or less viewing New York City. 

Long was of the mandarin type, with drooping mustache, welldressed in American clothes, and conforming to the new customs ofan occidentalized China. 

Anyone, however, who had been watching Long Sin would have seenthat he showed much interest whenever any of the wealthy residentsof the city were mentioned. The name of Elaine Dodge seemedparticularly to strike him. He listened with subtle interest towhat the barker said and looked keenly at the Dodge house. 

The sight-seeing car had passed the house, when he rose slowly andmotioned that he wanted to be let off. The car stopped, healighted and slowly rambled away, evidently marvelling greatly atthe strange customs of these uncouth westerners. 

Elaine was going out, when she met Perry Bennett almost on thesteps of the house. 

"I've brought you the watch, " remarked Bennett; "thought I'd liketo give it to you myself. "

He displayed the watch which he himself had bought a couple ofdays before for her birthday. He had called for it himself at thejeweller's where it had now been regulated. 

"Oh, thank you, " exclaimed Elaine. "Won't you come in?"

They had scarcely greeted each other, when Long Sin strolledalong. Neither of them, however, had time to notice the quietChinaman who passed the house, looking at Elaine sharply out ofthe corner of his eye. They entered and Long disappeared down thestreet. 

"Isn't it a beauty?" cried Elaine, holding it out from her, asthey entered the library and examining it with great appreciation. "And, oh, do you know, the strangest thing happened yesterday?Sometimes Mr. Kennedy acts too queerly for anything. "

She related how Craig had burst in on her and Aunt Josephine andhad almost torn the other watch off her wrist. 

"Another watch?" repeated Bennett, amazed. "It must have been amistake. Kennedy is crazy. "

"I don't understand it, myself, " murmured Elaine. 

Long Sin had continued his placid way, revolving some dark anddevious plan beneath his impassive Oriental countenance. He was noordinary personage. In fact he was astute enough to have norecord. He left that to his tools. 

This remarkable criminal had established himself in a hiredapartment downtown. It was furnished in rather elegant Americanstyle, but he had added to it some most valuable Oriental curioswhich gave it a fascinating appearance. 

Long Sin, now in rich Oriental costume, was reclining on a divansmoking a strange looking pipe and playing with two pet whiterats. Each white rat had a gold band around his leg, to which wasconnected a gold chain about a foot in length, and the chainsended in rings which were slipped over Long's little fingers. Ordinarily, he carried the pets up the capacious sleeve of eacharm. 

A servant, also in native costume, entered and boweddeferentially. 

"A Miss Mary Carson, " she lisped in soft English. 

"Let the lady enter, " waved Long Sin, with a smile of subtlesatisfaction. 

The girl bowed again and silently left the room, returning with ahandsome, very well dressed white woman. 

It would be difficult to analyze just what the fascination wasthat Long Sin exercised over Mary Carson. But as the servant leftthe room, Mary bowed almost as deferentially as the little Chinesegirl. Long merely nodded in reply. 

After a moment, he slowly rose and took from a drawer a newspaperclipping. Without a word, he handed it to Mary. She looked at itwith interest, as one woman always does at the picture of anotherpretty woman. It was a newspaper cut of Elaine, under which was:

ELAINE DODGE, THE HEIRESS, WHOSE BATTLE WITH THE CLUTCHING HAND ISCREATING WORLD WIDE INTEREST. 

"Now, " he began, at last, breaking the silence, "I'll show youjust what I want you to do. "

He went over to the wall and took down a curious long Chineseknife from a scabbard which hung there conspicuously. 

"See that?" he added, holding it up. 

Before she could say a word, he had plunged the knife, apparently, into his own breast. 

"Oh!" cried Mary, startled. 

She expected to see him fall. But nothing happened. Long Sinlaughed. It was an Oriental trick knife in which the bladetelescoped into the handle. 

"Look at it, " he added, handing it to her. 

Long Sin took a bladder of water from a table nearby and concealedit under his coat. "Now, you stab me, " he directed. 

Mary hesitated. But he repeated the command and she plunged theknife gingerly at him. It telescoped. He made her try it over andshe stabbed more resolutely. The water from the bladder pouredout. 

"Good!" cried Long Sin, much pleased. "Now, " he added, seatinghimself beside her, "I want you to lure Elaine here. "

Mary looked at him inquiringly as he returned the knife to itsscabbard on the wall. "Remember where it is, " he continued. "Now, if you will come into the other room I will show you how to gether. "

I had been amusing myself by rigging up a contrivance by which Icould make it possible to see through or rather over, a door. Theidea had been suggested to me by the cystoscope which physiciansuse in order to look down one's throat, and I had calculated thatby using three mirrors placed at proper angles, I could easilyreflect rays down to the level of my eye. 

Kennedy, who had been busy in the other end of the laboratory, happened to look over in my direction. "What's the big idea, Walter?" he asked. 

It was, I admit, a rather cumbersome and clumsy affair. 

"Well, you see, Craig, " I explained, "you put the top mirrorthrough the transom of a door and--"

Kennedy interrupted with a hearty burst of laughter. "But supposethe door has no transom?" he asked, pointing to our own door. 

I scratched my head, thoughtfully. I had assumed that the doorwould have a transom. A moment later, Craig went to the cabinetand drew out a tube about as big around as a putty blower and aslong. 

"Now, here's what I call my detectascope, " he remarked. "None ofyour mirrors for me. "

"I know, " I said somewhat nettled, "but what can you see throughthat putty blower? A key hole is just as good. "

"Do you realize how little you can really see through a key hole?"he replied confidently. "Try it over there. "

I did and to tell the truth I could see merely a little part ofthe hall. Then Kennedy inserted the detectascope. 

"Look through that, " he directed. 

I put my eye to the eye-piece and gazed through the bulging lensof the other end. I could see almost the whole hall. 

"That, " he explained, "is what is known as a fish-eye lens--a lensthat looks through an angle of some 180 degrees, almost twice thatof the widest angle lens I know of. "

I said nothing, but tossed my own crude invention into the corner, while Craig went back to work. 

Elaine was playing with "Rusty" when Jennings brought in a card onwhich was engraved the name, "Miss Mary Carson, " and underneath, in pencil, was written "Belgian Relief Committee. "

"How interesting, " commented Elaine, rising and accompanyingJennings back into the drawing room. "I wonder what she wants. Very pleased to meet you, Miss Carson, " she greeted her visitor. 

"You see, Miss Dodge, " began Mary, "we're getting up this movementto help the Belgians and we have splendid backing. Just let meshow you some of the names on our committee. "

She handed Elaine a list which read:

BELGIAN RELIEF COMMITTEE

Mrs. Warburton Fish Mrs. Hamilton Beekman Mrs. C. August IselmMrs. Belmont Rivington Mrs. Rupert Solvay. 

"I've just been sent to see if I cannot persuade you to join thecommittee and attend a meeting at Mrs. Rivington's, " she went on. 

"Why, er, " considered Elaine thoughtfully, "er--yes. It must beall right with such people in it. "

"Can you go with me now?"

"Just as well as later, " agreed Elaine. 

They went out together, and, as they were leaving the house a manwho had been loitering outside looked at Elaine, then fixedly ather companion. 

No sooner had they gone than he sped off to a car waiting aroundthe corner. In the dark depths was a sinister figure, the mastercriminal himself. The watcher had been an emissary of theClutching Hand. 

"Chief, " he whispered eagerly, "You know Adventuress Mary? Well, she's got Elaine Dodge in tow!"

"The deuce!" cried Clutching Hand. "Then we must teach MaryCarson, or whoever she is working for, a lesson. No one shallinterfere with our affairs. Follow them!"

Elaine and Mary had gone downtown, talking animatedly, and walkeddown the avenue toward Mrs. Rivington's apartment. 

Meanwhile, Long Sin, still in his Chinese costume, was explainingto the servant just what he wished done, pointing out the daggeron the wall and replacing the bladder under his jacket. A box ofopium was on the table, and he was giving most explicitdirections. It was into such a web that Elaine was beingunwittingly led by Mary. 

Entering the hallway of the apartment, Mary rang the bell. 

Long heard it. "Answer it, " he directed the servant who hastenedto do so, while Long glided like a serpent into a back room. 

The servant opened the door and Elaine and Mary entered. He closedthe door and almost before they knew locked it and was gone intothe back room. 

Elaine gazed about in trepidation. But before she could sayanything, Mary, with a great show of surprise, exclaimed, "Why, Imust have made a mistake. This isn't Mrs. Rivington's apartment. How stupid of me. "

They looked at each other a moment. Then each laughed nervously, as together they started to go out of the door. It was locked!

Quickly they ran to another door. It was locked, also. 

Then they went to the windows. Behind the curtains they werebarred and looked out on a blank brick wall in a little court. 

"Oh, " cried Mary wringing her hands, stricken in mock panic, "oh, I'm so frightened. This may be the den of Chinese white slavers!"

She had picked up some Chinese articles on a table, including thebox that Long had left there. It had a peculiar odor. 

"Opium!" she whispered, showing it to Elaine. 

The two looked at each other, Elaine genuinely worried now. 

Just then, the Chinaman entered and stood a moment gazing at them. They turned and Elaine recoiled from him. Long bowed. 

"Oh sir, " cried Mary, "We've made a mistake. Can't you tell us howto get out?"

Long's only answer was to spread out his hands in politedeprecation and shrug his suave shoulders. 

"No speke Englis, " he said, gliding out again from the room andclosing the door. 

Elaine and Mary looked about in despair. 

"What shall we do?" asked Elaine. 

Mary said nothing, but with a hasty glance discovered on the wallthe knife which Long had already told her about. She took it fromits scabbard. As she did so the Chinaman returned with a tray onwhich were queer drinks and glasses. 

At the sight of Mary with the knife he scowled blackly, laid thetray down, and took a few steps in her direction. She brandishedthe knife threateningly, then, as if her nerve failed her, faintedletting the knife fall carefully on the floor so that it struck onthe handle and not on the blade. 

Long quickly caught her as she fainted and carried her out of theroom, banging shut the door. Elaine followed in a moment, loyally, to protect her supposed friend, but found that the door had a snaplock on the other side. 

She looked about wildly and in a moment Long reappeared. As headvanced slowly and insinuatingly, she drew back, pleading. Buther words fell on seemingly deaf ears. 

She had picked up the knife which Mary had dropped and when atlast Long maneuvred to get her cornered and was about to seizeher, she nerved herself up and stabbed him resolutely. 

Long staggered back--and fell. 

As he did so, he pressed the bladder which he had already placedunder his coat. A dark red fluid, like blood, oozed out all overhim and ran in a pool on the floor. 

Elaine, too horror-stricken at what had happened even to scream, dropped the knife and bent over him. He did not move. Shestaggered back and ran through the now open door. As she did so, Long seemed suddenly to come to life. He raised himself and lookedafter her, then with a subtle smile sank back into his formerassumed posture on the floor. 

When Elaine reached the other room, she found Mary there with theChinese servant who was giving her a glass of water. At the sightof her, the servant paused, then withdrew into another roomfurther back. Mary, now apparently recovering from her faintness, smiled wanly at Elaine. 

"It's all right, " she murmured. "He is a Chinese prince whothought we were callers. "

At the reassuring nod of Mary toward the front room, Elaine wasovercome. 

"I--I killed him!" she managed to gasp. 

"What?" cried Mary, starting up and trembling violently. "Youkilled him?"

"Yes, " sobbed Elaine, "he came at me--I had the knife--I struck athim--"

The two girls ran into the other room. There Mary looked at themotionless body on the floor and recoiled, horrified. 

Elaine noticing some spots on her hands and seeing that they werestained by the blood of Long Sin, wiped the spots off on herhankerchief, dropping it on the floor. 

"Ugh!" exclaimed a guttural voice behind them. 

It was the servant who had come in. Even his ordinarily impassiveOriental face could not conceal the horror and fear at the sightof his master lying on the floor in a pool of gore. Elaine was nowmore frightened than ever, if that were possible. 

"You--kill him--with knife?" insinuated the Chinese. 

Elaine was dumb. The servant did not wait for an answer, buthastily opened the hall door. 

To Elaine it seemed that something must be done quickly. A momentand all the house would be in uproar. 

Instead, he placed his finger on his lips. "Quick--no word, " hesaid, leading the way to the hall door, "and--you must not leavethat--it will be a clue, " he added, picking up the bloodyhandkerchief and pressing it into Elaine's hand. 

They quickly ran out into the hall. 

"Go--quick!" he urged again, "and hide the handkerchief in thebag. Let no one see it!"

He shut the door. As they hurried away, Elaine breathed a sigh ofrelief. 

"Why did he let us go, though?" she whispered, her head in awhirl. 

"I don't know, " panted Mary, "but anyhow, thank heaven, we are outof it. Come, " she added, taking Elaine's arm, "not a soul has seenus except the servant. Let us get away as quietly as we can. "

They had reached the street. Afraid to run, they hurried as fastas they could until they turned the first corner. 

Elaine looked back. No one was pursuing. 

"We must separate, " added Mary. "Let us go different ways. I willsee you later. Perhaps they will think some enemy has murderedhim. "

They pressed each other's hands and parted. 

Meanwhile in the front room, Long Sin was on his feet againbrushing himself off and mopping up the blood. 

"It worked very well, Sam, " he said to the servant. 

They were conversing eagerly and laughing and did not hear a noisein the back room. 

A sinister figure had made its way by means of a fire-escape to arear window that was not barred, and silently he had stolen in onthem. 

Cat-like, he advanced, but instead of striking at them, he quietlytook a seat in a chair close behind them, a magazine revolver inhis hand. 

They turned at a slight noise and saw him. Genuine fright was nowon their faces as they looked at him, open mouthed. 

"What's all this?" he growled. "I am known as the Clutching Hand. I allow no interferences with my affairs. Tell me what you aredoing here with Elaine Dodge. "

Their beady almond eyes flashed fear. Clutching Hand movedmenacingly. There was nothing for the astute Long Sin to do but tosubmit. Cowed by the well-known power of the master criminal, hetook Clutching Hand into his confidence. 

With a low bow, Long Sin spread out his hands in surrender andsubmission. 

"I will tell you, honorable sir, " he said at length. 

"Go on!" growled the criminal. 

Quickly Long rehearsed what had happened, from the moment the ideaof blackmail had entered his head. 

"How about Mary Carson?" asked Clutching Hand. "I saw her here. "

Long gave a glance of almost superstitious dread at the man, as ifhe had an evil eye. 

"She will be back--is here now, " he added, opening the door at aknock and admitting her. 

Adventuress Mary had hurried back to see that all was right. Thistime Mary was genuinely scared at the forbidding figure of whichshe had heard. 

"It is all right, " pacified Long. "Henceforth we work with thehonorable Clutching Hand. "

Clutching Hand continued to emphasize his demands on them, punctuating his sentences by flourishes of the gun as he gave themthe signs and passwords which would enable them to work with hisown emissaries. 

It was a strange initiation. 

At home at last, Elaine sank down into a deep library chair andstared straight ahead. She saw visions of arrest and trial, of theterrible electric chair with herself in it, bound, and of thegiving of the fatal signal for turning on the current. 

Were such things as these going to happen to her, withoutKennedy's help? Why had they quarreled? She buried her face in herhands and wept. 

Then she could stand it no longer. She had not taken off herstreet clothes. She rose and almost fled from the house. 

Kennedy and I were still in the laboratory when a knock sounded atthe door. I went to the door and opened it. There stood ElaineDodge. 

It was a complete surprise to Craig. There was silence betweenthem for a moment and they merely looked at each other. Elaine waspale and woebegone. 

At last Kennedy took a quick step toward her and led her to achair. Still he felt a sort of constraint. 

"What IS the matter?" he asked at length. 

She hesitated, then suddenly burst out, "Craig--I--I am--amurderess!"

I have never seen such a look on Craig's face. I know he wanted tolaugh and say, "YOU--a murderess?" yet he would not have offendedeven her self accusation for the world. He managed to do the rightthing and say nothing. 

Then she poured forth the story substantially as I have set itdown, but without the explanation which at that time was not knownto any of us. 

"Oh, " expostulated Craig, "there must be some mistake. It'simpossible--impossible. "

"No, " she asserted. "Look--here's my handkerchief all spotted withblood. "

She opened the bag and displayed the blood-spotted handkerchief. He took it and examined it carefully. 

"Elaine, " he said earnestly, not at all displeased, I could seethat something had come up that might blot out the pastunfortunate misunderstanding, "there simply must be somethingwrong here. Leave this handkerchief with me. I'll do my best. "

There was still a little restraint between them. She was almostready to beg his pardon, for all the coolness there had beenbetween them, yet still hesitated. 

"Thank you, " she said simply as she left the laboratory. 

Craig went to work abruptly without a word. On the laboratorytable he placed his splendid microscope and several cases ofslides as well as innumerable micro-photographs. He had beenworking for some time when he looked up. 

"Ever hear of Dr. Edward Reichert of the University ofPennsylvania and his wonderful discoveries of how blood crystalsvary in different species?" he asked. 

I had not, but did not admit it. 

"Well, " he went on, "there is a blood test so delicate that onemight almost say that he could identify a criminal by the fingerprints, so to speak, of his blood crystals. The hemoglobin or redcoloring matter forms crystals and the variations of thesecrystals both in form and molecular construction are such thatthey set apart every species of animal from every other, and eventhe races of men--perhaps may even set apart individuals. Here, Walter, we have sample of human blood crystals. "

I looked through the microscope as he directed. There I could seethe crystals sharply defined. 

"And here, " he added, "are the crystals of the blood on Elaine'shandkerchief. "

I looked again as he changed the slides. There was a markeddifference and I looked up at him quickly. 

"It is dog's blood--not human blood, " he said simply. 

I looked again at the two sets of slides. There could be no doubtthat there was a plain difference. 

"Wonderful!" I exclaimed. 

"Yes--wonderful, " he agreed, "but what's the game back of allthis--that's the main question now. "

Long after Clutching Hand had left, Long Sin was givinginstructions to his servant and Adventuress Mary just how he hadhad to change his plans as a result of the unexpected visit. 

"Very well, " nodded Mary as she left him, "I will do as you say--trust me. "

It was not much later, then, that Elaine received a second visitfrom Mary. 

"Show her in, Jennings, " she said to the butler nervously. 

Indeed, she felt that every eye must be upon her. Even Jenningswould know of her guilt soon. 

Anxiously, therefore, Elaine looked at her visitor. 

"Do you know why the servant allowed us to leave the apartment?"whispered Mary with a glance about fearfully, as if the walls hadears. 

"No--why?" inquired Elaine anxiously. 

"He's a tong man who has been chosen to do away with the Prince. He followed me, and says you have done his work for him. If youwill give him ten thousand dollars for expenses, he will attend tohiding the body. "

Here at least was a way out. 

"But do you think that is all right? Can he do it?" asked Elaineeagerly. 

"Do it? Why those tong men can do anything for money. Only onemust be careful not to offend them. "

Mary was very convincing. 

"Yes, I suppose you are right, " agreed Elaine, finally. "I hadbetter do as you say. It is the safest way out of the trouble. Yes, I'll do it. I'll stop at the bank now and get the money. "

They rose and Mary preceded her, eager to get away from the house. At the door, however, Elaine asked her to wait while she ran backon some pretext. In the library she took off the receiver of thetelephone and quickly called a number. 

Our telephone rang in the middle of our conversation on bloodcrystals and Kennedy himself answered it. 

It was Elaine asking Craig's advice. 

"They have offered to hush the thing up for ten thousand dollars, "she said, in a muffled voice. 

She seemed bent on doing it and no amount of argument from himcould stop her. She simply refused to accept the evidence of theblood crystals as better than what her own eyes told her she hadseen and done. 

"Then wait for half an hour, " he answered, without arguingfurther. "You can do that without exciting suspicion. Go with herto her hotel and hand her over the money. "

"All right--I'll do it, " she agreed. 

"What is the hotel?"

Craig wrote on a slip of paper what she told him--"Room 509, HotelLa Coste. "

"Good--I'm glad you called me. Count on me, " he finished as hehung up the receiver. 

Hastily he threw on his street coat. "Go into the back room andget me that brace and bit, Walter, " he asked. 

I did so. When I returned, I saw that he had placed thedetectascope and some other stuff in a bag. He shoved in the braceand bit also. 

"Come on--hurry!" he urged. 

We must have made record time in getting to the Coste. It was anornate place, where merely to breathe was expensive. We enteredand by some excuse Kennedy contrived to get past the vigilantbellhops. We passed the telephone switchboard and entered theelevator, getting off at the fifth floor. 

With a hasty glance up and down the corridor, to make sure no onewas about, Kennedy came to room 509, then passed to the next, 511, opening the door with a skeleton key. We entered and Craig lockedthe door behind us. It was an ordinary hotel room, but well-furnished. Fortunately it was unoccupied. 

Quietly Craig went to the door which led to the next room. It was, of course, locked also. He listened a moment carefully. Not asound. Quickly, with an exclamation of satisfaction, he openedthat door also and went into 509. 

This room was much like that in which we had already been. Heopened the hall door. 

"Watch here, Walter, " he directed, "Let me know at the slightestalarm. "

Craig had already taken the brace and bit from the bag and startedto bore through the wall into room 511, selecting a spot behind apicture of a Spanish dancer--a spot directly back of her snappingblack eyes. He finished quickly and inserted the detectascope sothat the lens fitted as an eye in the picture. The eye piece wasin Room 511. Then he started to brush up the pieces of plaster onthe floor. 

"Craig, " I whispered hastily as I heard an elevator door, "someone's coming!"

He hurried to the door and looked. "There they are, " he said, aswe saw Elaine and Mary rounding the corner of the hall. 

Across the hall, although we did not know it at the time, in room540, already, Long Sin had taken up his station, just to be handy. There he had been with his servant, playing with his two trainedwhite rats. 

Long placed them up his capacious sleeves and carefully opened thedoor to look out. Unfortunately he, was just in time to see thedoor of 509 open and disclose us. 

His subtle glance detected our presence without our knowing it. 

Hastily picking up the brace and bit and the rest of the debris, and with a last look at the detectascope, which was hardlynoticeable, even if one already knew it was there, we hurried into511 and shut the door. 

Kennedy mounted a chair and applied his eye to the detectascope. Just then Mary and Elaine entered the next room, Mary opening thedoor with a regular key. 

"Won't you step in?" she asked. 

Elaine did so and Mary hesitated in the hall. Long Sin had slippedout on noiseless feet and taken refuge behind some curtains. As hesaw her alone, he beckoned to Mary. 

"There's a stranger in the next room, " he whispered. "I don't likehim. Take the money and as quickly as possible get out and go tomy apartment. "

At the news that there was a suspicious stranger about, Maryshowed great alarm. Everything was so rapid, now, that theslightest hesitation meant disaster. Perhaps, by quickness, even asuspicious stranger could be fooled, she reasoned. At any rate, Long Sin was resourceful. She had better trust him. 

Mary followed Elaine into the room, where she had seated herselfalready, and locked the door. 

"Have you the money there?" she asked. 

"Yes, " nodded Elaine, taking out the package of bills which shehad got from the bank during the half hour delay. 

All this we could see by gazing alternately through thedetectascope. 

Elaine handed Mary the money. Mary counted it slowly. At last shelooked up. 

"It's all right, " she said. "Now, I'll take this to that tongleader--he's in a room only just across the hall. "

She went out. 

Kennedy at the detectascope was very excited as this went on. Henow jumped off the chair on which he had been standing and rushedto the door to head her off. 

To our surprise, in spite of the fact that we could turn the keyin the lock, it was impossible to open it!

It was only a moment that Craig paused at the door. The nextmoment he burst into 509, followed closely by me. 

With a scream, Elaine was on her feet in an instant. 

There was no time for explanations, however. 

He rushed to the door to go out, but it was locked--somehow, onthe outside. The skeleton key would not work, at any rate. 

He shot the lock, and dashed out, calling back, "Walter, staythere--with Elaine. "

Mary had just succeeded in getting on the elevator as Kennedyhurried down the hall. The door was closed and the car descended. He rang the push bell furiously, but there was no answer. 

Had he got so far in the chase, only to be outwitted?

He dashed back to the room, with us, and jerked down the telephonereceiver. 

"Hello--hello--hello!" he called. 

No answer. 

There seemed to be no way to get a connection. What was thematter?

He hurried down the hall again. 

No sooner had Elaine and Mary actually gone into the room, thanLong and his servant stole out of 540, across the hall. Somewherethey had obtained a strong but thin rope. 

Quickly and silently Long tied the handle of the door 511 in whichwe were to the handle of 540 which he was vacating. As both doorsopened inward and were opposite, they were virtually locked. 

Then Long and his servant hurried down the hallway to theelevator. 

Down in the hotel lobby, with his followers, the Chinaman pausedbefore the telephone switchboard where two girls were at work. 

"You may go, " ordered Long, and, as his man left, he moved overcloser to the switchboard. 

He was listening eagerly and also watching an indicator that toldthe numbers of the rooms which called, as they flashed into view. 

Just as a call from "509" flashed up, Long slipped the rings offhis little fingers and loosened the white rats on the telephoneswitchboard itself. 

With a shriek, the telephone system of the Coste went temporarilyout of business. 

The operators fled to the nearest chairs, drawing their skirtsabout them. 

There was the greatest excitement among all the women in thecorridor. Such a display of hosiery was never contemplated by eventhe most daring costumers. 

Shouts from the bellboys who sought to catch the rats whoscampered hither and thither in frightened abandon mingled withthe shrieks of the ladies. 

Kennedy had succeeded in finding the alcove of the floor clerk incharge of the fifth floor. There on his desk was an instrumenthaving a stylus on the end of two arms, connected to a system ofmagnets. It was a telautograph. 

Unceremoniously, Craig pushed the clerk out of his seat and satdown himself. It was a last chance, now that the telephone was outof commission. 

Downstairs, in the hotel office, where the excitement had notspread to everyone, was the other end of the electric longdistance writer. 

It started to write, as Kennedy wrote, upstairs:

"HOUSE DETECTIVE--QUICK--HOLD WOMAN WITH BLUE CHATELAINE BAG, GETTING OUT OF ELEVATOR. "

The clerks downstairs saw it and shouted above the din of the rat-baiting. 

"McCann--McCann!"

The clerk had torn off the message from the telautograph register, and handed it to the house man who pushed his way to the desk. 

Quickly the detective called to the bell-hops. Together theyhurried after the well-dressed woman who had just swept out of theelevator. Mary had already passed through the excited lobby andout, and was about to cross the street--safe. 

McCann and the bell-hops were now in full cry after her. Flightwas useless. She took refuge in indignation and threats. 

But McCann was obdurate. She passed quickly to tears andpleadings. It had no effect. They insisted on leading her back. The game was up. 

Even an offer of money failed to move their adamantine hearts. Nothing would do but that she must face her accusers. 

In the meantime Long Sin had recovered his precious and usefulpets. Life in the Coste had assumed something of its normalaspect, and Craig had succeeded in getting an elevator. 

It was just as Mary was led in threatening and pleading by turnsthat he stepped off in the lobby. 

There was, however, still just enough excitement to cover a littlepantomime. Long Sin had been about to slip out of a side door, thinking all was well, when he caught sight of Mary being ledback. She had also seen him, and began to struggle again. 

Quickly he shook his head, indicating for her to stop. Then slowlyhe secretly made the sign of the Clutching Hand at her. It meantthat she must not snitch. 

She obeyed instantly, and he quietly disappeared. 

"Here, " cried Kennedy, "take her up in the elevator. I'll provethe case. "

With the house detective and Kennedy, Mary was hustled into theelevator and whisked back as she had escaped. 

In the meantime I had gathered up what stuff we had in the room wehad entered and had returned with Kennedy's bag. 

"Wh--what's it all about?" inquired Elaine excitedly. 

I tried to explain. 

Just then, out in the hall we could hear loud voices, and that ofMary above the rest. Kennedy, a man who looked like a detective, and some bell-boys were leading her toward us. 

"Now--not a word of who she is in the papers, McCann, " Kennedy wassaying, evidently about Elaine. "You know it wouldn't sound wellfor La Coste. As for that woman--well, I've got the money back. You can take her off--make the charge. "

As the house man left with Mary, I handed Craig his bag. We movedtoward the door, and as we stood there a moment with Elaine, hequietly handed over to her the big roll of bills. 

She took it, with surprise still written in her big blue eyes. "Oh--thank you--I might have known it was only a blackmailscheme, " she cried eagerly. 

Craig held out his hand and she took it quickly, gazing into hiseyes. Craig bowed politely, not quite knowing what to do under thecircumstances. 

If he had been less of a scientist, he might have understood thelook on her face, but, with a nod to me, he turned, and went. 

As she looked first at him, then at the paltry ten thousand in herhand, Elaine stamped her little foot in vexation. 

"I'm glad I DIDN'T say anything more, " she cried. "No--no--heshall beg my pardon first--there!"

CHAPTER XIII

THE DEVIL WORSHIPPERS

Elaine was seated in the drawing room with Aunt Josephine oneafternoon, when her lawyer, Perry Bennett, dropped inunexpectedly. 

He had hardly greeted them when the butler, Jennings, in his usualimpassive manner announced that Aunt Josephine was wanted on thetelephone. 

No sooner were Elaine and Bennett alone, than Elaine, turning tohim, exclaimed impulsively, "I'm so glad you have come. I havebeen longing to see you and to tell you about a strange dream Ihave had. "

"What was it?" he asked, with instant interest. 

Leaning back in her chair and gazing before her tremulously, Elaine continued, "Last night, I dreamed that father came to meand told me that if I would give up Kennedy and put my trust inyou, I would find the Clutching Hand. I don't know what to thinkof it. "

Bennett, who had been listening intently, remained silent for afew moments. Then, putting down his tea cup, he moved over nearerto Elaine and bent over her. 

"Elaine, " he said in a low tone, his remarkable eyes lookingstraight into her own, "you must know that I love you. Then giveme the right to protect you. It was your father's dearest wish, Ibelieve, that we should marry. Let me share your dangers and Iswear that sooner or later there will be an end to the ClutchingHand. Give me your answer, Elaine, " he urged, "and make me thehappiest man in all the world. "

Elaine listened, and not unsympathetically, as Bennett continuedto plead for her answer. 

"Wait a little while--until to-morrow, " she replied finally, as ifovercome by the recollections of her weird dream and theunexpected sequel of his proposal. 

"Let it be as you wish, then, " agreed Bennett quietly. 

He took her hand and kissed it passionately. 

An instant later Aunt Josephine returned. Elaine, unstrung by whathad happened, excused herself and went into the library. 

She sank into one of the capacious arm chairs, and passing herhand wearily over her throbbing forehead, closed her eyes in deepthought. Involuntarily, her mind travelled back over the rapidsuccession of events of the past few weeks and the part that shehad thought, at least, Kennedy had come to play in her life. 

Then she thought of their recent misunderstanding. Might there notbe some simple explanation of it, after all, which she had missed?What should she do?

She solved the problem by taking up the telephone and asking forKennedy's number. 

I was chatting with Craig in his laboratory, and, at the sametime, was watching him in his experimental work. Just as a callcame on the telephone, he was pouring some nitro-hydrochloric acidinto a test tube to complete a reaction. 

The telephone tinkled and he laid down the bottle of acid on hisdesk, while he moved a few steps to answer the call. 

Whoever the speaker was, Craig seemed deeply interested, and, notknowing who was talking on the wire, I was eager to learn whetherit was anyone connected with the case of the Clutching Hand. 

"Yes, this is Mr. Kennedy, " I heard Craig say. 

I moved over toward him and whispered eagerly, "Is there anythingnew?"

A little impatient at being interrupted, Kennedy waved me off. Itoccurred to me that he might need a pad and pencil to make a noteof some information and I reached over the desk for them. 

As I did so my arm inadvertently struck the bottle of acid, knocking it over on the top of the desk. Its contents streamed outsaturating the telephone wires before I could prevent it. Intrying to right the bottle my hand came in contact with the acidwhich burned like liquid fire, and I cried out in pain. 

Craig hastily laid down the receiver, seized me and rushed me tothe back of the laboratory where he drenched my hand with aneutralizing liquid. 

He bound up the wounds caused by the acid, which proved to beslight, after all, and then returned to the telephone. 

To his evident annoyance, he discovered that the acid had burnedthrough the wires and cut off all connection. 

Though I did not know it, my hand was, in a sense at least, thehand of fate. 

At the other end of the line, Elaine was listening impatiently fora response to her first eager words of inquiry. She was astoundedto find, at last, that Kennedy had apparently left the telephonewithout any explanation or apology. 

"Why--he rang off, " she exclaimed angrily to herself, as she hungup the receiver and left the room. 

She rejoined her Aunt Josephine and Bennett who had been chattingtogether in the drawing room, still wondering at the queer rebuffshe had, seemingly, experienced. 

Bennett rose to go, and, as he parted from Elaine, found anopportunity to whisper a few words reminding her of her promisedreply on the morrow. 

Piqued, at Kennedy, she flashed Bennett a meaning glance whichgave him to understand that his suit was not hopeless. 

In the center of a devious and winding way, quite unknown to allexcept those who knew the innermost secrets of the Chinese quarterand even unknown to the police, there was a dingy tenement house, apparently inhabited by hardworking Chinamen, but in reality theheadquarters of the notorious devil worshippers, a sect ofSatanists, banned even in the Celestial Empire. 

The followers of the cult comprised some of the most dangerousChinese criminals, thugs, and assassins, besides a number ofdangerous characters who belonged to various Chinese secretsocieties. At the head of this formidable organization was LongSin, the high priest of the Devil God, and Long Sin had, as weknew, already joined forces with the notorious Clutching Hand. 

The room in which the uncanny rites of the devil worshippers wereconducted was a large apartment decorated in Chinese style, withhighly colored portraits of some of the devil deities and costlysilken hangings. Beside a large dais depended a huge Chinese gong. 

On the dais itself stood, or rather sat, an ugly looking figurecovered with some sort of metallic plating. It almost seemed to bethe mummy of a Chinaman covered with gold leaf. It was thin andshrunken, entirely nude. 

Into this room came Long Sin attired in an elaborate silken robe. He advanced and kowtowed before the dais with its strange figure, and laid down an offering before it, consisting of punk sticks, little dishes of Chinese cakes, rice, a jar of oil, and somecooked chicken and pork. Then he bowed and kowtowed again. 

This performance was witnessed by twenty or thirty Chinamen whoknelt in the rear of the room. As Long Sin finished his devotionsthey filed past the dais, bowing and scraping with every sign ofabject reverence both for the devil deity and his high priest. 

At the same time an aged Chinaman carrying a prayer wheel enteredthe place and after prostrating himself devoutedly placed themachine on a sort of low stool or tabourette and began turning itslowly, muttering. Each revolution of this curious wheel wassupposed to offer a prayer to the god of the netherworld. 

A few moments later, Long Sin, who had been bowing before themetallic figure in deepest reverence, suddenly sprang to his feet. His glazed eye and excited manner indicated that he had received amessage from the lips of the strange idol. 

The worshippers who had prostrated themselves in awe at the sightof their high priest in the unholy frenzy, all rose to their feetand crowded forward. At the same time Long Sin advanced a step tomeet them, holding his arms outstretched as if to compel silencewhile he delivered his message. 

Long Sin struck several blows on the resounding gong and thenraised his voice in solemn tones. 

"Ksing Chau, the Terrible, demands a consort. She is to beforeign--fair of face and with golden hair. "

Amazed at this unexpected message, the Chinamen prostratedthemselves again and their unhallowed devotions terminated a fewmoments later amid suppressed excitement as they filed out. 

At the same time, in a room of the adjoining house, the ClutchingHand himself was busily engaged making the most elaboratepreparations for some nefarious scheme which his fertile mind hadevolved. 

The room had been fitted up as a medium's seance parlor, withblack hangings on the walls, while at one side there was a squarecabinet of black cloth, with a guitar lying before it. 

Two of the Clutching Hand's most trusted confederates and a hard-faced woman of middle age, dressed in plain black, were puttingthe finishing touches to this apartment, when their Chief entered. 

Clutching Hand gazed about the room, now and then giving an orderor two to make more effective the setting for the purpose which hehad in mind. 

Finally he nodded in approval and stepped over to the fire placewhere logs were burning brightly in a grate. 

Pressing a spring in the mantelpiece, the master criminal effectedan instant transformation. The logs in the fireplace, stillburning, disappeared immediately through the side of the bricktiling and a metal sheet covered them. An aperture opened at theback, as if by magic. 

Through this opening Clutching Hand made his way quickly anddisappeared. 

Emerging on the other side of the peculiar fireplace, ClutchingHand pushed aside a curtain which barred the way and looked intothe Chinese temple, taking up a position behind the metallicfigure on the dais. 

The Chinamen had by this time finished their devotions, if suchthey might be called, and the last one was leaving, while Long Sinstood alone on the dais. 

The noise of the departing Satanists had scarcely died away whenClutching Hand stepped out. 

"Follow me, " he ordered hoarsely seizing Long Sin by the arm andleading him away. 

They passed through the passageway of the fireplace and, havingentered the seance room, Clutching Hand began briefly explainingthe purpose of the preparations that had been made. Long Sinwagged his head in voluble approval. 

As Clutching Hand finished, the Chinaman turned to the hard-facedwoman who was to act the part of medium and added some directionsto those Clutching Hand had already given. 

The medium nodded acquiescence, and a moment later, left the roomto carry out some ingenious plot framed by the master mind of thecriminal world. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Elaine was standing in the library gazing sadly at Kennedy'sportrait, thinking over recent events and above all the rebuffover the telephone which she supposed she had received. 

It all seemed so unreal to her. Surely, she felt in her heart, shecould not have been so mistaken in the man. Yet the facts seemedto speak for themselves. 

In spite of it all, she was almost about to kiss the portrait whensomething seemed to stay her hands. Instead she laid the picturedown, with a sigh. 

A moment later, Jennings entered with a card on a salver. Elainetook it and saw with surprise the name of her caller:

MADAME SAVETSKY, MEDIUM

Beneath the engraved name were the words written in ink, "I have amessage from the spirit of your father. "

"Yes, I will see her, " cried Elaine eagerly, in response to thebutler's inquiry. 

She followed Jennings into the adjoining room and there foundherself face to face with the hard-featured woman who had only afew moments before left the Clutching Hand. 

Elaine looked rather than spoke her inquiry. 

"Your father, my dear, " purred the medium with a great pretence ofsuppressed excitement, "appeared to me, the other night, from thespirit world. I was in a trance and he asked me to deliver amessage to you. "

"What was the message?" asked Elaine breathlessly, now aroused tointense interest. 

"I must go into a trance again to get it, " replied the insinuatingSavetsky, "and if you like I can try it at once, provided we canbe left alone long enough. "

"Please--don't wait, " urged Elaine, pulling the portieres of thedoors closer, as if that might insure privacy. 

Seated in her chair, the medium muttered wildly for a few moments, rolled her eyes and with some convulsive movements pretended to gointo a trance. 

Savetsky seemed about to speak and Elaine, in the highest state ofnervous tension, listened, trying to make something of thegibberish mutterings. 

Suddenly the curtains were pushed aside and Aunt Josephine andBennett, who had just come in, entered. 

"I can do nothing here, " exclaimed Savetsky, starting up andlooking about severely. "You must come to my seance chamber wherewe shall not be interrupted. "

"I will, " cried Elaine, vexed at the intrusion at that moment. "Imust have that message--I must. "

"What's all this, Elaine?" demanded Aunt Josephine. 

Hurriedly, Elaine poured forth to her aunt and Bennett the storyof the medium's visit and the promised message from her father inthe other world. 

Aunt Josephine, who was not one easily to be imposed on, stronglyobjected to Elaine's proposal to accompany Savetsky to the seancechamber, but Elaine would not be denied. She pleaded with heraunt, urging that she be allowed to go. 

"It might be safe for Elaine to go, " Bennett finally suggested toAunt Josephine, "if you and I accompanied her. "

All this time the medium was listening closely to theconversation. Elaine looked at her inquiringly. With a shrug, sheindicated that she had no objection to having Elaine escorted tothe parlor by her friends. 

At last Aunt Josephine, influenced by Elaine's pleadings andBennett's suggestion, gave in and agreed to join in the visit. 

A few moments later, in the Dodge car, Elaine, the medium, and hertwo escorts started for the Chinese quarter. 

 . . . . . . . . 

At the house, the medium opened the door with her key and usheredin her three visitors. 

Long Sin who had been watching for their arrival from the windownow hastily withdrew from the seance room and disappeared behindthe black curtains. 

Entering the room the medium at once prepared for the seance bypulling down the window shades. Then she seated herself in a chairbeside the cabinet, and appeared to fall off slowly into a trance. 

Her strange proceedings were watched with the greatest curiosityby Elaine as well as Aunt Josephine and Bennett, who had takenseats placed at one side of the room. 

The room itself was dimly lighted, and the curtains of the cabinetseemed, in the obscurity, to sway back and forth as if stirred bysome ghostly breeze. 

All of them were now quite on edge with excitement. 

Suddenly an indistinct face was seen to be peering through theblack curtains, as it were. 

The guitar, as if lifted by an invisible hand, left the cabinet, floated about close to the ceiling, and returned again. It waseerie. 

At last a voice, deep, sepulchral, was heard in slow and solemntones. 

"I am Eeko--the spirit of Taylor Dodge. I will give no messageuntil one named Josephine leaves the room. "

No sooner had the words been uttered than the medium came writhingout of her trance. 

"What happened?" she asked, looking at Elaine. 

Elaine reported the spirit's words. 

"We can get nothing if your Aunt stays here, " Savetsky added, insisting that Aunt Josephine must go. "Your father cannot speakwhile she is present. "

Aunt Josephine, annoyed by what she had heard, indignantly refusedto go and was deaf to all Elaine's pleadings. 

"I think it will be all right, " finally acquiesced Bennett, seeinghow bent Elaine was on securing the message. "I'll stay andprotect her. "

Aunt Josephine finally agreed. "Very well, then, " she protested, marching out of the room in a high state of indignation. 

She had scarcely left the house, however, when she began tosuspect that all was not as it ought to be. In fact, the idea hadno sooner occurred to her than she decided to call on Kennedy andshe ordered the chauffeur to take her as quickly as possible tothe laboratory. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Kennedy had not been in the laboratory all the day, after myexperience with the acid and I was impatiently awaiting hisarrival. At last there came a knock at the door and I opened ithurriedly. There was a messenger boy who handed me a note. I toreit open. It was from Kennedy and read, "I shall probably be awayfor two or three days. Call up Elaine and tell her to beware of acertain Madame Savetsky. "

I was still puzzling over the note and was just about to call upElaine when the speaking tube was blown and to my surprise I foundit was Aunt Josephine who had called. 

"Where is Mr. Kennedy?" she asked, greatly agitated. 

"He has gone away for a few days, " I replied blankly. "Is thereanything I can do?"

She was very excited and hastily related what had happened at theparlor of the medium. 

"What was her name?" I asked anxiously. 

"Madame Savetsky, " she replied, to my surprise. 

Astounded, I picked up Craig's note from the desk and handed it toher without a word. She read it with breathless eagerness. 

"Come back there with me, please, " she begged, almost frantic withfear now. "Something terrible may have happened. "

 . . . . . . . . 

Aunt Josephine had hardly left Savetsky when the trance wasresumed and, in a few minutes, there came all sorts ofsupernatural manifestations. The table beside Elaine began to turnand articles on it dropped to the floor. Violent rappings followedin various parts of the room. Both Elaine and Bennett who sattogether in silence were much impressed by the marvellousphenomena--not being able to see, in the darkness, the concealedwires that made them possible. 

Suddenly, from the mysterious shadows of the cabinet, thereappeared the spirit of Long Sin, whose death Elaine still believedshe had caused when Adventuress Mary had lured her to theapartment. 

Elaine was trembling with fear at the apparition. 

As before, a strange voice sounded in the depths of the cabinetand again a message was heard, in low, solemn tones. 

"I am Keka, and I have with me Long Sin. His blood cries forvengeance. "

Elaine was overcome with horror at the words. 

From the cabinet ran a thick stream of red, like blood, from whichshe recoiled, shuddering. 

Then a dim, ghostly figure, apparently that of Long Sin, appeared. The face was horribly distorted. It seemed to breathe the veryodor of the grave. 

With arms outstretched, the figure glided from the cabinet andapproached Elaine. She shrank back further in fright, toohorrified even to scream. 

At the same moment, the medium drew a vapor pistol from her dress, and, as the ghost of Long Sin leaped at Elaine, Savetsky dartedforward and shot a stream of vapor full in Bennett's face. 

Bennett dropped unconscious, the lights in the darkened roomflashed up, and several of the men of the Clutching Hand rushedin. 

Quickly the fireplace was turned on its cleverly constructedhinges, revealing the hidden passage. 

Before any effective resistance could be made, Elaine and Bennettwere hustled through the passage, securely bound, and placed on adivan in a curtained chamber back of the altar of the devilworshippers. 

There they lay when Long Sin, now in his priestly robes, entered. He looked at them a moment. Then he left the room with a sinisterlaugh. 

 . . . . . . . . 

It was at that moment that I, little dreaming of what had beentaking place, arrived with Aunt Josephine at the house of themedium. 

She answered my ring and admitted us. To our surprise, the seanceroom was empty. 

"Where is the young lady who was here?" I asked. 

"Miss Dodge and the gentleman just left a few minutes ago, " themedium explained, as we looked about. 

She seemed eager to satisfy us that Elaine was not there. Apparently there was no excuse for disputing her word, but, as weturned to leave, I happened to notice a torn handkerchief lying onthe floor near the fireplace. It flashed over me that perhaps itmight afford a clue. 

As I passed it, I purposely dropped my soft hat over it and pickedup the hat, securing the handkerchief without attractingSavetsky's attention. 

Aunt Josephine was keen now for returning home to find out whetherElaine was there or not. No sooner had she entered the car anddriven off, than I examined the handkerchief. It was torn, as ifit had been crushed in the hand during a struggle and wrenchedaway. I looked closer. In the corner was the initial, "E. "

That was enough. Without losing another precious moment I hurriedaround to the nearest police station, where I happened to beknown, having had several assignments for the Star in that part ofthe city, and gave an alarm. 

The sergeant detailed several roundsmen, and a man inplainclothes, and together we returned to the house, laying acareful plan to surround it secretly, while the plainclothesmanand I obtained admittance. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Meanwhile, the Chinese devil worshippers had again gathered intheir cursed temple and Long Sin, in his priestly robe, appearedon the dais. 

The worshippers kowtowed reverently to him, while at the backagain stood the aged Chinaman patiently turning his prayer wheel. 

Two braziers, or smoke pots, had been placed on the dais, one ofwhich Long Sin touched with a stick causing it to burst out intodense fumes. 

Standing before them, he chanted in nasal tones, "The whiteconsort of the great Ksing Chau has been found. It is his willthat she now be made his. "

As he finished intoning the message, Long Sin signaled to twoyoung Chinamen to go into the anteroom. A moment later theyreturned with Elaine. 

Frightened though she was, Elaine made no attempt to struggle, even when they had cut her bonds. She was busily engaged inseeking some method of escape. Her eyes travelled ever the placequickly. Apparently, there was no means of exit that was notguarded. Long Sin saw her look, and smiled quietly. 

They had carried her up to the dais, and now Long Sin faced herand sternly ordered her to kowtow to the gruesome metallic figure. 

She refused, but instantly the Chinamen seized her arm and twistedit, until they had compelled her to fall to her knees. 

Having forced her to kowtow, Long Sin turned to the assembleddevil dancers. 

"With magic and rare drugs, " he chanted, "she shall be made topass beyond and her body encased in precious gold shall be theconsort of Ksing Chau--forever and ever. "

He made another sign and several pots and braziers were broughtout and placed on the dais beside Elaine. She was, by this time, completely overcome by the horror of the situation. There wasapparently no escape. 

With callous deviltry, the oriental satanists had made everyarrangement for embalming and preserving the body of Elaine. Potsfilled with sticky black material were slowly heated, amid weirdincantations, while other Chinamen laid out innumerable sheets ofgold leaf. 

At last all seemed to be in readiness to proceed. 

"Hold her, " ordered Long Sin in guttural Chinese to the twoattendants, as he approached her. 

Long Sin held in his hand a small, profusely decorated pot fromwhich smoke was escaping. As he approached he passed thisreceptacle under her nose once, twice, three times. 

Gradually Elaine fell into unconsciousness. 

 . . . . . . . . 

While Elaine was facing death in the power of the devilworshippers, I had reached the house of Savetsky next door withthe police, and the place had been quietly surrounded. 

With the plainclothesman, a daring and intelligent fellow, I wentto the door and rang the bell. 

"What can I do for you?" asked the medium, admitting us. 

"My friend, here, " I parleyed, "is in great business trouble. Canyour controlling spirit give him advice?"

We had managed to gain the interior of the seance room, and Isuppose there was nothing else for her to say, under thecircumstances, but, "Why--yes, --if the conditions are good, thecontrol can probably tell us just what he wants to know. "

Savetsky set to work preparing the room for a seance. As she movedover to the window to pull down the shades, she must have caughtsight of one or two of the policemen who had incautiously exposedthemselves from the hiding places in which I had disposed thembefore we entered. At any rate, Savetsky did not lose a jot of herremarkable composure. 

"I'm sorry, " she remarked merely, "but I'm afraid my control isweak and cannot work today. "

She took a step toward the door, motioning us to leave. Neither ofus paid any attention to that hint, but remained seated as we hadbeen before. 

"Go!" she exclaimed at length, for the first time showing a traceof nervousness. 

Evidently her suspicions had been fully confirmed by our actions. We tried to argue with her to gain time. But it was of no use. 

Almost before I knew what she was doing, she made a dash forsomething in the corner of the room. It was time for open action, and I seized her quickly. 

My detective was on his feet in an instant. 

"I'll take care of her, " he ground out, seizing her wrists in hisvice-like grasp. "You give the signal. "

I rushed to the window, threw up the shade and opened the sash, waving our preconcerted sign, turning again toward the room. 

With a sudden accession of desperate strength, Savetsky broke awayfrom the plainclothesman and again attempted to get at somethingconcealed on the wall. I had turned just in time to fling myselfbetween her and whatever object she had in mind. 

As the detective took her again and twisted her arm until shecried out in pain, I hastily investigated the wall. She hadevidently been attempting to press a button that rang a concealedbell. 

What did it all mean?

 . . . . . . . . 

Elaine, now completely unconscious, was being held by theChinamen, while her arm was smeared with sticky black materialfrom the cauldron by Long Sin. As the high priest of Satan worked, the devil worshippers kowtowed obediently. 

Suddenly the aged Chinaman with the prayer wheel stopped hisincessant, impious turning, and rising, held up his hand as if tocommand attention. 

Amid a general exclamation of wonder, he walked to the dais andmounted it, turning and facing the worshippers. 

"This is nonsense, " he cried in a loud tone. "Why should our greatKsing Chau desire a white devil? I, a great grandfather, demand toknow. "

The effect on the worshippers was electric. They paused in theirobeisance and stared at the speaker, then at their high priest. 

Shaking with rage, Long Sin ordered the intruder off the dais. Butthe aged devotee refused to go. 

"Throw him out, " he ordered his attendants. 

For answer, as the two young Chinamen approached, the old Chinamanthrew them down to the floor with a quick jiu-jitsu movement. Hisstrength seemed miraculous for so aged a man. 

Furious now beyond expression, Long Sin stepped forward himself. He seized the beard and queue of the intruder. To his utteramazement, they came off!

It was Kennedy!

With his automatic drawn, before the astounded devil dancers couldrecover themselves, Craig stood at bay. 

Long Sin leaped behind the big gong. As the Chinamen rushedforward to seize him, Kennedy shot the leader of Long Sin'sattendants and struck down the other with a blow. The rush waschecked for the moment. But the odds were fearful. 

Kennedy seized Elaine's yielding body and, pushing back thecurtains to the anteroom, succeeded in gaining it, and locking thedoor into the main temple. 

Bennett was still lying on the floor tightly bound. With a fewdeft cuts by a Chinese knife which he had picked up, Kennedyreleased him. 

At the same time, Chinamen were trying to batter down the door, Kennedy's last bulwark. It was swaying under their repeated blows. 

Kennedy rushed to the door and fired through it at random to checkthe attack for a few moments. 

 . . . . . . . . 

While Kennedy was thus besieged by the devil worshippers in theanteroom, several policemen and detectives gathered in the seanceroom with us, next door, where Savetsky was held a defiant andmute prisoner. 

I had discovered the bell, and, taking that as a guide, I startedto trace the course of a wire which ran alongside the wall, feeling certain that it would give me a clue to some adjoiningroom to which Elaine might possibly have been taken. 

To the fireplace I traced the bell, and, in pulling on the wire, Iluckily pressed a secret spring. To my amazement, the wholefireplace swung out of sight and disclosed a secret passageway. 

I looked through it. 

It was almost at that precise instant that the door of theanteroom burst open and the Chinamen swarmed in, urged on by theinsane exhortations of Long Sin. 

To my utter amazement, I recognized Kennedy's voice. 

In the first onslaught, Craig shot one Chinaman dead, then closedwith the others, slashing right and left with the Chinese knife hehad picked up. 

Bennett came to his aid, but was immediately overcome by twoChinamen, who evidently had been detailed for that purpose. 

Meanwhile, Kennedy and the others were engaged in a terrible lifeand death struggle. They fought all over the room, dismantling it, and even tearing the hangings from the wall. 

It was just as the Chinese was about to overpower him that I ledthe police and detectives through the passageway of the fireplace. 

It was a glorious fight that followed. Long Sin and his Chinamenwere no match for the police and were soon completely routed, thepolice striking furiously in all directions and clearing the room. 

Instantly, Kennedy thought of the fair object of all this melee. He rushed to the divan on which he had placed Elaine. 

She was slowly returning to consciousness. 

As she opened her eyes, for an instant, she gazed at Craig, thenat Bennett. Still not comprehending just what had happened, shegave her hand to Bennett. Bennett lifted her to her feet andslowly assisted her as she tried to walk away. 

Kennedy watched them, more stupefied than if he had been struckover the head by Long Sin. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Police and detectives were now taking the captured Chinamen away, as Bennett, his arm about Elaine, led her gently out. 

A young detective had slipped the bracelets over Long Sin's wrist, and I was standing beside him. 

Kennedy, in a daze at the sight of Elaine and Bennett, passed us, scarcely noticing who we were. 

As Craig collected his scattered forces, Long Sin motioned to him, as if he had a message to deliver. 

Kennedy frowned suspiciously. He was about to turn away, when theChinaman began pleading earnestly for a chance to say a few words. 

"Step aside for a moment, you fellows, won't you please, " Craigasked. "I will hear what you have to say, Long Sin. "

Long Sin looked about craftily. 

"What is it?" prompted Craig, seeing that at last they were allalone. 

Long Sin again looked around. 

"Swear that I will go free and not suffer, " Long Sin whispered, "and I will betray the great Clutching Hand. "

Kennedy studied the Chinaman keenly for a moment. Then, seeminglysatisfied with the scrutiny, he nodded slowly assent. 

As Craig did so, I saw Long Sin lean over and whisper intoKennedy's ear. 

Craig started back in horror and surprise. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE RECKONING

Pacing up and down his den in the heart of Chinatown, Long Sin wasthinking over his bargain with Kennedy to betray the infamousClutching Hand. 

It was a small room in a small and unpretentious house, but itadequately expressed the character of the subtle Oriental. The denwas lavishly furnished, while the guileful Long Sin himself wore arichly figured lounging gown of the finest and costliest silk, chosen for the express purpose of harmonizing with the luxuriousFar Eastern hangings and furniture so as to impress his followersand those whom he might choose as visitors. 

At length he seated himself at a teakwood table, stilldeliberating over the promise he had been forced to make toKennedy. He sat for some moments, deeply absorbed in thought. 

Suddenly an idea seemed to strike him. Lifting a little hammer, hestruck a Chinese gong on the table at his side. At the same time, he leaned over and turned a knob at the side of a large roll-topdesk. 

A few seconds later a sort of hatchway, covered by a rug on thefloor, in one corner of the room, was slowly lifted and Long Sin'ssecretary, a sallow, cadaverous Chinaman, appeared from below. Hestepped noiselessly into the room and shuffled across to Long Sin. 

Long Sin scowled, as though something had interfered with his ownplans, but tore open the envelope without a word, spreading out onhis lap the sheet of paper it contained. 

The letter bore a typewritten message, all in capitals, whichread:

"BE AT HEADQUARTERS AT 12. DESTROY THIS IMMEDIATELY. "

At the bottom of the note appeared the sinister signature of theClutching Hand. 

As soon as he had finished reading the note, the Chinaman turnedto his obsequious secretary, who stood motionless, with foldedarms and head meekly bent. 

"Very well, " he said with an imperious wave of his hand. "You maygo. "

Bowing low again, the secretary shuffled across and down againthrough the hatchway, closing the door as he descended. 

Long Sin read the note once more, while his inscrutable faceassumed an expression of malicious cunning. Then he glanced at hisheavy gold watch. 

With an air of deliberation, he reached for a match and struck it. He had just placed the paper in the flame when suddenly he seemedto change his mind. He hastily blew out the match which haddestroyed only a corner of the paper, then folded the notecarefully and placed it in his pocket. 

A few moments later, with a malignant chuckle, Long Sin roseslowly and left the room. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Meanwhile, the master criminal was busily engaged in putting thefinishing touches to a final scheme of fiendish ingenuity for theabsolute destruction of Craig Kennedy. 

He had been at work in a small room, fitted up as a sort oflaboratory, in the mysterious house which now served as hisheadquarters. 

On all sides were shelves filled with bottles of deadly liquidsand scientific apparatus for crime. Jars of picric acid, nitricacid, carboys of other chemicals, packages labelled gunpowder, guncotton and nitroglycerine, as well as carefully stoppered bottlesof prussic acid, and the cyanides, arsenic and other poisons madethe place bear the look of a veritable devil's workshop. 

Clutching Hand, at a bench in one corner, had just completed aninfernal machine of diabolical cunning, and was wrapping itcarefully in paper to make an innocent package. 

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Laying down the bomb hewent to answer the summons with a stealthy movement. There stoodLong Sin, who had disguised himself as a Chinese laundryman. 

"On time--good!" growled Clutching Hand surlily as he closed thedoor with equal care. 

No time was wasted in useless formalities. 

"This is a bomb, " he went on, pointing to the package. "Carry itcarefully. On no account let it slip, or you are a dead man. Itmust be in Kennedy's laboratory before night. Understand? Can youarrange it?"

Long Sin looked the dangerous package over, then with an impassivelook, replied, "Have no fear. I can do it. It will be in thelaboratory within an hour. Trust me. "

Long Sin nodded sagely, while Clutching Hand growled his approvalas he opened the door and let out the Chinaman. Long Sin departedas stealthily as he had come, the frightful engine of destructionhugged up carefully under his wide-sleeved coolie shirt. 

For a moment Clutching Hand gave himself up to the exquisitecontemplation of what he had just done, then turned to clean uphis workshop. 

 . . . . . . . . 

In Kennedy's laboratory I was watching Craig make some experimentswith a new X-ray apparatus which had just arrived, occasionallylooking through the fluoroscope when he was examining someunusually interesting object. 

We were oblivious to the passage of time, and only a call over ourspeaking tube diverted our attention. 

I opened the door and a few seconds later Long Sin himselfentered. 

Kennedy looked up inquiringly as the Chinaman approached, holdingout a package which he carried. 

"A bomb, " he said, in the most matter of fact way. "I promised tohave it placed in your laboratory before night. "

The placid air with which the grotesque looking Chinaman impartedthis astounding information was in itself preposterous. Hisactions and words as he laid the package down gingerly on thelaboratory table indicated that he was telling the truth. 

Kennedy and I stared at each other in blank amazement for amoment. Then the humor of the thing struck us both and we laughedoutright. 

Clutching Hand had told him to deliver it--and he had done so!

Hastily I filled a pail with water and brought it to Kennedy. 

"If it is really a bomb, " I remarked, "why not put the thing outof commission?"

"No, no, Walter, " he cried quickly, shaking his head. "If it's achemical bomb, the water might be just the thing to make thechemicals run together and set it off. No, let us see what the newX-ray machine can tell us, first. "

He took the bomb and carefully placed it under the wonderful rays, then with the fluoroscope over his eyes studied the shadow cast bythe rays on its sensitive screen. For several minutes he continuedsafely studying it from every angle, until he thoroughlyunderstood it. 

"It's a bomb, sure enough, " Craig exclaimed, looking up from it atlast to me. "It's timed by an ingenious and noiseless little pieceof clockwork, in there, too. And it's powerful enough to blow usall, the laboratory included, to kingdom come. "

As he spoke, and before I could remonstrate with him, he took theinfernal machine and placed it on a table where he set to work onthe most delicate and dangerous piece of dissection of which Ihave ever heard. 

Carefully unwrapping the bomb and unscrewing one part while heheld another firm, he finally took out of it a bottle of liquidand some powder. Then he placed a few grains of the powder on adish and dropped on it a drop or two of the liquid. There was abright flash, as the powder ignited instantly. 

"Just what I expected, " commented Kennedy with a nod, as heexamined the clever workmanship of the bomb. 

One thing that interested him was that part of the contents hadbeen wrapped in paper to keep them in place. This paper he was nowcarefully examining with a hand lens. 

As nearly as I could make it out, the paper contained part of atypewritten chemical formula, which read:

TINCTURE OF IODINE

THREE PARTS OF---

He looked up from his study of the microscope to Long Sin. 

"Tell me just how it happened that you got this bomb, " he asked. 

Without hesitation, the Chinaman recited the circumstances, beginning with the note by which he had been summoned. 

"A note?" repeated Kennedy, eagerly. "Was it typewritten?"

Long Sin reached into his pocket and produced the note itself, which he had not burned. 

As Craig studied the typewritten message from the Clutching Hand Icould see that he was growing more and more excited. 

"At last he has given us something typewritten, " he exclaimed. "Tomost people, I suppose, it seems that typewriting is the best wayto conceal identity. But there are a thousand and one ways ofidentifying typewriting. Clutching Hand knew that. That was why hewas so careful to order this note destroyed. As for the bomb, hefigured that it would destroy itself. "

He was placing one piece of typewriting after another under thelens, scrutinizing each letter closely. 

"Look, Walter, " he remarked at length, taking a fine tipped penciland pointing at the distinguishing marks as he talked, "You willnotice that all the 'T's' in this note are battered and faint aswell as just a trifle out of alignment. Now I will place the paperfrom the bomb under the lens and you will also see that the 'T's'in the scrap of formula have exactly the same appearance. Thatindicated, without the possibility of a doubt, taken in connectionwith a score of other peculiarities in the letters which I couldpick out that both were written on the same typewriter. I haveselected the 'T' because it is the most marked. "

I strained my eyes to look. Sure enough, Kennedy was right. Therewas that unmistakable identity between the T's in the formula andthe note. 

Kennedy had been gazing at the floor, his face puckered in thoughtas I looked. Suddenly he slapped his hands together, as if he hadmade a great discovery. 

"I've struck it!" he exclaimed, jumping up. "I was wondering whereI had seen typewriting that reminds me of this. Walter, get onyour coat and hat. We are on the right trail at last. "

With Long Sin we hurried out of the laboratory, leaving him at thenearest taxicab stand, where we jumped into a waiting car. 

"It is the clue of the battered 'T's, '" Craig muttered. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Aunt Josephine was in the library knitting when the butler, Jennings, announced us. We were admitted at once, for AuntJosephine had never quite understood what was the trouble betweenElaine and Craig, and had a high regard for him. 

"Where is--Miss Dodge?" inquired Kennedy, with suppressedexcitement as we entered. 

"I think she's out shopping and I don't know just when she will beback, " answered Aunt Josephine, with some surprise. "Why? Is itanything important--any news?"

"Very important, " returned Kennedy excitedly. "I think I have thebest clue yet. Only--it will be necessary to look through some ofthe household correspondence immediately to see whether there arecertain letters. I wouldn't be surprised if she had some--perhapsnot very personal--but I MUST see them. "

Aunt Josephine seemed nonplussed at first. I thought she was goingto refuse to allow Craig to proceed. But finally she assented. 

Kennedy lost no time. He went to a desk where Elaine generallysat, and quickly took out several typewritten letters. He examinedthem closely, rejecting one after another, until finally he cameto one that seemed to interest him. 

He separated it from the rest and fell to studying it, comparingit with the paper from the bomb and the note which Long Sin hadreceived from the Clutching Hand. Then he folded the letter sothat both the signature and the address could not be read by us. 

A portion of the letter, I recall, read something like this:

"This is his contention: whereas TRUTH is the only goal and MATTERis non-existent--

"Look at this, Walter, " remarked Craig, with difficultyrestraining himself, "What do you make of it?"

A glance at the typewriting was sufficient to show me that Kennedyhad indeed made an important discovery. The writing of the letterwhich he had just found in Elaine's desk corresponded in everyrespect with that in the Clutching Hand note and that on the bombformula. In each instance there were the same faintness, the samecrooked alignment, the same battered appearance of all the letterT's. 

We stared at each other almost too dazed to speak. 

 . . . . . . . . 

At that moment we were startled by the sudden appearance of Elaineherself, who had come in unexpectedly from her shoppingexpedition. 

She entered the room carrying in her arms a huge bunch of roseswhich she had evidently just received. Her face was half buried inthe fragrant blossoms, but was fairer than even they in theirselected elegance. 

The moment she saw Craig, however, she stopped short with a lookof great surprise. Kennedy, on his part, who was seated at thedesk still tracing out the similarities of the letters, stood up, half hesitating what to say. He bowed and she returned hissalutation with a very cool nod. 

Her keen eye had not missed the fact that several of her letterslay scattered over the top of the desk. 

"What are you doing with my letters, Mr. Kennedy?" she asked, inan astonished tone, evidently resenting the unceremoniousness withwhich he had apparently been overhauling her correspondence. 

As guardedly as possible, Kennedy met her inquiry, which I couldnot myself blame her for making. 

"I beg pardon, Miss Dodge, " he said, "but a matter has just comeup which necessitated merely a cursory examination of some purelyformal letters which might have an important bearing on thediscovery of the Clutching Hand. Your Aunt had no idea where youwere, nor of when you might return, and the absolute necessity forhaste in such an important matter is my only excuse for examininga few minor letters without first obtaining your permission. "

She said nothing. At another time, such an explanation would havebeen instantly accepted. Now, however, it was different. 

Kennedy read the look on her face, and an instant later turned toAunt Josephine and myself. 

"I would very much appreciate a chance to say a few words to MissDodge alone, " he intimated. "I have had no such opportunity forsome time. If you would be so kind as to leave us in the library--for a few minutes--"

He did not finish the sentence. Aunt Josephine had already begunto withdraw and I followed. 

 . . . . . . . . 

For a moment or two, Craig and Elaine looked at each other, neither saying a word, each wondering just what was in the other'smind. Kennedy was wondering if there was any X-ray that might reada woman's heart, as he was accustomed to read others of nature'ssecrets. 

He cleared his throat, the obvious manner of covering up hisemotion. 

"Elaine, " he said at length, dropping the recent return to "MissDodge, " for the moment, "Elaine, is there any truth in thismorning's newspaper report of--of you?"

She had dropped her eyes. But he persisted, taking a newspaperclipping from his pocket and handing it to her. 

Her hand trembled as she glanced over the item:

SOCIETY NOTES

Dame Rumor is connecting the name of Miss Elaine Dodge, theheiress, with that of Perry Bennett, the famous young lawyer. Theannouncement of an engagement between them at any time would notsurprise--

Elaine read no further. She handed back the clipping to Kennedy. As her eyes met his, she noticed his expression of deep concern, and hesitated with the reply she had evidently been just about tomake. 

Still, as she lowered her head, it seemed to give silentconfirmation to the truth of the newspaper report. 

Kennedy said nothing. But his eyes continued to study her face, even when it was averted. 

He suppressed his feelings with a great effort, then, without aword, bowed and left the room. 

"Walter, " he exclaimed as he rejoined us in the drawing room, where I was chatting with Aunt Josephine, "we must be off again. The trail follows still further. "

I rose and much to the increased mystification of Aunt Josephine, left the house. 

 An hour or so later, Elaine, whose mind was now in a whirl fromwhat had happened, decided to call on Perry Bennett. 

Two or three clerks were in the outer office when she arrived, butthe office boy, laying down a dime novel, rose to meet her andinformed her that Mr. Bennett was alone. 

As Elaine entered his private office, Bennett rose to greet hereffusively and they exchanged a few words. 

"I mustn't forget to thank you for those lovely roses you sentme, " she exclaimed at length. "They were beautiful and Iappreciated them ever so much. "

Bennett acknowledged her thanks with a smile, she sat downfamiliarly on his desk, and they plunged into a vein of socialgossip. 

A moment later, Bennett led the conversation around until he foundan opportunity to make a tactful allusion to the report of theirengagement in the morning papers. 

He had leaned over and now attempted to take her hand. Shewithdrew it, however. There was something about his touch which, try as she might, she could not like. Was it mere prejudice, orwas it her keen woman's intuition?

Bennett looked at her a moment, suppressing a momentary flash ofanger that had reddened his face, and controlled himself as if bya superhuman effort. 

"I believe you really love that man Kennedy, " he exclaimed, in atone that was almost a hiss. "But I tell you, Elaine, he is allbluff. Why, he has been after that Clutching Hand now for threemonths--and what has he accomplished? Nothing!"

He paused. Through Elaine's mind there flashed the contrast withKennedy's even temper and deferential manner. In spite of theirquarrel and the coolness, she found herself resenting the remark. Still she said nothing, though her expressive face showed much. 

Bennett, by another effort, seemed to grip his temper again. Hepaced up and down the room. Then he changed the subject abruptly, and the conversation was resumed with some constraint. 

 . . . . . . . . 

While Elaine and Bennett were talking, Kennedy and I had enteredthe office. 

Craig stopped the boy who was about to announce us and asked forBennett's secretary instead, much to my astonishment. 

The boy merely indicated the door of one of the other privateoffices, and we entered. 

We found the secretary, hard at work at the typewriter, copying alegal document. Without a word, Kennedy at once locked the door. 

The secretary rose in surprise, but Craig paid no attention tohim. Instead he calmly walked over to the machine and began toexamine it. 

"Might I ask--" began the secretary. 

"You keep quiet, " ordered Kennedy, with a nod to me to watch thefellow. "You are under arrest--and the less you say, the betterfor you. "

I shall never forget the look that crossed the secretary's face. Was it the surprise of an innocent man?

Taking the man's place at the machine, Kennedy removed the legalpaper that was in it and put in a new sheet. Then he tapped out, as we watched:

BE AT HEADQUARTERS AT 12. DESTROY THIS IMMEDIATELY

TINCTURE OF IODINE

THREE PARTS OF---

This is his contention:--whereas TRUTH is the only goal and MATTERis non-existent--

T T T T

"Look, Walter, " he exclaimed as he drew out the paper from themachine. 

I bent over and together we compared the T's with those in theClutching Hand letter, the paper from the bomb and the letterwhich Craig had taken from Elaine's desk. 

As Craig pointed out the resemblances with a pencil, my amazementgradually changed into comprehension and comprehension intoconviction. The meaning of it all began to dawn on me. 

The writing was identical. There were no differences!

 . . . . . . . . 

While we were locked in the secretary's office, Bennett and Elainewere continuing their chat on various social topics. Suddenly, however, with a glance at the clock, Bennett told Elaine that hehad an important letter to dictate, and that it must go off atonce. 

She said that she would excuse him a few minutes and he pressed abutton to call his secretary. 

Of course the secretary did not appear. Bennett left his office, with some annoyance, and went into the adjoining room the door towhich Kennedy had not locked. 

He hesitated a moment, then opened the door quietly. To hisastonishment, he saw Kennedy, the secretary, and myself apparentlymaking a close examination of the typewriter. 

Gliding rather than walking back into his own office, he closedthe door and locked it. Almost instantly, fear and fury at thepresence of his hated rival, Kennedy, turned Bennett, as it were, from the Jekyll of a polished lawyer and lover of Elaine into aninsanely jealous and revengeful Mr. Hyde. The strain was more thanhis warped mind could bear. 

With a look of intense horror and loathing, Elaine watched himslowly change from the composed, calm, intellectual Bennett sheknew and respected into a repulsive, mad figure of a man. 

His stature even seemed to be altered. He seemed to shrivel up andbecome deformed. His face was terribly distorted. 

And his long, sinewy hand slowly twisted and bent until he becamethe personal embodiment of the Clutching Hand. 

As Elaine, transfixed with terror, watched Bennett's astoundingmetamorphosis, he ran to the door leading to the outer office andhastily locked that, also. 

Then, with his eyes gleaming with rage and his hands working inmurderous frenzy, he crouched, nearer and nearer, towards Elaine. 

She shrank back, screaming again and again in terror. 

He WAS the Clutching Hand!

 . . . . . . . . 

In spite of closed doors, we could now plainly hear Elaine'sshrieks. Craig, the secretary and myself made a rush for the doorto Bennett's private office. Finding it locked, we began to batterit. 

By this time, however, Bennett had hurled himself upon Elaine andwas slowly choking her. 

Kennedy quickly found that it was impossible to batter down thedoor in time by any ordinary means. Quickly he seized thetypewriter and hurled it through the panels. Then he thrust hishand through the opening and turned the catch. 

As we flung ourselves into the room, Bennett rushed into a closetin a corner, slamming the door behind him. It was composed ofsheet iron and effectually prevented anyone from breaking through. Kennedy and I tried vainly, however, to pry it open. 

While we were thus endeavoring to force an entrance, Bennett, in asort of closet, had put on the coat, hat and mask which heinvariably wore in the character of the Clutching Hand. Then hecautiously opened a secret door in the back of the closet andslowly made an exit. 

 . . . . . . . . 

Meanwhile, the secretary had been doing his best to revive Elaine, who was lying in a chair, hysterical and half unconscious from theterrible shock she had experienced. 

Intent on discovering Bennett's whereabouts, Kennedy and Iexamined the wall of the office, thinking there might possibly besome button or secret spring which would open the closet door. 

While we were doing so, the door of a large safe in thesecretary's office gradually opened and the Clutching Hand emergedfrom it, stepping carefully towards the door leading to the outeroffice, intent on escaping in that direction. 

At that moment, I caught sight of him, and leaping into thesecretary's office, I drew my revolver and ordered him to throw uphis hands. He obeyed. Holding up both hands, he slowly drew nearthe door to his private office. 

Suddenly he dropped one hand and pressed a hidden spring in thewall. 

Instantly a heavy iron door shot out and closed over the woodendoor. Entrance to the private office was absolutely cut off. 

With an angry snarl, the Clutching Hand leaped at me. 

As he did so, I fired twice. 

He staggered back. 

 . . . . . . . . 

The shots were heard by Kennedy and Elaine, as well as thesecretary, and at the same instant they discovered the iron doorwhich barred the entrance to the secretary's office. 

Rushing into the outer office, they found the clerks excitedlyattempting to open the door of the secretary's office which waslocked. Kennedy drew a revolver and shot through the lock, bursting open the door. 

They rushed into the room. 

Clutching Hand was apparently seated in a chair at a desk, hisface buried in his arms, while I was apparently disappearingthrough the door. 

Kennedy and the clerks pounced upon the figure in the chair andtore off his mask. To their astonishment, they discovered that itwas myself!

My shots had missed and Clutching Hand had leaped on me withmaddened fury. 

Dressed in my coat and hat, which he had deftly removed afteroverpowering me and substituting his own clothes, Clutching Handhad by this time climbed through the window of the outer officeand was making his way down the fire escape to the street. Hereached the foot of the iron steps leaped off and ran quicklyaway. 

Shouting a few directions to the secretary, the clerks and Elaine, Kennedy climbed through the window and darted down the fire escapein swift pursuit. 

The Clutching Hand, however, managed to elude capture again. Turning the street corner he leaped into a taxi which happened tobe standing there, and, hastily giving the driver directions, wasdriven rapidly away. By the time Kennedy reached the streetClutching Hand had disappeared. 

 . . . . . . . . 

While these exciting events were occurring in Bennett's officesome queer doings were in progress in the heart of Chinatown. 

Deep underground, in one of the catacombs known only to theinnermost members of the Chinese secret societies, was Long Sin'sservant, Tong Wah, popularly known as "the hider, " engaged in somemysterious work. 

A sinister-looking Chinaman, dressed in coolie costume, he wasstanding at a table in a dim and musty, high-ceilinged chamber, faced with stone and brick. Before him were several odd shapedChinese vials, and from these he was carefully measuring certainproportions, as if concocting some powerful potion. 

He stepped back and looked around suspiciously as he suddenlyheard footsteps above. The next moment Long Sin, who had enteredthrough a trap door, climbed down a long ladder and walked intothe room. 

Approaching Tong Wah, he asked: "When will the death-drink beready?"

"It is now prepared, " was the reply. 

Long Sin took the bowl in which the liquor had been mixed, and, having examined it, he gave a nod and a grunt of satisfaction. Then he mounted the ladder again and disappeared. 

As soon as he had gone Tong Wah, picking up several of the vials, went out through an iron door at the end of the room. 

A few minutes later the Clutching Hand drove up to Long Sin'shouse in the taxicab and, after paying the chauffeur, went to thedoor and knocked sharply. 

In response to his knocking Long Sin appeared on the threshold andmotioned to Bennett to come in, evidently astonished to see him. 

As he entered, Bennett made a secret sign and said: "I am theClutching Hand. Kennedy is close on my trail, and I have come tobe hidden. "

In a tone which betrayed alarm and fear the Chinaman intimatedthat he had no place in which Bennett could be concealed with anydegree of safety. 

For a moment Bennett glared savagely at Long Sin. 

"I possess hidden plunder worth seven million dollars, " he pleadedquickly, "and if by your aid I can make a getaway, a seventh isyours. "

The Chinaman's cupidity was clearly excited by Bennett's offer, while the bare mention of the amount at stake was sufficient toovercome all his scruples. 

After exchanging a few words he finally agreed to all theClutching Hand said. Opening a trap door in the floor of the roomin which they were standing, he led Bennett down a step-ladderinto the subterranean chamber in which Tong Wah had so recentlybeen preparing his mysterious potion. As Bennett sank into a chairand passed his hands over his brow in utter weariness, Long Sinpoured into a cup some of the liquor of death which Tong Wah hadmixed. He handed it to Bennett, who drank it eagerly. 

"How do you propose to help me to escape?" asked Bennett huskily. 

Without a word Long Sin went to the wall, and, grasping one of thestones, pressed it back, opening a large receptacle, in whichthere were two glass coffins apparently containing two deadChinamen. Pulling out the coffins, he pushed them before Bennett, who rose to his feet and gazed upon them with wonder. 

Long Sin broke the silence: "These men, " he said, "are not dead;but they have been in this condition for many months. It is whatis called in your language suspended animation. "

"Is that what you intend to do with me?" asked Bennett, shrinkingback in terror. 

The Chinaman nodded in affirmation as he pushed back the coffins. 

Overcome by the horror of the idea Bennett, with a groan, sankback into the chair, shaking his head as if to indicate that theplan was far too terrible to carry out. 

With a sinister smile and a shrug of his shoulders Long Sinpointed to the cup from which Bennett had drunk. 

"But, dear master, " he remarked suavely, "you have already drunk afull dose of the potion which causes insensibility, and it isovercoming you. Even now, " he added, "you are too weak to rise. "

Bennett made frantic efforts to move from his seat, but the potionwas already taking effect, and through sheer weakness he found hewas unable to get on his feet in spite of all his struggles. 

With a malicious chuckle Long Sin moved closer to his victim andspoke again. 

"Divulge where your seven million dollars are hidden, " hesuggested craftily, "and I will give you an antidote. "

By this time Bennett, who was becoming more rigid each moment, wasunable to speak, but by a movement of his head and an expressionin his eyes he indicated that he was ready to agree to theChinaman's proposal. 

"Where have you hidden the seven million dollars?" repeated LongSin. 

Slowly, and after a desperate struggle, Bennett managed to raiseone hand and pointed to his breast pocket. The Chinaman instantlythrust in his hand and drew out a map. 

For some moments Long Sin examined the map intently, and, with agrin of satisfaction, he placed it in his own pocket. Then hemixed what he declared was a sure antidote, and, pouring some ofthe liquor into a cup, he held it to Bennett's lips. 

As Bennett opened his mouth to drink it, Long Sin with a laughslowly pulled the cup away and poured its contents on the floor. 

Bennett's body had now become still more rigid. Every sign ofintelligence had left his face, and although his eyes did notclose, a blank stare came over his countenance, indicating plainlythat the drug had destroyed all consciousness. 

 . . . . . . . . 

By this time, I was slowly recovering my senses in the secretary'soffice, where Bennett had left me in the disguise of the ClutchingHand. Elaine, the secretary, and the clerks were gathered roundme, doing all they could to revive me. 

Meanwhile, Kennedy had enlisted the aid of two detectives and wasscouring the city for a trace of Bennett or the taxicab in whichhe had fled. 

Somehow, Kennedy suspected, instinctively, that Long Sin mightgive a clue to Bennett's whereabouts, and a few moments later, wewere all on our way in a car to Long Sin's house. 

Though we did not know it, Long Sin, at the moment when Kennedyknocked at his door, was feeling in his inside pocket to see thatthe map he had taken from Bennett was perfectly safe. Finding thathe had it, he smiled with his peculiar oriental guile. Then heopened the door, and stood for a moment, silent. 

"Where is Bennett?" demanded Kennedy. 

Long Sin eyed us all, then with a placid smile, said, "Follow me. I will show you. "

He opened a trap door, and we climbed down after Craig, entering asubterranean chamber, led by Long Sin. 

There was Bennett seated rigidly in the chair beside the tablefrom which the vials and cups, about which we then knew nothing, had been removed. 

"How did it happen?" asked Kennedy. 

"He came here, " replied Long Sin, with a wave of his hand, "andbefore I could stop him he did away with himself. "

In dumb show, the Chinaman indicated that Bennett had takenpoison. 

"Well, we've got him, " mused Kennedy, shaking his head sadly, adding, after a pause, "but he is dead. "

Elaine, who had followed us down, covered her eyes with her hands, and was sobbing convulsively. I thought she would faint, butKennedy led her gently away into an upper room. 

As he placed her in an easy chair, he bent over her, soothingly. 

"Did you--did you--really--love him?" he asked in a low tone, nodding in the direction from which he had led her. 

Still shuddering, and with an eager look at Kennedy, Elaine shookher beautiful head. 

Then, slowly rising to her feet, she looked at Craig appealingly. For a moment he looked down into her two great lakes of eyes. 

"Forgive me, " murmured Elaine, holding out her hand. Then sheadded in a voice tense with emotion, "Thank you for saving me. "

Kennedy took her hand. For a moment he held it. Then he drew hertowards him, unresisting. 

THE END