THE SILENT BULLET

By Arthur B. Reeve

CONTENTS

 CRAIG KENNEDY'S THEORIES

 I The Silent Bullet II The Scientific Cracksman III The Bacteriological Detective IV The Deadly Tube V The Seismograph Adventure VI The Diamond Maker VII The Azure Ring VIII "Spontaneous Combustion" IX The Terror In The Air X The Black Hand XI The Artificial Paradise XII The Steel Door

CRAIG KENNEDY'S THEORIES

"It has always seemed strange to me that no one has ever endowed aprofessorship in criminal science in any of our large universities. "

Craig Kennedy laid down his evening paper and filled his pipe with mytobacco. In college we had roomed together, had shared everything, evenpoverty, and now that Craig was a professor of chemistry and I was onthe staff of the Star, we had continued the arrangement. Prosperityfound us in a rather neat bachelor apartment on the Heights, not farfrom the University. 

"Why should there be a chair in criminal science?" I remarkedargumentatively, settling back in my chair. "I've done my turn at policeheadquarters reporting, and I can tell you, Craig, it's no place for acollege professor. Crime is just crime. And as for dealing with it, the good detective is born and bred to it. College professors for thesociology of the thing, yes; for the detection of it, give me a Byrnes. "

"On the contrary, " replied Kennedy, his clean-cut features betraying anearnestness which I knew indicated that he was leading up to somethingimportant, "there is a distinct place for science in the detection ofcrime. On the Continent they are far in advance of us in that respect. We are mere children beside a dozen crime-specialists in Paris, whom Icould name. "

"Yes, but where does the college professor come in?" I asked, ratherdoubtfully. 

"You must remember, Walter, " he pursued, warming up to his subject, "that it's only within the last ten years or so that we have had thereally practical college professor who could do it. The silk-stockingedvariety is out of date now. To-day it is the college professor who isthe third arbitrator in labour disputes, who reforms our currency, whoheads our tariff commissions, and conserves our farms and forests. Wehave professors of everything--why not professors of crime?"

Still, as I shook my head dubiously, he hurried on to clinch his point. "Colleges have gone a long way from the old ideal of pure culture. Theyhave got down to solving the hard facts of life--pretty nearly all, except one. They still treat crime in the old way, study its statisticsand pore over its causes and the theories of how it can be prevented. But as for running the criminal himself down, scientifically, relentlessly--bah! we haven't made an inch of progress since the hammerand tongs method of your Byrnes. "

"Doubtless you will write a thesis on this most interesting subject, " Isuggested, "and let it go at that. "

"No, I am serious, " he replied, determined for some reason or other tomake a convert of me. "I mean exactly what I say. I am going to applyscience to the detection of crime, the same sort of methods by which youtrace out the presence of a chemical, or run an unknown germ to earth. And before I have gone far, I am going to enlist Walter Jameson as anaide. I think I shall need you in my business. "

"How do I come in?"

"Well, for one thing, you will get a scoop, a beat, --whatever you callit in that newspaper jargon of yours. "

I smiled in a skeptical way, such as newspapermen are wont to affecttoward a thing until it is done--after which we make a wild scramble toexploit it. 

Nothing more on the subject passed between us for several days. 

I. The Silent Bullet

"Detectives in fiction nearly always make a great mistake, " said Kennedyone evening after our first conversation on crime and science. "Theyalmost invariably antagonize the regular detective force. Now in reallife that's impossible--it's fatal. "

"Yes, " I agreed, looking up from reading an account of the failure of alarge Wall Street brokerage house, Kerr Parker & Co. , and the peculiarsuicide of Kerr Parker. "Yes, it's impossible, just as it is impossiblefor the regular detectives to antagonize the newspapers. Scotland Yardfound that out in the Crippen case. "

"My idea of the thing, Jameson, " continued Kennedy, "is that theprofessor of criminal science ought to work with, not against, theregular detectives. They're all right. They're indispensable, of course. Half the secret of success nowadays is organisation. The professor ofcriminal science should be merely what the professor in a technicalschool often is--a sort of consulting engineer. For instance, I believethat organisation plus science would go far toward clearing up that WallStreet case I see you are reading. "

I expressed some doubt as to whether the regular police were enlightenedenough to take that view of it. 

"Some of them are, " he replied. "Yesterday the chief of police in aWestern city sent a man East to see me about the Price murder: you knowthe case?"

Indeed I did. A wealthy banker of the town had been murdered on theroad to the golf club, no one knew why or by whom. Every clue had provedfruitless, and the list of suspects was itself so long and so impossibleas to seem most discouraging. 

"He sent me a piece of a torn handkerchief with a deep blood-stain onit, " pursued Kennedy. "He said it clearly didn't belong to the murderedman, that it indicated that the murderer had himself been wounded in thetussle, but as yet it had proved utterly valueless as a clue. Would Isee what I could make of it?

"After his man had told me the story I had a feeling that the murder wascommitted by either a Sicilian labourer on the links or a negro waiterat the club. Well, to make a short story shorter, I decided to test theblood-stain. Probably you didn't know it, but the Carnegie Institutionhas just published a minute, careful, and dry study of the blood ofhuman beings and of animals. 

"In fact, they have been able to reclassify the whole animal kingdomon this basis, and have made some most surprising additions to ourknowledge of evolution. Now I don't propose to bore you with the detailsof the tests, but one of the things they showed was that the blood of acertain branch of the human race gives a reaction much like the blood ofa certain group of monkeys, the chimpanzees, while the blood of anotherbranch gives a reaction like that of the gorilla. Of course there's lotsmore to it, but this is all that need concern us now. 

"I tried the tests. The blood on the handkerchief conformed strictlyto the latter test. Now the gorilla was, of course, out of thequestion--this was no Rue Morgue murder. Therefore it was the negrowaiter. "

"But, " I interrupted, "the negro offered a perfect alibi at the start, and--"

"No buts, Walter. Here's a telegram I received at dinner:'Congratulations. Confronted Jackson your evidence as wired. Confessed. '"

"Well, Craig, I take off my hat to you, " I exclaimed. "Next you'll besolving this Kerr Parker case for sure. "

"I would take a hand in it if they'd let me, " said he simply. 

That night, without saying anything, I sauntered down to the imposingnew police building amid the squalor of Center Street. They were verybusy at headquarters, but, having once had that assignment for the Star, I had no trouble in getting in. Inspector Barney O'Connor of the CentralOffice carefully shifted a cigar from corner to corner of his mouth as Ipoured forth my suggestion to him. 

"Well, Jameson, " he said at length, "do you think this professor fellowis the goods?"

I didn't mince matters in my opinion of Kennedy. I told him of the Pricecase and showed him a copy of the telegram. That settled it. 

"Can you bring him down here to-night?" he asked quickly. 

I reached for the telephone, found Craig in his laboratory finally, andin less than an hour he was in the office. 

"This is a most bating case, Professor Kennedy, this case of KerrParker, " said the inspector, launching at once into his subject. "Hereis a broker heavily interested in Mexican rubber. It looks like a goodthing--plantations right in the same territory as those of the RubberTrust. Now in addition to that he is branching out into coastwisesteamship lines; another man associated with him is heavily engaged ina railway scheme from the United States down into Mexico. Altogether thesteamships and railroads are tapping rubber, oil, copper, and I don'tknow what other regions. Here in New York they have been pyramidingstocks, borrowing money from two trust companies which they control. It's a lovely scheme--you've read about it, I suppose. Also you've readthat it comes into competition with a certain group of capitalists whomwe will call 'the System. '

"Well, this depression in the market comes along. At once rumours arespread about the weakness of the trust companies; runs start on both ofthem. The System, --you know them--make a great show of supporting themarket. Yet the runs continue. God knows whether they will spread or thetrust companies stand up under it to-morrow after what happened to-day. It was a good thing the market was closed when it happened. 

"Kerr Parker was surrounded by a group of people who were in his schemeswith him. They are holding a council of war in the directors' room. Suddenly Parker rises, staggers toward the window, falls, and is deadbefore a doctor can get to him. Every effort is made to keep the thingquiet. It is given out that he committed suicide. The papers don't seemto accept the suicide theory, however. Neither do we. The coroner, whois working with us, has kept his mouth shut so far, and will say nothingtill the inquest. For, Professor Kennedy, my first man on the spot foundthat--Kerr Parker--was--murdered. 

"Now here comes the amazing part of the story. The doors to the officeson both sides were open at the time. There were lots of people in eachoffice. There was the usual click of typewriters, and the buzz of theticker, and the hum of conversation. We have any number of witnesses ofthe whole affair, but as far as any of them knows no shot was fired, nosmoke was seen, no noise was heard, nor was any weapon found. Yet hereon my desk is a thirty-two-calibre bullet. The coroner's physicianprobed it out of Parker's neck this afternoon and turned it over to us. "

Kennedy reached for the bullet, and turned it thoughtfully in hisfingers for a moment. One side of it had apparently struck a bone in theneck of the murdered man, and was flattened. The other side was stillperfectly smooth. With his inevitable magnifying-glass he scrutinisedthe bullet on every side. I watched his face anxiously, and I could seethat he was very intent and very excited. 

"Extraordinary, most extraordinary, " he said to himself as he turned itover and over. "Where did you say this bullet struck?"

"In the fleshy part of the neck, quite a little back of and below hisear and just above his collar. There wasn't much bleeding. I think itmust have struck the base of his brain. "

"It didn't strike his collar or hair?"

"No, " replied the inspector. 

"Inspector, I think we shall be able to put our hands on the murderer--Ithink we can get a conviction, sir, on the evidence that I shall getfrom this bullet in my laboratory. "

"That's pretty much like a story-book, " drawled the inspectorincredulously, shaking his head. 

"Perhaps, " smiled Kennedy. "But there will still be plenty of work forthe police to do, too. I've only got a clue to the murderer. It willtake the whole organisation to follow it up, believe me. Now, Inspector, can you spare the time to go down to Parker's office and take me overthe ground? No doubt we can develop something else there. "

"Sure, " answered O'Connor, and within five minutes we were hurrying downtown in one of the department automobiles. 

We found the office under guard of one of the Central Office men, whilein the outside office Parker's confidential clerk and a few assistantswere still at work in a subdued and awed manner. Men were working inmany other Wall Street offices that night during the panic, but in nonewas there more reason for it than here. Later I learned that it was thequiet tenacity of this confidential clerk that saved even as much ofParker's estate as was saved for his widow--little enough it was, too. What he saved for the clients of the firm no one will ever know. Somehow or other I liked John Downey, the clerk, from the moment Iwas introduced to him. He seemed to me, at least, to be the typicalconfidential clerk who would carry a secret worth millions and keep it. 

The officer in charge touched his hat to the inspector, and Downeyhastened to put himself at our service. It was plain that the murder hadcompletely mystified him, and that he was as anxious as we were to getat the bottom of it. 

"Mr. Downey, " began Kennedy, "I understand you were present when thissad event took place. "

"Yes, sir, sitting right here at the directors' table, " he replied, taking a chair, "like this. "

"Now can you recollect just how Mr. Parker acted when he was shot? Couldyou-er--could you take his place and show us just how it happened?"

"Yes, sir, " said Downey. "He was sitting here at the head of the table. Mr. Bruce, who is the 'CO. ' of the firm, had been sitting here at hisright; I was at the left. The inspector has a list of all the otherspresent. That door to the right was open, and Mrs. Parker and some otherladies were in the room--"

"Mrs. Parker?" broke in Kennedy. 

"Yes: Like a good many brokerage firms we have a ladies' room. Manyladies are among our clients. We make a point of catering to them. Atthat time I recollect the door was open--all the doors were open. Itwas not a secret meeting. Mr. Bruce had just gone into the ladies'department; I think to ask some of them to stand by the firm--he wasan artist at smoothing over the fears of customers, particularly women. Just before he went in I had seen the ladies go in a group toward thefar end of the room--to look down at the line of depositors on thestreet, which reached around the corner from one of the trust companies, I thought. I was making a note of an order to send into the outsideoffice there on the left, and had just pushed this button here under thetable to call a boy to carry it. Mr. Parker had just received a letterby special delivery, and seemed considerably puzzled over it. No, Idon't know what it was about. Of a sudden I saw him start in his chair, rise up unsteadily, clap his hand on the back of his head, staggeracross the floor--like this--and fall here. "

"Then what happened?"

"Why, I rushed to pick him up. Everything was confusion. I recallsomeone behind me saying, 'Here, boy, take all these papers offthe table and carry them into my office before they get lost in theexcitement. ' I think it was Bruce's voice. The next moment I heardsomeone say, 'Stand back, Mrs. Parker has fainted. ' But I didn't paymuch attention, for I was calling to someone not to get a doctor overthe telephone, but to go down to the fifth floor where one has anoffice. I made Mr. Parker as comfortable as I could. There wasn't muchI could do. He seemed to want to say something to me, but he couldn'ttalk. He was paralysed, at least his throat was. But I did manage tomake out finally what sounded to me like, 'Tell her I don't believe thescandal, I don't believe it. ' But before he could say whom to tell hehad again become unconscious, and by the time the doctor arrived he wasdead. I guess you know everything else as well as I do. "

"You didn't hear the shot fired from any particular direction?" askedKennedy. 

"No, sir. "

"Well, where do you think it came from?"

"That's what puzzles me, sir. The only thing I can figure out is that itwas fired from the outside office--perhaps by some customer who had lostmoney and sought revenge. But no one out there heard it either, any morethan they did in the directors' room or the ladies' department. "

"About that message, " asked Kennedy, ignoring what to me seemed tobe the most important feature of the case, the mystery of the silentbullet. "Didn't you see it after all was over?"

"No, sir; in fact I had forgotten about it till this moment when youasked me to reconstruct the circumstances exactly. No, sir, I don'tknow a thing about it. I can't say it impressed itself on my mind at thetime, either. "

"What did Mrs. Parker do when she came to?"

"Oh, she cried as I have never seen a woman cry before. He was dead bythat time, of course. "

"Bruce and I saw her down in the elevator to her car. In fact, thedoctor, who had arrived; said that the sooner she was taken home thebetter she would be. She was quite hysterical. "

"Did she say anything that you remember?"

Downey hesitated. 

"Out with it Downey, " said the inspector. "What did she say as she wasgoing down in the elevator?"

"Nothing. "

"Tell us. I'll arrest you if you don't. "

"Nothing about the murder, on my honour, " protested Downey. 

Kennedy leaned over suddenly and shot a remark at him, "Then it wasabout the note. "

Downey was surprised, but not quickly enough. Still he seemed to beconsidering something, and in a moment he said:

"I don't know what it was about, but I feel it is my duty, after all, totell you. I heard her say, 'I wonder if he knew. '"

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing else. "

"What happened after you came back?"

"We entered the ladies' department. No one was there. A woman'sautomobile-coat was thrown over a chair in a heap. Mr. Bruce picked itup. 'It's Mrs. Parker's, ' he said. He wrapped it up hastily, and rangfor a messenger. "

"Where did he send it?"

"To Mrs. Parker, I suppose. I didn't hear the address. "

We next went over the whole suite of offices, conducted by Mr. Downey. Inoted how carefully Kennedy looked into the directors' room through theopen door from the ladies' department. He stood at such an angle thathad he been the assassin he could scarcely have been seen except bythose sitting immediately next Mr. Parker at the directors' table. Thestreet windows were directly in front of him, and back of him was thechair on which the motorcoat had been found. 

In Parker's own office we spent some time, as well as in Bruce's. Kennedy made a search for the note, but finding nothing in eitheroffice, turned out the contents of Bruce's scrap-basket. There didn'tseem to be anything in it to interest him, however, even after he hadpieced several torn bits of scraps together with much difficulty, andhe was about to turn the papers back again, when he noticed somethingsticking to the side of the basket. It looked like a mass of wet paper, and that was precisely what it was. 

"That's queer, " said Kennedy, picking it loose. Then he wrapped it upcarefully and put it in his pocket. "Inspector, can you lend me one ofyour men for a couple of days?" he asked, as we were preparing to leave. "I shall want to send him out of town to-night, and shall probably needhis services when he gets back. "

"Very well. Riley will be just the fellow. We'll go back toheadquarters, and I'll put him under your orders. "

It was not until late in the following day that I saw Kennedy again. It had been a busy day at the Star. We had gone to work that morningexpecting to see the very financial heavens fall. But just about fiveminutes to ten, before the Stock Exchange opened, the news came inover the wire from our financial man on Broad Street: "'The System' hasforced James Bruce, partner of Kerr Parker, the dead banker; to sellhis railroad, steamship, and rubber holdings to it. On this condition itpromises unlimited support to the market. "

"Forced!" muttered the managing editor, as he waited on the office phoneto get the composing-room, so as to hurry up the few lines in red ink onthe first page and beat our rivals on the streets with the first extras. "Why, he's been working to bring that about for the past two weeks. Whatthat System doesn't control isn't worth having--it edits the news beforeour men get it, and as for grist for the divorce courts, and tragedies, well--Hello, Jenkins, yes, a special extra. Change the big heads--copyis on the way up--rush it. "

"So you think this Parker case is a mess?" I asked. 

"I know it. That's a pretty swift bunch of females that havebeen speculating at Kerr Parker & Co. 's. I understand there's oneTitian-haired young lady--who, by the way, has at least one husband whohasn't yet been divorced--who is a sort of ringleader, though she rarelygoes personally to her brokers' offices. She's one of those uptownplungers, and the story is that she has a whole string of scalps ofalleged Sunday-school superintendents at her belt. She can make Brucedo pretty nearly anything, they say. He's the latest conquest. I got thestory on pretty good authority, but until I verified the names, dates, and places, of course I wouldn't dare print a line of it. The storygoes that her husband is a hanger-on of the System, and that she's beenworking in their interest, too. That was why he was so complacent overthe whole affair. They put her up to capturing Bruce, and after she hadacquired an influence over him they worked it so that she made him makelove to Mrs. Parker. It's a long story, but that isn't all of it. Thepoint was, you see, that by this devious route they hoped to worm out ofMrs. Parker some inside information about Parker's rubber schemes, whichhe hadn't divulged even to his partners in business. It was a deep andcarefully planned plot, and some of the conspirators were pretty deeplyin the mire, I guess. I wish I'd had all the facts about who thisred-haired female Machiavelli was--what a piece of muckraking it wouldhave made! Oh, here comes the rest of the news story over the wire. ByJove, it is said on good authority that Bruce will be taken in as one ofthe board of directors. What do you think of that?"

So that was how the wind lay--Bruce making love to Mrs. Parker and shepresumably betraying her husband's secrets. I thought I saw it all:the note from somebody exposing the scheme, Parker's incredulity, Brucesitting by him and catching sight of the note, his hurrying out into theladies' department, and then the shot. But who fired it? After all, Ihad only picked up another clue. 

Kennedy was not at the apartment at dinner, and an inquiry at thelaboratory was fruitless also. So I sat down to fidget for a while. Pretty soon the buzzer on the door sounded, and I opened it to find amessenger-boy with a large brown paper parcel. 

"Is Mr. Bruce here?" he asked. 

"Why, no, he doesn't--" then I checked myself and added "He will be herepresently. You can leave the bundle. "

"Well, this is the parcel he telephoned for. His valet told me to tellhim that they had a hard time to find it, but he guesses it's all right. The charges are forty cents. Sign here. "

I signed the book, feeling like a thief, and the boy departed. What itall meant I could not guess. 

Just then I heard a key in the lock, and Kennedy came in. 

"Is your name Bruce?" I asked. 

"Why?" he replied eagerly. "Has anything come?"

I pointed to the package. Kennedy made a dive for it and unwrapped it. It was a woman's pongee automobile-coat. He held it up to the light. Thepocket on the right-hand side was scorched and burned, and a hole wastorn clean through it. I gasped when the full significance of it dawnedon me. 

"How did you get it?" I exclaimed at last in surprise. 

"That's where organisation comes in, " said Kennedy. "The police atmy request went over every messenger call from Parker's office thatafternoon, and traced every one of them up. At last they found one thatled to Bruce's apartment. None of them led to Mrs. Parker's home. The rest were all business calls and satisfactorily accounted for. Ireasoned that this was the one that involved the disappearance of theautomobile-coat. It was a chance worth taking, so I got Downey to callup Bruce's valet. The valet of course recognised Downey's voice andsuspected nothing. Downey assumed to know all about the coat in thepackage received yesterday. He asked to have it sent up here. I see thescheme worked. "

"But, Kennedy, do you think she--" I stopped, speechless, looking at thescorched coat. 

"Nothing to say--yet, " he replied laconically. "But if you could tell meanything about that note Parker received I'd thank you. "

I related what our managing editor had said that morning. Kennedy onlyraised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch. 

"I had guessed something of that sort, " he said merely. "I'm glad tofind it confirmed even by hearsay evidence. This red-haired young ladyinterests me. Not a very definite description, but better than nothingat all. I wonder who she is. Ah, well, what do you say to a stroll downthe White Way before I go to my laboratory? I'd like a breath of air torelax my mind. "

We had got no further than the first theatre when Kennedy slapped me onthe back. "By George, Jameson, she's an actress, of course. "

"Who is? What's the matter with you, Kennedy? Are you crazy?"

"The red-haired person--she must be an actress. Don't you remember theauburn-haired leading lady in the 'Follies'--the girl who sings thatsong about 'Mary, Mary, quite contrary'? Her stage name, you know, isPhoebe La Neige. Well, if it's she who is concerned in this case I don'tthink she'll be playing to-night. Let's inquire at the box-office. "

She wasn't playing, but just what it had to do with anything inparticular I couldn't see, and I said as much. 

"Why, Walter, you'd never do as a detective. You lack intuition. Sometimes I think I haven't quite enough of it, either. Why didn't Ithink of that sooner? Don't you know she is the wife of Adolphus Hesse, the most inveterate gambler in stocks in the System? Why, I had onlyto put two and two together and the whole thing flashed on me in aninstant. Isn't it a good hypothesis that she is the red-haired womanin the case, the tool of the System in which her husband is so heavilyinvolved? I'll have to add her to my list of suspects. "

"Why, you don't think she did the shooting?" I asked, half hoping, Imust admit, for an assenting nod from him. 

"Well, " he answered dryly, "one shouldn't let any preconceivedhypothesis stand between him and the truth. I've made a guess at thewhole thing already. It may or it may not be right. Anyhow she will fitinto it. And if it's not right, I've got to be prepared to make a newguess, that's all. "

When we reached the laboratory on our return, the inspector's man Rileywas there, waiting impatiently for Kennedy. 

"What luck?" asked Kennedy. 

"I've got a list of purchasers of that kind of revolver, " he said. "We have been to every sporting-goods and arms-store in the city whichbought them from the factory, and I could lay my hands on pretty nearlyevery one of those weapons in twenty-four hours--provided, of course, they haven't been secreted or destroyed. "

"Pretty nearly all isn't good enough, " said Kennedy. "It will have to beall, unless--"

"That name is in the list, " whispered Riley hoarsely. 

"Oh, then it's all right, " answered Kennedy, brightening up. "Riley, Iwill say that you're a wonder at using the organisation in ferretingout such things. There's just one more thing I want you to do. I wanta sample of the notepaper in the private desks of every one of thesepeople. " He handed the policeman a list of his 9 "suspects, " as hecalled them. It included nearly every one mentioned in the case. 

Riley studied it dubiously and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "That'sa hard one, Mr. Kennedy, sir. You see, it means getting into so manydifferent houses and apartments. Now you don't want to do it by means ofa warrant, do you, sir? Of course not. Well, then, how can we get in?"

"You're a pretty good-looking chap yourself, Riley, " said Kennedy. "Ishould think you could jolly a housemaid, if necessary. Anyhow, you canget the fellow on the beat to do it--if he isn't already to be found inthe kitchen. Why, I see a dozen ways of getting the notepaper. "

"Oh, it's me that's the lady-killer, sir, " grinned Riley. "I'm a regularBlarney stone when I'm out on a job of that sort. Sure, I'll have someof them for you in the morning. "

"Bring me what you get, the first thing in the morning, even ifyou've landed only a few samples, " said Kennedy, as Riley departed, straightening his tie and brushing his hat on his sleeve. 

"And now, Walter, you too must excuse me to-night, " said Craig. "I'vegot a lot to do, and sha'n't be up to our apartment till very late--orearly. But I feel sure I've got a strangle-hold on this mystery. If Iget those papers from Riley in good time to-morrow I shall invite youand several others to a grand demonstration here to-morrow night. Don'tforget. Keep the whole evening free. It will be a big story. "

Kennedy's laboratory was brightly lighted when I arrived early the nextevening. One by one his "guests" dropped in. It was evident that theyhad little liking for the visit, but the coroner had sent out the"invitations, " and they had nothing to do but accept. Each one waspolitely welcomed by the professor and assigned a seat, much as he wouldhave done with a group of students. The inspector and the coroner satback a little. Mrs. Parker, Mr. Downey, Mr. Bruce, myself, and MissLa Neige sat in that order in the very narrow and uncomfortable littlearmchairs used by the students during lectures. 

At last Kennedy was ready to begin. He took his position behind thelong, flat-topped table which he used for his demonstrations before hisclasses. "I realise, ladies and gentlemen, " he began formally, "that Iam about to do a very unusual thing; but, as you all know, the policeand the coroner have been completely baffled by this terrible mysteryand have requested me to attempt to clear up at least certain points init. I will begin what I have to say by remarking that the tracing outof a crime like this differs in nothing, except as regards thesubject-matter, from the search for a scientific truth. The forcing ofman's secrets is like the forcing of nature's secrets. Both are piecesof detective work. The methods employed in the detection of crimeare, or rather should be, like the methods employed in the process ofdiscovering scientific truth. In a crime of this sort, two kinds ofevidence need to be secured. Circumstantial evidence must first bemarshalled, and then a motive must be found. I have been gatheringfacts. But to omit motives and rest contented with mere facts would beinconclusive. It would never convince anybody or convict anybody. Inother words, circumstantial evidence must first lead to a suspect, andthen this suspect must prove equal to accounting for the facts. It is myhope that each of you may contribute something that will be of servicein arriving at the truth of this unfortunate incident. "

The tension was not relieved even when Kennedy stopped speaking andbegan to fuss with a little upright target which he set up at one endof his table. We seemed to be seated over a powder magazine whichthreatened to explode at any moment. I, at least, felt the tension sogreatly that it was only after he had started speaking again, that Inoticed that the target was composed of a thick layer of some putty-likematerial. 

Holding a thirty-two-calibre pistol in his right hand and aiming it atthe target, Kennedy picked up a large piece of coarse homespun from thetable and held it loosely over the muzzle of the gun. Then he fired. Thebullet tore through the cloth, sped through the air, and buried itselfin the target. With a knife he pried it out. 

"I doubt if even the inspector himself could have told us that when anordinary leaden bullet is shot through a woven fabric the weave of thatfabric is in the majority of cases impressed on the bullet, sometimesclearly, sometimes faintly. "

Here Kennedy took up a piece of fine batiste and fired another bulletthrough it. 

"Every leaden bullet, as I have said, which has struck such a fabricbears an impression of the threads which is recognisable even whenthe bullet has penetrated deeply into the body. It is only obliteratedpartially or entirely when the bullet has been flattened by striking abone or other hard object. Even then, as in this case, if only a partof the bullet is flattened the remainder may still show the marks of thefabric. A heavy warp, say of cotton velvet or, as I have here, homespun, will be imprinted well on the bullet, but even a fine batiste, containing one hundred threads to the inch, will show marks. Even layersof goods such as a coat, shirt, and undershirt may each leave theirmarks, but that does not concern us in this case. Now I have here apiece of pongee silk, cut from a woman's automobile-coat. I dischargethe bullet through it--so. I compare the bullet now with the others andwith the one probed from the neck of Mr. Parker. I find that the markson that fatal bullet correspond precisely with those on the bullet firedthrough the pongee coat. "

Startling as was this revelation, Kennedy paused only an instant beforethe next. 

"Now I have another demonstration. A certain note figures in this case. Mr. Parker was reading it, or perhaps re-reading it, at the time he wasshot. I have not been able to obtain that note--at least not in a formsuch as I could use in discovering what were its contents. But in acertain wastebasket I found a mass of wet and pulp-like paper. It hadbeen cut up, macerated, perhaps chewed; perhaps it had been also soakedwith water. There was a washbasin with running water in this room. Theink had run, and of course was illegible. The thing was so unusual thatI at once assumed that this was the remains of the note in question. Under ordinary circumstances it would be utterly valueless as a clueto anything. But to-day science is not ready to let anything pass asvalueless. 

"I found on microscopic examination that it was an uncommon linen bondpaper, and I have taken a large number of microphotographs of thefibres in it. They are all similar. I have here also about a hundredmicrophotographs of the fibres in other kinds of paper, many of thembonds. These I have accumulated from time to time in my study of thesubject. None of them, as you can see, shows fibres resembling this onein question, so we may conclude that it is of uncommon quality. Throughan agent of the police I have secured samples of the notepaper of everyone who could be concerned, as far as I could see, with this case. Hereare the photographs of the fibres of these various notepapers, and amongthem all is just one that corresponds to the fibres in the wet mass ofpaper I discovered in the scrap-basket. Now lest anyone should questionthe accuracy of this method I might cite a case where a man had beenarrested in Germany charged with stealing a government bond. He was notsearched till later. There was no evidence save that after the arrest alarge number of spitballs were found around the courtyard under his cellwindow. This method of comparing the fibres with those of the regulargovernment paper was used, and by it the man was convicted of stealingthe bond. I think it is almost unnecessary to add that in the presentcase we know precisely who--"

At this point the tension was so great that it snapped. Miss La Neige, who was sitting beside me, had been leaning forward involuntarily. Almost as if the words were wrung from her she whispered hoarsely: "Theyput me up to doing it; I didn't want to. But the affair had gone toofar. I couldn't see him lost before my very eyes. I didn't want her toget him. The quickest way out was to tell the whole story to Mr. Parkerand stop it. It was the only way I could think of to stop this thingbetween another man's wife and the man I loved better than my ownhusband. God knows, Professor Kennedy, that was all--"

"Calm yourself, madame, " interrupted Kennedy soothingly. "Calm yourself. What's done is done. The truth must come out. Be calm. Now, " hecontinued, after the first storm of remorse had spent itself and we wereall outwardly composed again, "we have said nothing whatever of the mostmysterious feature of the case, the firing of the shot. The murderercould have thrust the weapon into the pocket or the folds of thiscoat"--here he drew forth the automobile coat and held it aloft, displaying the bullet hole--"and he or she (I will not say which) couldhave discharged the pistol unseen. By removing and secreting the weaponafterward one very important piece of evidence would be suppressed. This person could have used such a cartridge as I have here, made withsmokeless powder, and the coat would have concealed the flash of theshot very effectively. There would have been no smoke. But neither thiscoat nor even a heavy blanket would have deadened the report of theshot. 

"What are we to think of that? Only one thing. I have often wonderedwhy the thing wasn't done before. In fact I have been waiting for it tooccur. There is an invention that makes it almost possible to strikea man down with impunity in broad daylight in any place where there issufficient noise to cover up a click, a slight 'Pouf!' and the whir ofthe bullet in the air. 

"I refer to this little device of a Hartford inventor. I place itover the muzzle of the thirty-two-calibre revolver I have so far beenusing--so. Now, Mr. Jameson, if you will sit at that typewriter overthere and write--anything so long as you keep the keys clicking. Theinspector will start that imitation stock-ticker in the corner. Now weare ready. I cover the pistol with a cloth. I defy anyone in this roomto tell me the exact moment when I discharged the pistol. I could haveshot any of you, and an outsider not in the secret would never havethought that I was the culprit. To a certain extent I have reproducedthe conditions under which this shooting occurred. 

"At once on being sure of this feature of the case I despatched a man toHartford to see this inventor. The man obtained from him a complete listof all the dealers in New York to whom such devices had been sold. Theman also traced every sale of those dealers. He did not actually obtainthe weapon, but if he is working on schedule-time according to agreementhe is at this moment armed with a search-warrant and is ransackingevery possible place where the person suspected of this crime could haveconcealed his weapon. For, one of the persons intimately connected withthis case purchased not long ago a silencer for a thirty-two-calibrerevolver, and I presume that that person carried the gun and thesilencer at the time of the murder of Kerr Parker. "

Kennedy concluded in triumph, his voice high pitched, his eyes flashing. Yet to all outward appearance not a heart-beat was quickened. Someonein that room had an amazing store of self-possession. The fear flittedacross my mind that even at the last Kennedy was baffled. 

"I had anticipated some such anti-climax, " he continued after a moment. "I am prepared for it. "

He touched a bell, and the door to the next room opened. One ofKennedy's graduate students stepped in. 

"You have the records, Whiting" he asked. 

"Yes, Professor. "

"I may say, " said Kennedy, "that each of your chairs is wired under thearm in such a way as to betray on an appropriate indicator in the nextroom every sudden and undue emotion. Though it may be concealed fromthe eye, even of one like me who stands facing you, such emotion isnevertheless expressed by physical pressure on the arms of the chair. Itis a test that is used frequently with students to demonstrate variouspoints of psychology. You needn't raise your arms from the chairs, ladies and gentlemen. The tests are all over now. What did they show, Whiting?"

The student read what he had been noting in the next room. At theproduction of the coat during the demonstration of the markings ofthe bullet, Mrs. Parker had betrayed great emotion, Mr. Bruce had donelikewise, and nothing more than ordinary emotion had been noted for therest of us. Miss La Neige's automatic record during the tracing out ofthe sending of the note to Parker had been especially unfavourable toher; Mr. Bruce showed almost as much excitement; Mrs. Parker verylittle and Downey very little. It was all set forth in curves drawn byself-recording pens on regular ruled paper. The student had merely notedwhat took place in the lecture-room as corresponding to these curves. 

"At the mention of the noiseless gun, " said Kennedy, bending over therecord, while the student pointed it out to him and we leaned forward tocatch his words, "I find that the curves of Miss La Neige, Mrs. Parker, and Mr. Downey are only so far from normal as would be natural. All ofthem were witnessing a thing for the first time with only curiosity andno fear. The curve made by Mr. Bruce shows great agitation and--"

I heard a metallic click at my side and turned hastily. It was InspectorBarney O'Connor, who had stepped out of the shadow with a pair ofhand-cuffs. 

"James Bruce, you are under arrest, " he said. 

There flashed on my mind, and I think on the minds of some of theothers, a picture of another electrically wired chair. 

II. The Scientific Cracksman

"I'm willing to wager you a box of cigars that you don't know the mostfascinating story in your own paper to-night, " remarked Kennedy, as Icame in one evening with the four or five newspapers I was in the habitof reading to see whether they had beaten the Star in getting any newsof importance. 

"I'll bet I do, " I said, "or I was one of about a dozen who worked itup. It's the Shaw murder trial. There isn't another that's even a badsecond. "

"I am afraid the cigars will be on you, Walter. Crowded over on thesecond page by a lot of stale sensation that everyone has read for thefiftieth time, now, you will find what promises to be a real sensation, a curious half-column account of the sudden death of John G. Fletcher. "

I laughed. "Craig, " I said, "when you put up a simple death fromapoplexy against a murder trial, and such a murder trial; well, youdisappoint me--that's all. "

"Is it a simple case of apoplexy?" he asked, pacing up and down theroom, while I wondered why he should grow excited over what seemed avery ordinary news item, after all. Then he picked up the paper and readthe account slowly aloud. 

 JOHN G. FLETCHER, STEEL MAGNATE, DIES SUDDENLY

 SAFE OPEN BUT LARGE SUM OF CASH UNTOUCHED

John Graham Fletcher, the aged philanthropist and steelmaker, was founddead in his library this morning at his home at Fletcherwood, GreatNeck, Long Island. Strangely, the safe in the library in which he kepthis papers and a large sum of cash was found opened, but as far as couldbe learned nothing is missing. 

It had always been Mr. Fletcher's custom to rise at seven o'clock. Thismorning his housekeeper became alarmed when he had not appeared by nineo'clock. Listening at the door, she heard no sound. It was not locked, and on entering she found the former steel-magnate lying lifeless onthe floor between his bedroom and the library adjoining. His personalphysician, Dr. W. C. Bryant, was immediately notified. 

Close examination of the body revealed that his face was slightlydiscoloured, and the cause of death was given by the physician asapoplexy. He had evidently been dead about eight or nine hours whendiscovered. 

Mr. Fletcher is survived by a nephew, John G. Fletcher, II. , who is theBlake professor of bacteriology at the University, and by a grandniece, Miss Helen Bond. Professor Fletcher was informed of the sad occurrenceshortly after leaving a class this morning and hurried out toFletcherwood. He would make no statement other than that he wasinexpressibly shocked. Miss Bond, who has for several years resided withrelatives, Mr. And Mrs. Francis Greene of Little Neck, is prostrated bythe shock. 

"Walter, " added Kennedy, as he laid down the paper and, without any moresparring, came directly to the point, "there was something missing fromthat safe. "

I had no need to express the interest I now really felt, and Kennedyhastened to take advantage of it. 

"Just before you came in, " he continued, "Jack Fletcher called me upfrom Great Neck. You probably don't know it, but it has been privatelyreported in the inner circle of the University that old Fletcher wasto leave the bulk of his fortune to found a great school of preventivemedicine, and that the only proviso was that his nephew should be deanof the school. The professor told me over the wire that the will wasmissing from the safe, and that it was the only thing missing. From hisexcitement I judge that there is more to the story than he cared totell over the 'phone. He said his car was on the way to the city, and heasked if I wouldn't come and help him--he wouldn't say how. Now, I knowhim pretty well, and I'm going to ask you to come along, Walter, forthe express purpose of keeping this thing out of the newspapersunderstand?--until we get to the bottom of it. "

A few minutes later the telephone rang and the hall-boy announced thatthe car was waiting. We hurried down to it; the chauffeur lounged downcarelessly into his seat and we were off across the city and river andout on the road to Great Neck with amazing speed. 

Already I began to feel something of Kennedy's zest for the adventure. I found myself half a dozen times on the point of hazarding a suspicion, only to relapse again into silence at the inscrutable look on Kennedy'sface. What was the mystery that awaited us in the great lonely house onLong Island?

We found Fletcherwood a splendid estate directly on the bay, with a longdriveway leading up to the door. Professor Fletcher met us at the portecochere, and I was glad to note that, far from taking me as an intruder, he seemed rather relieved that someone who understood the ways of thenewspapers could stand between him and any reporters who might possiblydrop in. 

He ushered us directly into the library and closed the door. It seemedas if he could scarcely wait to tell his story. 

"Kennedy, " he began, almost trembling with excitement, "look at thatsafe door. "

We looked. It had been drilled through in such a way as to break thecombination. It was a heavy door, closely fitting, and it was the bestkind of small safe that the state of the art had produced. Yet clearlyit had been tampered with, and successfully. Who was this scientificcracksman who had apparently accomplished the impossible? It was noordinary hand and brain which had executed this "job. "

Fletcher swung the door wide, and pointed to a little compartmentinside, whose steel door had been jimmied open. Then out of it hecarefully lifted a steel box and deposited it on the library table. 

"I suppose everybody has been handling that box?" asked Craig quickly. 

A smile flitted across Fletcher's features. "I thought of that, Kennedy, " he said. "I remembered what you once told me aboutfinger-prints. Only myself has touched it, and I was careful to takehold of it only on the sides. The will was placed in this box, and thekey to the box was usually in the lock. Well, the will is gone. That'sall; nothing else was touched. But for the life of me I can't find amark on the box, not a finger-mark. Now on a hot and humid summer nightlike last night I should say it was pretty likely that anyone touchingthis metal box would have left finger-marks. Shouldn't you think so, Kennedy?"

Kennedy nodded and continued to examine the place where the compartmenthad been jimmied. A low whistle aroused us: coming over to the table, Craig tore a white sheet of paper off a pad lying there and deposited acouple of small particles on it. 

"I found them sticking on the jagged edges of the steel where it hadbeen forced, " he said. Then he whipped out a pocket magnifying-glass. "Not from a rubber glove, " he commented half to himself. "By Jove, one side of them shows lines that look as if they were the lines on aperson's fingers, and the other side is perfectly smooth. There's not achance of using them as a clue, except--well, I didn't know criminals inAmerica knew that stunt. "

"What stunt?"

"Why, you know how keen the new detectives are on the finger-printsystem? Well, the first thing some of the up-to-date criminals in Europedid was to wear rubber gloves so that they would leave no prints. Butyou can't work very well with rubber gloves. Last fall in Paris I heardof a fellow who had given the police a lot of trouble. He never left amark, or at least it was no good if he did. He painted his hands lightlywith a liquid rubber which he had invented himself. It did all thatrubber gloves would do and yet left him the free use of his fingers withpractically the same keenness of touch. Fletcher, whatever is at thebottom of this affair, I feel sure right now that you have to deal withno ordinary criminal. "

"Do you suppose there are any relatives besides those we know of?" Iasked Kennedy when Fletcher had left to summon the servants. 

"No, " he replied, "I think not. Fletcher and Helen Bond, his secondcousin, to whom he is engaged, are the only two. "

Kennedy continued to study the library. He walked in and out of thedoors and examined the windows and viewed the safe from all angles. 

"The old gentleman's bedroom is here, " he said, indicating a door. "Nowa good smart noise or perhaps even a light shining through the transomfrom the library might arouse him. Suppose he woke up suddenly andentered by this door. He would see the thief at work on the safe. Yes, that part of reconstructing the story is simple. But who was theintruder?"

Just then Fletcher returned with the servants. The questioning was longand tedious, and developed nothing except that the butler admitted thathe was uncertain whether the windows in the library were locked. Thegardener was very obtuse, but finally contributed one possibly importantfact. He had noted in the morning that the back gate, leading into adisused road closer to the bay than the main highway in front of thehouse, was open. It was rarely used, and was kept closed only by anordinary hook. Whoever had opened it had evidently forgotten to hook it. He had thought it strange that it was unhooked, and in closing it he hadnoticed in the mud of the roadway marks that seemed to indicate that anautomobile had stood there. 

After the servants had gone, Fletcher asked us to excuse him for awhile, as he wished to run over to the Greenes', who lived across thebay. Miss Bond was completely prostrated by the death of her uncle, hesaid, and was in an extremely nervous condition. Meanwhile if we foundany need of a machine we might use his uncle's, or in fact anythingaround the place. 

"Walter, " said Craig, when Fletcher had gone, "I want to run back totown to-night, and I have something I'd like to have you do, too. "

We were soon speeding back along the splendid road to Long Island City, while he laid out our programme. 

"You go down to the Star office, " he said, "and look through all theclippings on the whole Fletcher family. Get a complete story of the lifeof Helen Bond, too--what she has done in society, with whom she has beenseen mostly, whether she has made any trips abroad, and whether shehas ever been engaged--you know, anything likely to be significant. I'mgoing up to the apartment to get my camera and then to the laboratory toget some rather bulky paraphernalia I want to take out to Fletcherwood. Meet me at the Columbus Circle station at, say half-past-ten. "

So we separated. My search revealed the fact that Miss Bond had alwaysbeen intimate with the ultra-fashionable set, had spent last summerin Europe, a good part of the time in Switzerland and Paris with theGreenes. As far as I could find out she had never been reported engaged, but plenty of fortunes as well as foreign titles had been flitting aboutthe ward of the steel-magnate. 

Craig and I met at the appointed time. He had a lot of paraphernaliawith him, and it did not add to our comfort as we sped back, but itwasn't much over half an hour before we again found ourselves nearingGreat Neck. 

Instead of going directly back to Fletcherwood, however, Craig had toldthe chauffeur to stop at the plant of the local electric light and powercompany, where he asked if he might see the record of the amount ofcurrent used the night before. 

The curve sprawled across the ruled surface of the sheet by theautomatic registering-needle was irregular, showing the ups and downs ofthe current, rising sharply from sundown and gradually declining afternine o'clock, as the lights went out. Somewhere between eleven andtwelve o'clock, however, the irregular fall of the curve was broken by aquite noticeable upward twist. 

Craig asked the men if that usually happened. They were quite sure thatthe curve as a rule went gradually down until twelve o'clock, when thepower was shut off. But they did not see anything remarkable in it. "Oh, I suppose some of the big houses had guests, " volunteered the foreman, "and just to show off the place perhaps they turned on all the lights. I don't know, sir, what it was, but it couldn't have been a heavy drain, or we would have noticed it at the time, and the lights would all havebeen dim. "

"Well, " said Craig, "just watch and see if it occurs again to-nightabout the same time. "

"All right, sir. "

"And when you close down the plant for the night, will you bring therecord card up to Fletcherwood?" asked Craig, slipping a bill into thepocket of the foreman's shirt. 

"I will, and thank you, sir. "

It was nearly half-past eleven when Craig had got his apparatus set upin the library at Fletcherwood. Then he unscrewed all the bulbs from thechandelier in the library and attached in their places connections withthe usual green silk-covered flexible wire rope. These were then joinedup to a little instrument which to me looked like a drill. Next hemuffed the drill with a wad of felt and applied it to the safe door. 

I could hear the dull tat-tat of the drill. Going into the bedroom andclosing the door, I found that it was still audible to me, but an oldman, inclined to deafness and asleep, would scarcely have been awakenedby it. In about ten minutes Craig displayed a neat little hole in thesafe door opposite the one made by the cracksman in the combination. 

"I'm glad you're honest, " I said, "or else we might be afraid ofyou--perhaps even make you prove an alibi for last night's job!"

He ignored my bantering and said in a tone such as he might haveused before a class of students in the gentle art of scientificsafe-cracking: "Now if the power company's curve is just the sameto-night as last night, that will show how the thing was done. I wantedto be sure of it, so I thought I'd try this apparatus which I smuggledin from Paris last year. I believe the old man happened to be wakefuland heard it. "

Then he pried off the door of the interior compartment which had beenjimmied open. "Perhaps we may learn something by looking at thisdoor and studying the marks left by the jimmy, by means of this newinstrument of mine, " he said. 

On the library table he fastened an arrangement with two upright postssupporting a dial which he called a "dynamometer. " The uprights werebraced in the back, and the whole thing reminded me of a miniatureguillotine. 

"This is my mechanical detective, " said Craig proudly. "It was devisedby Bertillon himself, and he personally gave me permission to copy hisown machine. You see, it is devised to measure pressure. Now let's takean ordinary jimmy and see just how much pressure it takes to duplicatethose marks on this door. "

Craig laid the piece of steel on the dynamometer in the position it hadoccupied in the safe, and braced it tightly. Then he took a jimmy andpressed on it with all his strength. The steel door was connected withthe indicator, and the needle spun around until it indicated a pressuresuch as only a strong man could have exerted. Comparing the marks madein the steel in the experiment and by the safe-cracker, it was evidentthat no such pressure had been necessary. Apparently the lock on thedoor was only a trifling affair, and the steel itself was not very, tough. The safe-makers had relied on the first line of defence to repelattack. 

Craig tried again and again, each time using less force. At last he gota mark just about similar to the original marks on the steel. 

"Well, well, what do you think of that?" he exclaimed reflectively. "Achild could have done that part of the job. "

Just then the lights went off for the night. Craig lighted the oil-lamp, and sat in silence until the electric light plant foreman appeared with;the card-record, which showed a curve practically identical with that ofthe night before. 

A few moments later Professor Fletcher's machine came up the driveway, and he joined us with a worried and preoccupied look on his face thathe could not conceal. "She's terribly broken up by the suddenness of itall, " he murmured as he sank into an armchair. "The shock has been toomuch for her. In fact, I hadn't the heart to tell her anything aboutthe robbery, poor girl. " Then in a moment he asked, "Any more clues yet, Kennedy?"

"Well, nothing of first importance. I have only been trying toreconstruct the story of the robbery so that I can reason out a motiveand a few details; then when the real clues come along we won't haveso much ground to cover. The cracksman was certainly clever. He used anelectric drill to break the combination and ran it by the electric lightcurrent. "

"Whew!" exclaimed the professor, "is that so? He must have been abovethe average. That's interesting. "

"By the way, Fletcher, " said Kennedy, "I wish you would introduce me toyour fiancee to-morrow. I would like to know her. "

"Gladly, " Fletcher replied, "only you must be careful what you talkabout. Remember, the death of uncle has been quite a shock to her--hewas her only relative besides myself. "

"I will, " promised Kennedy, "and by the way, she may think it strangethat I'm out here at a time like this. Perhaps you had better tellher I'm a nerve specialist or something of that sort--anything not toconnect me with the robbery, which you say you haven't told her about. "

The next morning found Kennedy out bright and early, for he had not hada very good chance to do anything during the night except reconstructthe details. He was now down by the back gate with his camera, where Ifound him turning it end-down and photographing the road. Together wemade a thorough search of the woods and the road about the gate, butcould discover absolutely nothing. 

After breakfast I improvised a dark room and developed the films, whileCraig went down the back lane along the shore "looking for clues, " as hesaid briefly. Toward noon he returned, and I could see that he was ina brown study. So I said nothing, but handed him the photographs ofthe road. He took them and laid them down in a long line on the libraryfloor. They seemed to consist of little ridges of dirt on either sideof a series of regular round spots, some of the spots very clear anddistinct on the sides, others quite obscure in the centre. Now and thenwhere you would expect to see one of the spots, just for the symmetry ofthe thing, it was missing. As I looked at the line of photographs on thefloor I saw that they were a photograph of the track made by the tire ofan automobile, and I suddenly recalled what the gardener had said. 

Next Craig produced the results of his morning's work, which consistedof several dozen sheets of white paper, carefully separated into threebundles. These he also laid down in long lines on the floor, eachpackage in a separate line. Then I began to realise what he was doing, and became fascinated in watching him on his hands and knees eagerlyscanning the papers and comparing them with the photographs. At lasthe gathered up two of the sets of papers very decisively and threw themaway. Then he shifted the third set a bit, and laid it closely parallelto the photographs. 

"Look at these, Walter, " he said. "Now take this deep and sharpindentation. Well, there's a corresponding one in the photograph. So youcan pick them out one for another. Now here's one missing altogether onthe paper. So it is in the photograph. "

Almost like a schoolboy in his glee, he was comparing the little roundcircles made by the metal insertions in an "anti-skid" automobile tire. Time and again I had seen imprints like that left in the dust and greaseof an asphalted street or the mud of a road. It had never occurred to methat they might be used in any way. Yet here Craig was, calmly tracingout the similarity before my very eyes, identifying the marks made inthe photograph with the prints left on the bits of paper. 

As I followed him, I had a most curious feeling of admiration for hisgenius. "Craig, " I cried, "that's the thumb-print of an automobile. "

"There speaks the yellow journalist, " he answered merrily. "'Thumb PrintSystem Applied to Motor Cars'--I can see the Sunday feature storyyou have in your mind with that headline already. Yes, Walter, that'sprecisely what this is. The Berlin police have used it a number of timeswith the most startling results. "

"But, Craig, " I exclaimed suddenly, "the paper prints, where did you getthem? What machine is it?"

"It's one not very far from here, " he answered sententiously, and I sawhe would say nothing more that might fix a false suspicion on anyone. Still, my curiosity was so great that if there had been an opportunity Icertainly should have tried out his plan on all the cars in the Fletchergarage. 

Kennedy would say nothing more, and we ate our luncheon in silence. Fletcher, who had decided to lunch with the Greenes, called Kennedy upon the telephone to tell him it would be all right for him to call onMiss Bond later in the afternoon. 

"And I may bring over the apparatus I once described to you to determinejust what her nervous condition is?" he asked. Apparently the answer wasyes, for Kennedy hung up the receiver with a satisfied, "Good-bye. "

"Walter, I want you to come along with me this afternoon as myassistant. Remember I'm now Dr. Kennedy, the nerve specialist, and youare Dr. Jameson, my colleague, and we are to be in consultation on amost important case. "

"Do you think that's fair?" I asked hotly, "to take that girl off herguard, to insinuate yourself into her confidence as a medical adviser, and worm out of her some kind of fact incriminating someone? I supposethat's your plan, and I don't like the ethics, or rather the lack ofethics, of the thing. "

"Now think a minute, Walter. Perhaps I am wrong; I don't know. CertainlyI feel that the end will justify the means. I have an idea that Ican get from Miss Bond the only clue that I need, one that will leadstraight to the criminal. Who knows? I have a suspicion that the thingI'm going to do is the highest form of your so-called ethics. If whatFletcher tells us is true that girl is going insane over this thing. Why should she be so shocked over the death of an uncle she did notlive with? I tell you she knows something about this case that it isnecessary for us to know, too. If she doesn't tell someone, it will eather mind out. I'll add a dinner to the box of cigars we have already beton this case that what I'm going to do is for the best--for her best. "

Again I yielded, for I was coming to have more and more faith in the oldKennedy I had seen made over into a first-class detective, and togetherwe started for the Greenes', Craig carrying something in one of thoselong black handbags which physicians use. 

Fletcher met us on the driveway. He seemed to be very much affected, for his face was drawn, and he shifted from one position to anothernervously, from which we inferred that Miss Bond was feeling worse. Itwas late afternoon, almost verging on twilight, as he led us throughthe reception-hall and thence onto a long porch overlooking the bay andredolent with honeysuckle. 

Miss Bond was half reclining in a wicker chair us we entered. Shestarted to rise to greet us, but Fletcher gently restrained her, saying, as he introduced us, that he guessed the doctors would pardon anyinformality from an invalid. 

Fletcher was a pretty fine fellow, and I had come to like him; but Isoon found myself wondering what he had ever done to deserve winningsuch a girl as Helen Bond. She was what I should describe as the idealtype of "new" woman, --tall and athletic, yet without any affectationof mannishness. The very first thought that struck me was theincongruousness of a girl of her type suffering from an attack of"nerves, " and I felt sure it must be as Craig had said, that she wasconcealing a secret that was having a terrible effect on her. A casualglance might not have betrayed the true state of her feelings, for herdark hair and large brown eyes and the tan of many suns on her face andarms betokened anything but the neurasthenic. One felt instinctivelythat she was, with all her athletic grace, primarily a womanly woman. 

The sun sinking toward the hills across the bay softened the brown ofher skin and, as I observed by watching her closely, served partiallyto conceal the nervousness which was wholly unnatural in a girl of suchpoise. When she smiled there was a false note in it; it was forced andit was sufficiently evident to me that she was going through a mentalhell of conflicting emotions that would have killed a woman of lessself-control. 

I felt that I would like to be in Fletcher's shoes--doubly so when, atKennedy's request, he withdrew, leaving me to witness the torture of awoman of such fine sensibilities, already hunted remorselessly by herown thoughts. 

Still, I will give Kennedy credit for a tactfulness that I didn't knowthe old fellow possessed. He carried through the preliminary questionsvery well for a pseudo-doctor, appealing to me as his assistant oninconsequential things that enabled me to "save my face" perfectly. Whenhe came to the critical moment of opening the black bag, he made a veryappropriate and easy remark about not having brought any sharp shinyinstruments or nasty black drugs. 

"All I wish to do, Miss Bond, is to make a few, simple little tests ofyour nervous condition. One of them we specialists call reaction time, and another is a test of heart action. Neither is of any seriousness atall, so I beg of you not to become excited, for the chief value consistsin having the patient perfectly quiet and normal. After they are overI think I'll know whether to prescribe absolute rest or a visit toNewport. "

She smiled languidly, as he adjusted a long, tightly fitting rubberglove on her shapely forearm and then encased it in a larger, absolutelyinflexible covering of leather. Between the rubber glove and the leathercovering was a liquid communicating by a glass tube with a sort ofdial. Craig had often explained to me how the pressure of the blood wasregistered most minutely on the dial, showing the varied emotions askeenly as if you had taken a peep into the very mind of the subject. I think the experimental psychologists called the thing a"plethysmograph. "

Then he had an apparatus which measured association time. The essentialpart of this instrument was the operation of a very delicate stop-watch, and this duty was given to me. It was nothing more nor less thanmeasuring the time that elapsed between his questions to her and heranswers, while he recorded the actual questions and answers and notedthe results which I worked out. Neither of us was unfamiliar with theprocess, for when we were in college these instruments were just cominginto use in America. Kennedy had never let his particular branch ofscience narrow him, but had made a practice of keeping abreast of allthe important discoveries and methods in other fields. Besides, Ihad read articles about the chronoscope, the plethysmograph, thesphygmograph, and others of the new psychological instruments. Craigcarried it off, however, as if he did that sort of thing as an every-dayemployment. 

"Now, Miss Bond, " he said, and his voice was so reassuring andpersuasive that I could see she was not made even a shade more nervousby our simple preparations, "the game--it is just like a children'sparlour game--is just this: I will say a word--take 'dog, ' for instance. You are to answer back immediately the first word that comes into yourmind suggested by it--say 'cat. ' I will say 'chain, ' for example, andprobably you will answer 'collar, ' and so on. Do you catch my meaning?It may seem ridiculous, no doubt, but before we are through I feel sureyou'll see how valuable such a test is, particularly in a simple case ofnervousness such as yours. "

I don't think she found any sinister interpretation in his words, but Idid, and if ever I wanted to protest it was then, but my voice seemed tostick in my throat. 

He was beginning. It was clearly up to me to give in and not interfere. As closely as I was able I kept my eyes riveted on the watch and otherapparatus, while my ears and heart followed with mingled emotions thelow, musical voice of the girl. 

I will not give all the test, for there was much of it, particularly atthe start, that was in reality valueless, since it was merely leading upto the "surprise tests. " From the colourless questions Kennedy suddenlychanged. It was done in an instant, when Miss Bond had been completelydisarmed and put off her guard. 

"Night, " said Kennedy. "Day, " came back the reply from Miss Bond. 

"Automobile. " "Horse. "

"Bay. " "Beach. "

"Road. " "Forest. "

"Gate. " "Fence. "

"Path. " "Shrubs. "

"Porch. " "House. "

Did I detect or imagine a faint hesitation?

"Window. " "Curtain. "

Yes, it was plain that time. But the words followed one another in quicksuccession. There was no rest. She had no chance to collect herself. Inoted the marked difference in the reaction time and, in my sympathy, damned this cold; scientific third degree. 

"Paris. " "France. "

"Quartier Latin. " "Students. "

"Apaches. " Craig gave it its Gallicised pronunciation, "Apash. ""Really, Dr. Kennedy, " she said, "there is nothing I can associatewith them--well, yes, les vaches, I believe. You had better count thatquestion out. I've wasted a good many seconds. "

"Very well, let us try again, " he replied with a forced unconcern, though the answer seemed to interest him, for "les vaches" meant "thecows, " otherwise known as the police. 

No lawyer could have revelled in an opportunity for putting leadingquestions more ruthlessly than did Kennedy. He snapped out his wordssharply and unexpectedly. 

"Chandelier. " "Light. "

"Electric light, " he emphasised. "Broadway, " she answered, endeavouringto force a new association of ideas to replace one which she strove toconceal. 

"Safe. " "Vaults. " Out of the corner of my eye I could see that theindicator showed a tremendously increased heart action. As for thereaction time, I noted that it was growing longer and more significant. Remorselessly he pressed his words home. Mentally I cursed him. 

"Rubber. " "Tire. "

"Steel. " "Pittsburg, " she cried at random. 

"Strong-box, " No answer. 

"Lock. " Again no answer. He hurried his words. I was leaning forward, tense with excitement and sympathy. 

"Key. " Silence and a fluttering of the blood pressure indicator. 

"Will. "

As the last word was uttered her air of frightened defiance was sweptaway. With a cry of anguish, she swayed to her feet. "No, no, doctor, you must not, you must not, " she cried with outstretched arms. "Why doyou pick out those words of all others? Can it be--" If I had not caughther I believe she would have fainted. 

The indicator showed a heart alternately throbbing with feverishexcitement and almost stopping with fear. What would Kennedy do next, Iwondered, determined to shut him off as soon as I possibly could. Fromthe moment I had seen her I had been under her spell. Mine should havebeen Fletcher's place, I knew, though I cannot but say that I felt acertain grim pleasure in supporting even momentarily such a woman in hertime of need. 

"Can it be that you have guessed what no one in the world, no, not evendear old Jack, dreams Oh, I shall go mad, mad, mad!"

Kennedy was on his feet in an instant, advancing toward her. The look inhis eyes was answer enough for her. She knew that he knew, and she paledand shuddered, shrinking away from him. 

"Miss Bond, " he said in a voice that forced attention--it was low andvibrating with feeling--"Miss Bond, have you ever told a lie to shield afriend?"

"Yes, " she said, her eyes meeting his. 

"So can I, " came back the same tense voice, "when I know the truth aboutthat friend. "

Then for the first time tears came in a storm. Her breath was quick andfeverish. "No one will ever believe, no one will understand. They willsay that I killed him, that I murdered him. "

Through it all I stood almost speechless, puzzled. What did it all mean?

"No, " said Kennedy, "no, for they will never know of it. "

"Never know?"

"Never--if in the end justice is done. Have you the will? Or did youdestroy it?"

It was a bold stroke. 

"Yes. No. Here it is. How could I destroy it, even though it was burningout my very soul?"

She literally tore the paper from the bosom of her dress and cast itfrom her in horror and terror. 

Kennedy picked it up, opened it, and glanced hurriedly through it. "MissBond, " he said, "Jack shall never know a word of this. I shall tell himthat the will has been found unexpectedly in John Fletcher's desk amongsome other papers. Walter, swear on your honour as a gentleman that thiswill was found in old Fletcher's desk. "

"Dr. Kennedy, how can I ever thank you?" she exclaimed, sinking wearilydown into a chair and pressing her hands to her throbbing forehead. 

"By telling me just how you came by this will, so that when you andFletcher are married I may be as good a friend, without suspicion, toyou as I am to him. I think a full confession would do you good, MissBond. Would you prefer to have Dr. Jameson not hear it?"

"No, he may stay. "

"This much I know, Miss Bond. Last summer in Paris with the Greenes youmust have chanced to hear, of Pillard, the Apache, one of the most notedcracksmen the world has ever produced. You sought him out. He taughtyou how to paint your fingers with a rubber composition, how to use anelectric drill, how to use the old-fashioned jimmy. You went down toFletcherwood by the back road about a quarter after eleven the night ofthe robbery in the Greenes' little electric runabout. You entered thelibrary by an unlocked window, you coupled your drill to the electriclight connections of the chandelier. You had to work quickly, for thepower would go off at midnight, yet you could not do the job later, whenthey were sleeping more soundly, for the very same reason. "

It was uncanny as Kennedy rushed along in his reconstruction of thescene, almost unbelievable. The girl watched him, fascinated. 

"John Fletcher was wakeful that night. Somehow or other he heard youat work. He entered the library and, by the light streaming from hisbedroom, he saw who it was. In anger he must have addressed you, and hispassion got the better of his age--he fell suddenly on the floor with astroke of apoplexy. As you bent over him he died. But why did you everattempt so foolish an undertaking? Didn't you know that other peopleknew of the will and its terms, that you were sure to be traced outin the end, if not by friends, by foes? How did you suppose you couldprofit by destroying the will, of which others knew the provisions?"

Any other woman than Helen Bond would have been hysterical long beforeKennedy had finished pressing home remorselessly one fact after anotherof her story. But, with her, the relief now after the tension of manyhours of concealment seemed to nerve her to go to the end and tell thetruth. 

What was it? Had she some secret lover for whom she had dared all tosecure the family fortune? Or was she shielding someone dearer to herthan her own reputation? Why had Kennedy made Fletcher withdraw?

Her eyes dropped and her breast rose and fell with suppressed emotion. Yet I was hardly prepared for her reply when at last she slowly raisedher head and looked us calmly in the face. 

"I did it because I loved Jack. "

Neither of us spoke. I, at least, had fallen completely under the spellof this masterful woman. Right or wrong, I could not restrain a feelingof admiration and amazement. 

"Yes, " she said as her voice thrilled with emotion, "strange as it maysound to you, it was not love of self that made me do it. I was, I ammadly in love with Jack. No other man has ever inspired such respect andlove as he has. His work in the university I have fairly gloated over. And yet--and yet, Dr. Kennedy, can you not see that I am different fromJack? What would I do with the income of the wife of even the dean ofthe new school? The annuity provided for me in that will is paltry. Ineed millions. From the tiniest baby I have been reared that way. I havealways expected this fortune. I have been given everything I wanted. But it is different when one is married--you must have your own money. Ineed a fortune, for then I could have the town house, the country house, the yacht, the motors, the clothes, the servants that I need--they areas much a part of my life as your profession is of yours. I must havethem. 

"And now it was all to slip from my hands. True, it was to go in such away by this last will as to make Jack happy in his new school. I couldhave let that go, if that was all. There are other fortunes that havebeen laid at my feet. But I wanted Jack, and I knew Jack wanted me. Dearboy, he never could realise how utterly unhappy intellectual povertywould have made me and how my unhappiness would have reacted on him inthe end. In reality this great and beneficent philanthropy was finallyto blight both our love and our lives. 

"What was I to do? Stand by and see my life and my love ruined or refuseJack for the fortune of a man I did not love? Helen Bond is not thatkind of a woman, I said to myself. I consulted the greatest lawyer Iknew. I put a hypothetical case to him, and asked his opinion in such away as to make him believe he was advising me how to make an unbreakablewill. He told me of provisions and clauses to avoid, particularly inmaking benefactions. That was what I wanted to know. I would put one ofthose clauses in my uncle's will. I practised uncle's writing till Iwas as good a forger of that clause as anyone could have become. I hadpicked out the very words in his own handwriting to practise from. 

"Then I went to Paris and, as you have guessed, learned how to getthings out of a safe like that of uncle's. Before God, all I plannedto do was to get that will, change it, replace it, and trust that unclewould never notice the change. Then when he was gone, I would havecontested the will. I would have got my full share either by courtproceedings or by settlement out of court. You see, I had planned it allout. The school would have been founded--I, we would have founded it. What difference, I said, did thirty millions or fifty millions make toan impersonal school, a school not yet even in existence? The twentymillion dollars or so difference, or even half of it, meant life andlove to me. 

"I had planned to steal the cash in the safe, anything to divertattention from the will and make it look like a plain robbery. I wouldhave done the altering of the will that night and have returned it tothe safe before morning. But it was not to be. I had almost opened thesafe when my uncle entered the room. His anger completely unnerved me, and from the moment I saw him on the floor to this I haven't had a sanethought. I forgot to take the cash, I forgot everything but that will. My only thought was that I must get it and destroy it. I doubt if Icould have altered it with my nerves so upset. There, now you have mywhole story. I am at your mercy. "

"No, " said Kennedy, "believe me, there is a mental statute oflimitations that as far as Jameson and myself are concerned has alreadyerased this affair. Walter, will you find Fletcher?"

I found the professor pacing up and down the gravel walk impatiently. 

"Fletcher, " said Kennedy, "a night's rest is all Miss Bond really needs. It is simply a case of overwrought nerves, and it will pass off ofitself. Still, I would advise a change of scene as soon as possible. Good afternoon, Miss Bond, and my best wishes for your health. "

"Good afternoon, Dr. Kennedy. Good afternoon, Dr. Jameson. "

I for one was glad to make my escape. 

A half-hour later, Kennedy, with well-simulated excitement, was racingme in the car up to the Greenes' again. We literally burst unannouncedinto the tete-a-tete on the porch. 

"Fletcher, Fletcher, " cried Kennedy, "look what Walter and I have justdiscovered in a tin strong-box poked off in the back of your uncle'sdesk!"

Fletcher seized the will and by the dim light that shone through fromthe hall read it hastily. "Thank God, " he cried; "the school is providedfor as I thought. "

"Isn't it glorious!" murmured Helen. 

True to my instinct I muttered, "Another good newspaper yarn killed. "

III. The Bacteriological Detective

Kennedy was deeply immersed in writing a lecture on the chemicalcompositions of various bacterial toxins and antitoxins, a thing whichwas as unfamiliar to me as Kamchatka, but as familiar to Kennedy asBroadway and Forty-second Street. 

"Really, " he remarked, laying down his fountain-pen and lighting hiscigar for the hundredth time, "the more one thinks of how the moderncriminal misses his opportunities the more astonishing it seems. Why dothey stick to pistols, chloroform, and prussic acid when there is such asplendid assortment of refined methods they might employ?"

"Give it up, old man, " I replied helplessly, "unless it is because theyhaven't any imagination. I hope they don't use them. What would becomeof my business if they did? How would you ever get a really dramaticnews feature for the Star out of such a thing? 'Dotted line marks routetaken by fatal germ; cross indicates spot where antitoxin attackedit'--ha! ha! not much for the yellow journals in that, Craig. "

"To my mind, Walter, it would be the height of the dramatic--far moredramatic than sending a bullet into a man. Any fool can shoot a pistolor cut a throat, but it takes brains to be up-to-date. "

"It may be so;" I admitted, and went on reading, while Kennedy scratchedaway diligently on his lecture. I mention this conversation both becauseit bears on my story, by a rather peculiar coincidence, and because itshowed me a new side of Kennedy's amazing researches. He was asmuch interested in bacteria as in chemistry, and the story is one ofbacteria. 

It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later when the buzzer on our halldoor sounded. Imagine my surprise on opening the door to discover theslight figure of what appeared to be a most fascinating young lady whowas heavily veiled. She was in a state almost bordering on hysteria, aseven I, in spite of my usual obtuseness, noticed. 

"Is Professor Kennedy in?" she inquired anxiously. 

"Yes, ma'am;" I replied, opening the door into our study. 

She advanced toward him, repeating her inquiry. 

"I am Professor Kennedy. Pray be seated, " he said. 

The presence of a lady in our apartment was such a novelty that reallyI forgot to disappear, but busied myself straightening the furniture andopening a window to allow the odour of stale tobacco to escape. 

"My name is Eveline Bisbee, " she began. "I have heard, ProfessorKennedy, that you are an adept at getting at the bottom of difficultmysteries. "

"You flatter me;" he said in acknowledgment. "Who was so foolish as totell you that?"

"A friend who has heard of the Kerr Parker case, " she replied. 

"I beg your pardon, " I interrupted, "I didn't mean to intrude. I thinkI'll go out. I'll be back in an hour or two. "

"Please, Mr. Jameson--it is Mr. Jameson, is it not?"

I bowed in surprise. 

"If it is possible I wish you would stay and hear my story. I am toldthat you and Professor Kennedy always work together. "

It was my turn to be embarrassed by the compliment. 

"Mrs. Fletcher, of Great Neck, " she explained, "has told me. I believeProfessor Kennedy performed a great service for the Fletchers, though Ido not know what it was. At any rate, I have come to you with my case, in which I have small hope of obtaining assistance unless you can helpme. If Professor Kennedy cannot solve it, well, I'm afraid nobody can. "She paused a moment, then added, "No doubt you have read of the death ofmy guardian the other day. "

Of course we had. Who did not know that "Jim" Bisbee, the southernCalifornia oil-magnate, had died suddenly of typhoid fever at theprivate hospital of Dr. Bell, where he had been taken from hismagnificent apartment on Riverside Drive? Kennedy and I had discussedit at the time. We had commented on the artificiality of the twentiethcentury. No longer did people have homes; they had apartments, I hadsaid. They didn't fall ill in the good old-fashioned way any more, either in fact, they even hired special rooms to die in. They hiredhalls for funeral services. It was a wonder that they didn't hiregraves. It was all part of our twentieth century break-up of tradition. Indeed we did know about the death of Jim Bisbee. But there was nothingmysterious about it. It was just typical in all its surroundings of thefirst decade of the twentieth century in a great, artificial city--alonely death of a great man surrounded by all that money could buy. 

We had read of his ward, too, the beautiful Miss Eveline Bisbee, adistant relation. As under the heat of the room and her excitement, sheraised her veil, we were very much interested in her. At least, I amsure that even Kennedy had by this time completely forgotten the lectureon toxins. 

"There is something about my guardian's death, " she began in a low andtremulous voice, "that I am sure will bear investigating. It may be onlya woman's foolish fears, but--I haven't told this to a soul till now, except Mrs. Fletcher. My guardian had, as you perhaps know, spent hissummer at his country place at Bisbee Hall, New Jersey, from which hereturned rather suddenly about a week ago. Our friends thought it merelya strange whim that he should return to the city before the summer wasfairly over, but it was not. The day before he returned, his gardenerfell sick of typhoid. That decided Mr. Bisbee to return to the city onthe following day. Imagine his consternation to find his valet strickenthe very next morning. Of course they motored to New York immediately, then he wired to me at Newport, and together we opened his apartment atthe Louis Quinze. 

"But that was not to be the end of it. One after another, the servantsat Bisbee Hall were taken with the disease until five of them were down. Then came the last blow--Mr. Bisbee fell a victim in New York. So farI have been spared. But who knows how much longer it will last? I havebeen so frightened that I haven't eaten a meal in the apartment since Icame back. When I am hungry I simply steal out to a hotel--a differentone every time. I never drink any water except that which I havesurreptitiously boiled in my own room over a gas-stove. Disinfectantsand germicides have been used by the gallon, and still I don't feelsafe. Even the health authorities don't remove my fears. With myguardian's death I had begun to feel that possibly it was over. But no. This morning another servant who came up from the hall last week wastaken sick, and the doctor pronounces that typhoid, too. Will I be thenext? Is it just a foolish fear? Why does it pursue us to New York? Whydidn't it stop at Bisbee Hall?"

I don't think I ever saw a living creature more overcome by horror, byan invisible, deadly fear. That was why it was doubly horrible in a girlso attractive as Eveline Bisbee. As I listened I felt how terrible itmust be to be pursued by such a fear. What must it be to be dogged bya disease as relentlessly as the typhoid had dogged her? If it had beensome great, but visible, tangible peril how gladly I could have faced itmerely for the smile of a woman like this. But it was a peril thatonly knowledge and patience could meet. Instinctively I turned towardKennedy, my own mind being an absolute blank. 

"Is there anyone you suspect of being the cause of such an epidemic?" heasked. "I may as well tell you right now that I have already formedtwo theories--one perfectly natural, the other diabolical. Tell meeverything. "

"Well, I had expected to receive a fortune of one million dollars, freeand clear, by his will and this morning I am informed by his lawyer, James Denny, that a new will had been made. It is still one million. Butthe remainder, instead of going to a number of charities in which he wasknown to be interested, goes to form a trust fund for the Bisbee Schoolof Mechanical Arts, of which Mr. Denny is the sole trustee. Of course, I do not know much about my guardian's interests while he was alive, butit strikes me as strange that he should have changed so radically, and, besides, the new will is so worded that if I die without childrenmy million also goes to this school--location unnamed. I can't helpwondering about it all. "

"Why should you wonder--at least what other reasons have you forwondering?"

"Oh, I can't express them. Maybe after all it's only a woman's sillyintuition. But often I have thought in the past few days about thisillness of my guardian. It was so queer. He was always so careful. Andyou know the rich don't often have typhoid. "

"You have no reason to suppose that it was not typhoid fever of which hedied?"

She hesitated. "No, " she replied, "but if you had known Mr. Bisbeeyou would think it strange, too. He had a horror of infectious andcontagious diseases. His apartment and his country home were models. Nosanitarium could have been more punctilious. He lived what one of hisfriends called an antiseptic life. Maybe I am foolish, but it keepsgetting closer and closer to me now, and--well, I wish you'd look intothe case. Please set my mind at rest and assure me that nothing iswrong, that it is all natural. "

"I will help you, Miss Bisbee. To-morrow night I want to take a tripquietly to Bisbee Hall. You will see that it is all right, that I havethe proper letters so I can investigate thoroughly. "

I shall never forget the mute and eloquent thanks with which she saidgood night after Kennedy's promise. 

Kennedy sat with his eyes shaded under his hand for fully an hour aftershe had left. Then he suddenly jumped up. "Walter, " he said, "let us goover to Dr. Bell's. I know the head nurse there. We may possibly learnsomething. "

As we sat in the waiting-room with its thick Oriental rugs and handsomemahogany furniture, I found myself going back to our conversation ofthe early evening. "By Jove, Kennedy, you were right, " I exclaimed. "Ifthere is anything in this germ-plot idea of hers it is indeed the heightof the dramatic--it is diabolical. No ordinary mortal would ever becapable of it. "

Just then the head nurse came in, a large woman breathing ofgermlessness and cheerfulness in her spotless uniform. We were shownevery courtesy. There was, in fact, nothing to conceal. The visit setat rest my last suspicion that perhaps Jim Bisbee had been poisoned by adrug. The charts of his temperature and the sincerity of the nurse wereabsolutely convincing. It had really been typhoid, and there was nothingto be gained by pursuing that inquiry further. 

Back at the apartment, Craig began packing his suitcase with the fewthings he would need for a journey. "I'm going out to Bisbee Hallto-morrow for a few days, Walter, and if you could find it convenient tocome along I should like to have your assistance. "

"To tell you the truth, Craig, I am afraid to go, " I said. 

"You needn't be. I'm going down to the army post on Governor's Islandfirst to be vaccinated against typhoid. Then I am going to wait a fewhours till it takes effect before going. It's the only place in the citywhere one can be inoculated against it, so far as I know. While threeinoculations are really best, I understand that one is sufficient forordinary protection, and that is all we shall need, if any. "

"You're sure of it?"

"Almost positive. "

"Very well, Craig. I'll go. "

Down at the army post the next morning we had no difficulty in beinginoculated against the disease. The work of immunising our army wasgoing on at that time, and several thousands of soldiers in variousparts of the country had already been vaccinated, with the best ofresults. "Do many civilians come over to be vaccinated?" asked Craig ofMajor Carroll, the surgeon in charge. 

"Not many, for very few have heard of it, " he replied. 

"I suppose you keep a record of them. "

"Only their names--we can't follow them up outside the army, to see howit works. Still, when they come to us as you and Mr. Jameson have donewe are perfectly willing to vaccinate them. The Army Medical Corps takesthe position that if it is good for the army it is good for civil life, and as long as only a few civilians apply we are perfectly willing to doit for a fee covering the cost. "

"And would you let me see the list?"

"Certainly. You may look it over in a moment. "

Kennedy glanced hurriedly through the short list of names, pulled outhis notebook, made an entry, and handed the list back. "Thank you, Major. "

Bisbee Hall was a splendid place set in the heart of a great park whosearea was measured by square miles rather than by acres. But Craig didnot propose to stay there, for he arranged for accommodations in anear-by town, where we were to take our meals also. It was late when wearrived, and we spent a restless night, for the inoculation "took. " Itwasn't any worse than a light attack of the grippe, and in the morningwe were both all right again, after the passing of what is called the"negative phase. " I, for one, felt much safer. 

The town was very much excited over the epidemic at the hall, and if Ihad been wondering why Craig wanted me along my wonder was soon set atrest. He had me scouring the town and country looking up every case orrumour of typhoid for miles around. I made the local weekly paper myheadquarters, and the editor was very obliging. He let me read all hisnews letters from his local correspondent at every crossroads. I wadedthrough accounts of new calves and colts, new fences and barns, who"Sundayed" with his brother, etc. , and soon had a list of all thecases in that part of the country. It was not a long one, but itwas scattered. After I had traced them out, following Kennedy'sinstructions, they showed nothing, except that they were unrelated tothe epidemic at the hall. 

Meanwhile, Kennedy was very busy there. He had a microscope and slidesand test-tubes and chemicals for testing things, and I don't know whatall, for there was not time to initiate me into all the mysteries. Hetested the water from the various driven wells and in the water-tank, and the milk from the cows;--he tried to find out what food had comein from outside, though there was practically none, for the hall wasself-supporting. There was no stone he left unturned. 

When I rejoined him that night he was clearly perplexed. I don't thinkmy report decreased his perplexity, either. 

"There is only one thing left as far as I have been able to discoverafter one day's work, " he said, after we had gone over our activitiesfor the day. "Jim Bisbee never drank the water from his own wells. Healways drank a bottled water shipped down from a camp of his in New YorkState, where he had a remarkable mountain spring. I tested a number ofthe full bottles at the hall, but they were perfectly pure. There wasn'ta trace of the bacillus typhosus in any of them. Then it occurred to methat, after all, that was not the thing to do. I should test the emptyones. But there weren't any empty ones. They told me they had all beentaken down to the freight station yesterday to be shipped back to thecamp. I hope they haven't gone yet. Let's drive around and see if theyare there. "

The freight-master was just leaving, but when he learned we were fromthe hall he consented to let us examine the bottles. They were corkedand in wooden cases, which protected them perfectly. By the light of thestation lamps and the aid of a pocket-lens, Kennedy examined them on theoutside and satisfied himself that after being replaced in the woodencases the bottles themselves had not been handled. 

"Will you let me borrow some of these bottles to-night" he askedthe agent. "I'll give you my word that they will be returned safelyto-morrow. If necessary, I'll get an order for them. "

The station-agent reluctantly yielded; especially as a small greenbanknote figured in the transaction. Craig and I tenderly lifted the bigbottles in their cases into our trap and drove back to our rooms in thehotel. It quite excited the hangers-on to see us drive up with a lot ofempty five-gallon bottles and carry them up-stairs, but I had long agogiven up having any fear of public opinion in carrying out anythingCraig wanted. 

In our room we worked far into the night. Craig carefully swabbed outthe bottom and sides of each bottle by inserting a little piece ofcotton on the end of a long wire. Then he squeezed the water out of thecotton swab on small glass slides coated with agar-agar, or Japaneseseaweed, a medium in which germ-cultures multiply rapidly. He put theslides away in a little oven with an alcohol-lamp which he had broughtalong, leaving them to remain overnight at blood heat. 

I had noticed all this time that he was very particular not to touch anyof the bottles on the outside. As for me, I wouldn't have touched themfor the world. In fact, I was getting so I hesitated to touch anything. I was almost afraid to breathe, though I knew there was no harm in that. However, it was not danger of infection in touching the bottles thatmade Craig so careful. He had noted, in the dim light of the stationlamps, what seemed to be finger-marks on the bottles, and they hadinterested him, in fact, had decided him on a further investigation ofthe bottles. 

"I am now going to bring out these very faint finger-prints on thebottles, " remarked Craig, proceeding with his examination in the betterlight of our room. "Here is some powder known to chemists as 'greypowder'--mercury and chalk. I sprinkle it over the faint markings, so, and then I brush it off with a camel's-hair brush lightly. That bringsout the imprint much more clearly, as you can see. For instance, ifyou place your dry thumb on a piece of white paper you leave no visibleimpression. If grey powder is sprinkled over the spot and then brushedoff a distinct impression is seen. If the impression of the fingers isleft on something soft, like wax, it is often best to use printers' inkto bring out the ridges and patterns of the finger-marks. And so onfor various materials. Quite a science has been built up aroundfinger-prints. 

"I wish I had that enlarging camera which I have in my laboratory. However, my ordinary camera will do, for all I want is to preserve arecord of these marks, and I can enlarge the photographs later. In themorning I will photograph these marks and you can do the developing ofthe films. To-night we'll improvise the bathroom as a dark-room and geteverything ready so that we can start in bright and early. "

We were, indeed, up early. One never has difficulty in getting up earlyin the country: it is so noisy, at least to a city-bred man. City noiseat five A. M. Is sepulchral silence compared with bucolic activity atthat hour. 

There were a dozen negatives which I set about developing after Craighad used up all our films. Meanwhile, he busied himself adjustinghis microscope and test-tubes and getting the agar slides ready forexamination. 

Shirt-sleeves rolled up, I was deeply immersed in my work when I heard ashout in the next room, and the bathroom door flew open. 

"Confound you, Kennedy, do you want to ruin these films!" I cried. 

He shut the door with a bang. "Hurrah, Walter!" he exclaimed. "I think Ihave it, at last. I have just found some most promising colonies of thebacilli on one of my slides. "

I almost dropped the pan of acid I was holding, in my excitement. "Well, " I said, concealing my own surprise, "I've found out something, too. Every one of these finger-prints so far is from the same pair ofhands. "

We scarcely ate any breakfast, and were soon on our way up to the hall. Craig had provided himself at the local stationer's with an inking-pad, such as is used for rubber stamps. At the hall he proceeded to get theimpressions of the fingers and thumbs of all the servants. 

It was quite a long and difficult piece of work to compare thefinger-prints we had taken with those photographed, in spite of the factthat writers descant on the ease with which criminals are traced by thissystem devised by the famous Galton. However, we at last finished thejob between us; or rather Craig finished it, with an occasional remarkfrom me. His dexterity amazed me; it was more than mere book knowledge. 

For a moment we sat regarding each other hopelessly. None of thefinger-prints taken at the hall tallied with the photographed prints. Then Craig rang for the housekeeper, a faithful old soul whom even thetyphoid scare could not budge from her post. 

"Are you sure I have seen all the servants who were at the hall whileMr. Bisbee was here" asked Craig. 

"Why, no, sir--you didn't ask that. You asked to see all who are herenow. There is only one who has left, the cook, Bridget Fallon. She lefta couple of days ago--said she was going back to New York to get anotherjob. Glad enough I was to get rid of her, too, for she was drunk most ofthe time after the typhoid appeared. "

"Well, Walter, I guess we shall have to go back to New York again, then, " exclaimed Kennedy. "Oh, I beg pardon, Mrs. Rawson, forinterrupting. Thank you ever so much. Where did Bridget come from?"

"She came well recommended, sir. Here is the letter in my writing-desk. She had been employed by the Caswell-Joneses at Shelter Island beforeshe came here. "

"I may keep this letter" asked Craig, scanning it quickly. 

"Yes. "

"By the way, where were the bottles of spring water kept"

"In the kitchen. "

"Did Bridget take charge of them?"

"Yes. "

"Did Mr. Bisbee have any guests during the last week that he was here?"

"Only Mr. Denny one night. "

"H'm!" exclaimed Craig. "Well, it will not be so hard for us to unravelthis matter, after all, when we get back to the city. We must make thatnoon train, Walter. There is nothing more for us to do here. "

Emerging from the "Tube" at Ninth Street, Craig hustled me into ataxicab, and in almost no time we were at police headquarters. 

Fortunately, Inspector Barney O'Connor was in and in an amiable mood, too, for Kennedy had been careful that the Central Office received alarge share of credit for the Kerr Parker case. Craig sketched hastilythe details of this new case. O'Connor's face was a study. His honestblue Irish eyes fairly bulged in wonder, and when Craig concluded witha request for help I think O'Connor would have given him anything in theoffice, just to figure in the case. 

"First, I want one of your men to go to the surrogate's office andget the original of the will. I shall return it within a couple ofhours--all I want to do is to make a photographic copy. Then anotherman must find this lawyer, James Denny, and in some way get hisfinger-prints--you must arrange that yourself. And send another fellowup to the employment offices on Fourth Avenue and have him locate thiscook, Bridget Fallon. I want her finger-prints, too. Perhaps she hadbetter be detained, for I don't want her to get away. Oh, and say, O'Connor, do you want to finish this case up like the crack of a whipto-night?"

"I'm game, sir. What of it?"

"Let me see. It is now four o'clock. If you can get hold of allthese people in time I think I shall be ready for the final sceneto-night--say, at nine. You know how to arrange it. Have them allpresent at my laboratory at nine, and I promise we shall have a storythat will get into the morning papers with leaded type on the frontpage. "

"Now, Walter, " he added, as we hurried down to the taxicab again, "Iwant you to drop off at the Department of Health with this card to thecommissioner. I believe you know Dr. Leslie. Well, ask him if heknows anything about this Bridget Fallon. I will go on up-town to thelaboratory and get my apparatus ready. You needn't come up till nine, old fellow, for I shall be busy till then, but be sure when you comethat you bring the record of this Fallon woman if you have to beg, borrow, or steal it. "

I didn't understand it, but I took the card and obeyed implicitly. It isneedless to say that I was keyed up to the greatest pitch of excitementduring my interview with the health commissioner, when I finally got into see him. I hadn't talked to him long before a great light struck me, and I began to see what Craig was driving at. The commissioner saw itfirst. 

"If you don't mind, Mr. Jameson. " he said, after I had told him as muchof my story as I could, "will you call up Professor Kennedy and tell himI'd like very much to be present to-night myself?"

"Certainly I will, " I replied, glad to get my errand done in first-classfashion in that way. 

Things must have been running smoothly, for while I was sitting in ourapartment after dinner, impatiently waiting for half-past eight, when the commissioner had promised to call for me and go up to thelaboratory, the telephone rang. It was Craig. 

"Walter, might I ask a favour of you?" he said. "When the commissionercomes ask him to stop at the Louis Quinze and bring Miss Bisbee up, too. Tell her it is important. No more now. Things are going ahead fine. "

Promptly at nine we were assembled, a curious crowd. The healthcommissioner and the inspector, being members of the same politicalparty, greeted each other by their first names. Miss Bisbee was nervous, Bridget was abusive, Denny was sullen. As for Kennedy, he was, as usual, as cool as a lump of ice. And I--well, I just sat on my feelings to keepmyself quiet. 

At one end of the room Craig had placed a large white sheet such as heused in his stereopticon lectures, while at the top of the tier of seatsthat made a sort of little amphitheatre out of his lecture-room hisstereopticon sputtered. 

"Moving pictures to-night, eh?" said Inspector O'Connor. 

"Not exactly, " said Craig, "though--yes, they will be moving in anothersense. Now, if we are all ready, I'll switch off the electric lights. "

The calcium sputtered some more, and a square of light was thrown on thesheet. 

Kennedy snapped a little announcer such as lecturers use. "Let me inviteyour attention to these enlargements of finger-prints, " he began, asa huge thumb appeared on the screen. "Here we have a series offinger-prints which I will show one after another slowly. They are allof the fingers of the same person, and they were found on some emptybottles of spring water used at Bisbee Hall during the two weeksprevious to the departure of Mr. Bisbee for New York. 

"Here are, in succession, the finger-prints of the various servantsemployed about the house--and of a guest, " added Craig, with a slightchange of tone. "They differ markedly from the finger-prints on theglass, " he continued, as one after another appeared, "all except thislast one. That is identical. It is, Inspector, what we call a compositetype of finger-print--in this case a combination of what is called the'loop' and 'whorl' types. "

No sound broke the stillness save the sputtering of the oxygen on thecalcium of the stereopticon. 

"The owner of the fingers from which these prints were made is in thisroom. It was from typhoid germs on these fingers that the fever wasintroduced into the drinking water at Bisbee Hall. "

Kennedy paused to emphasise the statement, then continued. "I am nowgoing to ask Dr. Leslie to give us a little talk on a recent discoveryin the field of typhoid fever--you understand, Commissioner, what Imean, I believe?"

"Perfectly. Shall I mention names?"

"No, not yet. "

"Well, " began Dr. Leslie, clearing his throat, "within the past year ortwo we have made a most weird and startling discovery in typhoid fever. We have found what we now call 'typhoid carriers'--persons who do nothave the disease themselves, perhaps never have had it, but who areliterally living test-tubes of the typhoid bacillus. It is positivelyuncanny. Everywhere they go they scatter the disease. Down at thedepartment we have the records of a number of such instances, and ourmen in the research laboratories have come to the conclusion that, farfrom being of rare occurrence, these cases are comparatively common. Ihave in mind one particular case of a servant girl, who, during the pastfive or six years, has been employed in several families. 

"In every family typhoid fever has later broken out. Experts have tracedout at least thirty, cases and several deaths due to this one person. In another case we found an epidemic up in Harlem to be due to a typhoidcarrier on a remote farm in Connecticut. This carrier, innocentlyenough, it is true, contaminated the milk-supply coming from that farm. The result was over fifty cases of typhoid here in this city. 

"However, to return to the case of the servant I have mentioned. Lastspring we had her under surveillance, but as there was no law by whichwe could restrain her permanently she is still at large. I think oneof the Sunday papers at the time had an account of her--they calledher 'Typhoid Bridget, ' and in red ink she was drawn across the page ingruesome fashion, frying the skulls of her victims in a frying-pan overa roaring fire. That particular typhoid carrier, I understand--"

"Excuse me, Commissioner, if I interrupt, but I think we have carriedthis part of the programme far enough to be absolutely convincing, " saidCraig. "Thank you very much for the clear way in which you have put it. "

Craig snapped the announcer, and a letter appeared on the screen. Hesaid nothing, but let us read it through. 

To whom it may concern:

This is to certify that Bridget Fallon has been employed in my family atShelter Island for the past season and that I have found her a reliableservant and an excellent cook. 

 A. ST. JOHN CASWELL-JONES. 

"Before God, Mr. Kennedy, I'm innocent, " screeched Bridget. "Don't haveme arrested. I'm innocent. I'm innocent. "

Craig gently, but firmly, forced her back into her chair. 

Again the announcer snapped. This time the last page of Mr. Bisbee'swill appeared on the sheet, ending with his signature and the witnesses. 

"I'm now going to show these two specimens of handwriting very greatlyenlarged, " he said, as the stereopticon plates were shifted again. 

"An author of many scientific works, Dr. Lindsay Johnson, of London, has recently elaborated a new theory with regard to individuality inhandwriting. He maintains that in certain diseases a person's pulsebeats are individual, and that no one suffering from any such diseasecan control, even for a brief space of time, the frequency or peculiarirregularities of his heart's action, as shown by a chart recording hispulsation. Such a chart is obtained for medical purposes by means of asphygmograph, an instrument fitted to the patient's forearm and suppliedwith a needle, which can be so arranged as to record automatically ona prepared sheet of paper the peculiar force and frequency of thepulsation. Or the pulsation may be simply observed in the rise and fallof a liquid in a tube. Dr. Johnson holds the opinion that a pen inthe hand of a writer serves, in a modified degree, the same end as theneedle in the first-named form of the sphygmograph and that in sucha person's handwriting one can see by projecting the letters, greatlymagnified, on a screen, the scarcely perceptible turns and quiversmade in the lines by the spontaneous action of that person's peculiarpulsation. 

"To prove this, the doctor carried out an experiment at Charing CrossHospital. At his request a number of patients suffering from heart andkidney diseases wrote the Lord's Prayer in their ordinary handwriting. The different manuscripts were then taken and examined microscopically. By throwing them, highly magnified, on a screen, the jerks orinvoluntary motions due to the patient's peculiar pulsations weredistinctly visible. The handwriting of persons in normal health, saysDr. Johnson, does not always show their pulse beats. What one can say, however, is that when a document, purporting to be written by a certainperson, contains traces of pulse beats and the normal handwriting ofthat person does not show them, then clearly that document is a forgery. 

"Now, in these two specimens of handwriting which we have enlarged it isplain that the writers of both of them suffered from a certain peculiardisease of the heart. Moreover, I am prepared to show that the pulsebeats exhibited in the case of certain pen-strokes in one of thesedocuments are exhibited in similar strokes in the other. Furthermore, Ihave ascertained from his family physician, whose affidavit I have here, that Mr. Bisbee did not suffer from this or any other form of heartdisease. Mr. Caswell-Jones, in addition to wiring me that he refused towrite Bridget Fallon a recommendation after the typhoid broke out in hiscountry house, also says he does not suffer from heart disease in anyform. From the tremulous character of the letters and figures in boththese documents, which when magnified is the more easily detected, Itherefore conclude that both are forgeries, and I am ready to go fartherand say that they are forgeries from the same hand. 

"It usually takes a couple of weeks after infection for typhoid todevelop, a time sufficient in itself to remove suspicion from acts whichmight otherwise be scrutinised very carefully if happening immediatelybefore the disease developed. I may add, also, that it is well knownthat stout people do very poorly when they contract typhoid, especiallyif they are old. Mr. Bisbee was both stout and old. To contract typhoidwas for him a virtual death-warrant. Knowing all these facts, a certainperson purposely sought out a crafty means of introducing typhoid feverinto Mr. Bisbee's family. That person, furthermore, was inoculatedagainst typhoid three times during the month before the disease wasdevilishly and surreptitiously introduced into Bisbee Hall, in order toprotect himself or herself should it become necessary for that person tovisit Bisbee Hall. That person, I believe, is the one who suffered froman aneurism of the heart, the writer, or rather the forger, of the twodocuments I have shown, by one of which he or she was to profit greatlyby the death of Mr. Bisbee and the founding of an alleged school in adistant part of the country--a subterfuge, if you recall, used in atleast one famous case for which the convicted perpetrator is now under alife sentence in Sing Sing. 

"I will ask Dr. Leslie to take this stethoscope and examine the heartsof everyone in the room and tell me whether there is anyone heresuffering from an aneurism. "

The calcium light ceased to sputter. One person after another wasexamined by the health commissioner. Was it merely my imagination, ordid I really hear a heart beating with wild leaps as if it would burstthe bonds of its prison and make its escape if possible? Perhaps itwas only the engine of the commissioner's machine out on the campusdriveway. I don't know. At any rate, he went silently from one to theother, betraying not even by his actions what he discovered with thestethoscope. The suspense was terrible. I felt Miss Bisbee's handinvoluntarily grasp my arm convulsively. Without disturbing the silence, I reached a glass of water standing near me on Craig's lecture-table andhanded it to her. 

The commissioner was bending over the lawyer, trying to adjust thestethoscope better to his ears. The lawyer's head was resting heavilyon his hand, and he was heaped up in an awkward position in the crampedlecture-room seat. It seemed an age as Dr. Leslie tried to adjust thestethoscope. Even Craig felt the excitement. While the commissionerhesitated, Kennedy reached over and impatiently switched on the electriclight in full force. 

As the light flooded the room, blinding us for the instant, the largeform of Dr. Leslie stood between us and the lawyer. 

"What does the stethoscope tell you, Doctor?" asked Craig, leaningforward expectantly. He was as unprepared for the answer as any of us. 

"It tells me that a higher court than those of New York has passedjudgment on this astounding criminal. The aneurism has burst. "

I felt a soft weight fall on my shoulder. The Morning Star did not havethe story, after all. I missed the greatest "scoop" of my life seeingEveline Bisbee safely to her home after she had recovered from the shockof Denny's exposure and punishment. 

IV. The Deadly Tube

"For Heaven's sake, Gregory, what is the matter?" asked Craig Kennedyas a tall, nervous man stalked into our apartment one evening. "Jameson, shake hands with Dr. Gregory. What's the matter, Doctor? Surely yourX-ray work hasn't knocked you out like this?"

The doctor shook hands with me mechanically. His hand was icy. "The blowhas fallen, " he exclaimed, as he sank limply into a chair and tossed anevening paper over to Kennedy. 

In red ink on the first page, in the little square headed "Latest News, "Kennedy read the caption, "Society Woman Crippled for Life by X-RayTreatment. "

"A terrible tragedy was revealed in the suit begun today, " continued thearticle, "by Mrs. Huntington Close against Dr. James Gregory, an X-rayspecialist with offices at Madison Avenue, to recover damages forinjuries which Mrs. Close alleges she received while under his care. Several months ago she began a course of X-ray treatment to remove abirthmark on her neck. In her complaint Mrs. Close alleges that Dr. Gregory has carelessly caused X-ray dermatitis, a skin disease ofcancerous nature, and that she has also been rendered a nervous wreckthrough the effects of the rays. Simultaneously with filing the suit sheleft home and entered a private hospital. Mrs. Close is one of the mostpopular hostesses in the smart set, and her loss will be keenly felt. "

"What am I to do, Kennedy?" asked the doctor imploringly. "You rememberI told you the other day about this case--that there was something queerabout it, that after a few treatments I was afraid to carry on any moreand refused to do so? She really has dermatitis and nervous prostration, exactly as she alleges in her complaint. But, before Heaven, Kennedy, I can't see how she could possibly have been so affected by the fewtreatments I gave her. And to-night, just as I was leaving the office, I received a telephone call from her husband's attorney, Lawrence, verykindly informing me that the case would be pushed to the limit. I tellyou, it looks black for me. "

"What can they do?"

"Do? Do you suppose any jury is going to take enough expert testimonyto outweigh the tragedy of a beautiful woman? Do? Why, they can ruinme, even if I get a verdict of acquittal. They can leave me witha reputation for carelessness that no mere court decision can everovercome. "

"Gregory, you can rely on me, " said Kennedy. "Anything I can do to helpyou I will gladly do. Jameson and I were on the point of going out todinner. Join us, and after that we will go down to your office and talkthings over. "

"You are really too kind, " murmured the doctor. The air of relief thatwas written on his face was pathetically eloquent. 

"Now not a word about the case till we have had dinner, " commandedCraig. "I see very plainly that you have been worrying about the blowfor a long time. Well, it has fallen. The neat thing to do is to lookover the situation and see where we stand. "

Dinner over, we rode down-town in the subway, and Gregory ushered usinto an office-building on Madison Avenue, where he had a very handsomesuite of several rooms. We sat own in his waiting-room to discuss theaffair. 

"It is indeed a very tragic case, " began Kennedy, "almost more tragicthan if the victim had been killed outright. Mrs. Huntington Closeis--or rather I suppose I should say was--one of the famous beautiesof the city. From what the paper says, her beauty has been hopelesslyruined by this dermatitis, which, I understand, Doctor, is practicallyincurable. "

Dr. Gregory nodded, and I could not help following his eyes as he lookedat his own rough and scarred hands. 

"Also, " continued Craig, with his eyes half closed and his finger-tipstogether, as if, he were taking a mental inventory of the facts in thecase, "her nerves are so shattered that she will be years in recovering, if she ever recovers. "

"Yes, " said the doctor simply. "I myself, for instance, am subject tothe most unexpected attacks of neuritis. But, of course, I am under theinfluence of the rays fifty or sixty times a day, while she had only afew treatments at intervals of many days. "

"Now, on the other hand, " resumed Craig, "I know you, Gregory, verywell. Only the other day, before any of this came out, you told me thewhole story with your fears as to the outcome. I know that that lawyerof Close's has been keeping this thing hanging over your head for along time. And I also know that you are one of the most careful X-rayoperators in the city. If this suit goes against you, one of the mostbrilliant men of science in America will be ruined. Now, having saidthis much, let me ask you to describe just exactly what treatments yougave Mrs. Close. "

The doctor led us into his X-ray room adjoining. A number of X-ray tubeswere neatly put away in a great glass case, and at one end of the roomwas an operating-table with an X-ray apparatus suspended over it. Aglance at the room showed that Kennedy's praise was not exaggerated. 

"How many treatments did you give Mrs. Close?" asked Kennedy. 

"Not over a dozen, I should say;" replied Gregory. "I have a record ofthem and the dates, which I will give you presently. Certainly they werenot numerous enough or frequent enough to have caused a dermatitis suchas she has. Besides, look here. I have an apparatus which, for safetyto the patient, has few equals in the country. This big lead-glass bowl, which is placed over my X-ray tube when in use, cuts off the rays atevery point except exactly where they are needed. "

He switched on the electric current, and the apparatus began to sputter. The pungent odour of ozone from the electric discharge filled the room. Through the lead-glass bowl I could see the X-ray tube inside suffusedwith its peculiar, yellowish-green light, divided into two hemispheresof different shades. That, I knew, was the cathode ray, not the X-ray, for the X-ray itself, which streams outside the tube, is invisible tothe human eye. The doctor placed in our hands a couple of fluoroscopes, an apparatus by which X-rays can be detected. It consists simply of aclosed box with an opening to which the eyes are placed. The oppositeend of the box is a piece of board coated with a salt such asplatino-barium cyanide. When the X-ray strikes this salt it makes itglow, or fluoresce, and objects held between the X-ray tube and thefluoroscope cast shadows according to the density of the parts which theX-rays penetrate. 

With the lead-glass bowl removed, the X-ray tube sent forth itswonderful invisible radiation and made the back of the fluoroscopeglow with light. I could see the bones of my fingers as I held them upbetween the X-ray tube and the fluoroscope. But with the lead-glass bowlin position over the tube, the fluoroscope was simply a black box intowhich I looked and saw nothing. So very little of the radiation escapedfrom the bowl that it was negligible--except at one point where therewas an opening in the bottom of the bowl to allow the rays to passfreely through exactly on the spot on the patient where they were to beused. 

"The dermatitis, they say, has appeared all over her body, particularlyon her head and shoulders, " added Dr. Gregory. "Now I have shown you myapparatus to impress on you how really impossible it would have beenfor her to contract it from her treatments here. I've made thousandsof exposures with never an X-ray burn before--except to myself. As formyself, I'm as careful as I can be, but you can see I am under the raysvery often, while the patient is only under them once in a while. "

To illustrate his care he pointed out to us a cabinet directly back ofthe operating-table, lined with thick sheets of lead. From this cabinethe conducted most of his treatments as far as possible. A littlepeep-hole enabled him to see the patient and the X-ray apparatus, whilean arrangement of mirrors and a fluorescent screen enabled him tosee exactly what the X-rays were disclosing, without his leaving thelead-lined cabinet. 

"I can think of no more perfect protection for either patient oroperator, " said Kennedy admiringly. "By the way, did Mrs. Close comealone?"

"No, the first time Mr. Close came with her. After that, she came withher French maid. "

The next day we paid a visit to Mrs. Close herself at the privatehospital. Kennedy had been casting about in his mind for an excuse tosee her, and I had suggested that we go as reporters from the Star. Fortunately after sending up my card on which I had written Craig's namewe were at length allowed to go up to her room. 

We found the patient reclining in an easy chair, swathed in bandages, a wreck of her former self. I felt the tragedy keenly. All that socialposition and beauty had meant to her had been suddenly blasted. 

"You will pardon my presumption, " began Craig, "but, Mrs. Close, Iassure you that I am actuated by the best of motives. We represent theNew York Star--"

"Isn't it terrible enough that I should suffer so, " she interrupted, "but must the newspapers hound me, too?"

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Close, " said Craig, "but you must be aware thatthe news of your suit of Dr. Gregory has now become public property. Icouldn't stop the Star, much less the other papers, from talking aboutit. But I can and will do this, Mrs. Close. I will see that justice isdone to you and all others concerned. Believe me, I am not here as ayellow journalist to make newspaper copy out of your misfortune. I amhere to get at the truth sympathetically. Incidentally, I may be able torender you a service, too. "

"You can render me no service except to expedite the suit against thatcareless doctor--I hate him. "

"Perhaps, " said Craig. "But suppose someone else should be proved tohave been really responsible? Would you still want to press the suit andlet the guilty person escape?"

She bit her lip. "What is it you want of me?" she asked. 

"I merely want permission to visit your rooms at your home and to talkwith your maid. I do not mean to spy on you, far from it; but consider, Mrs. Close, if I should be able to get at the bottom of this thing, findout the real cause of your misfortune, perhaps show that you are thevictim of a cruel wrong rather than of carelessness, would you not bewilling to let me go ahead? I am frank to tell you that I suspect thereis more to this affair than you yourself have any idea of. "

"No, you are mistaken, Mr. Kennedy. I know the cause of it. It was mylove of beauty. I couldn't resist the temptation to get rid of even aslight defect. If I had left well enough alone I should not be here now. A friend recommended Dr. Gregory to my husband, who took me there. My husband wishes me to remain at home, but I tell him I feel morecomfortable here in the hospital. I shall never go to that houseagain--the memory of the torture of sleepless nights in my room therewhen I felt my good looks going, going"--she shuddered--"is such thatI can never forget it. He says I would be better off there, but no, Icannot go. Still, " she continued wearily, "there can be no harm in yourtalking to my maid. "

Kennedy noted attentively what she was saying. "I thank you, Mrs. Close, " he replied. "I am sure you will not regret your permission. Would you be so kind as to give me a note to her?"

She rang, dictated a short note to a nurse, signed it, and languidlydismissed us. 

I don't know that I ever felt as depressed as I did after that interviewwith one who had entered a living death to ambition, for while Craig haddone all the talking I had absorbed nothing but depression. I vowed thatif Gregory or anybody else was responsible I would do my share towardbringing on him retribution. 

The Closes lived in a splendid big house in the Murray Hill section. Thepresentation of the note quickly brought Mrs. Close's maid down to us. She had not gone to the hospital because Mrs. Close had considered theservices of the trained nurses quite sufficient. 

Yes, the maid had noticed how her mistress had been failing, had noticedit long ago, in fact almost at the time when she had begun the X-raytreatment. She had seemed to improve once when she went away for a fewdays, but that was at the start, and directly after her return she grewworse again, until she was no longer herself. 

"Did Dr. Gregory, the X-ray specialist, ever attend Mrs. Close at herhome, in her room?" asked Craig. 

"Yes, once, twice, he call, but he do no good, " she said with her Frenchaccent. 

"Did Mrs. Close have other callers?"

"But, m'sieur, everyone in society has many. What does m'sieur mean?"

"Frequent callers--a Mr. Lawrence, for instance?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Lawrence frequently. "

"When Mr. Close was at home?"

"Yes, on business and on business, too, when he was not at home. He isthe attorney, m'sieur. "

"How did Mrs. Close receive him?"

"He is the attorney, m'sieur, " Marie repeated persistently. 

"And he, did he always call on business?"

"Oh, yes, always on business, but well, madame, she was a very beautifulwoman. Perhaps he like beautiful women--eh bien? That was before theDoctor Gregory treated madame. After the doctor treated madame M'sieurLawrence do not call so often. That's all. "

"Are you thoroughly devoted to Mrs. Close? Would you do a favour forher?" asked Craig point-blank. 

"Sir, I would give my life, almost, for madame. She was always so goodto me. "

"I don't ask you to give your life for her, Marie, " said Craig, "but youcan do her a great service, a very great service. "

"I will do it. "

"To-night, " said Craig, "I want you to sleep in Mrs. Close's room. Youcan do so, for I know that Mr. Close is living at the St. Francis Clubuntil his wife returns from the sanitarium. To-morrow morning come to mylaboratory"--Craig handed her his card--"and I will tell you what to donext. By the way, don't say anything to anyone in the house about it, and keep a sharp watch on the actions of any of the servants who may gointo Mrs. Close's room. "

"Well, " said Craig, "there is nothing more to be done immediately. " Wehad once more regained the street and were walking up-town. We walked insilence for several blocks. 

"Yes, " mused Craig, "there is something you can do, after all, Walter. Iwould like you to look up Gregory and Close and Lawrence. I alreadyknow something about them. But you can find out a good deal with yournewspaper connections. I would like to have every bit of scandal thathas ever been connected with them, or with Mrs. Close, or, " he addedsignificantly, "with any other woman. It isn't necessary to say that nota breath of it must be published--yet. "

I found a good deal of gossip, but very little of it, indeed, seemed tome at the time to be of importance. Dropping in at the St. FrancisClub, where I had some friends, I casually mentioned the troubles of theHuntington Closes. I was surprised to learn that Close spent little ofhis time at the Club, none at home, and only dropped into the hospitalto make formal inquiries as to his wife's condition. It then occurredto me to drop into the office of Society Squibs, whose editor I hadlong known. The editor told me, with that nameless look of the cynicalscandalmonger, that if I wanted to learn anything about HuntingtonClose I had best watch Mrs. Frances Tulkington, a very wealthy Westerndivorcee about whom the smart set were much excited, particularly thosewhose wealth made it difficult to stand the pace of society as it wasgoing at present. 

"And before the tragedy, " said the editor with another nameless look, asif he were imparting a most valuable piece of gossip, "it was the talkof the town, the attention that Close's lawyer was paying to Mrs. Close. But to her credit let me say that she never gave us a chance to hintat anything, and--well, you know us; we don't need much to make snappysociety news. "

The editor then waged even more confidential, for if I am anything atall, I am a good listener, and I have found that often by sitting tightand listening I can get more than if I were a too-eager questioner. 

"It really was a shame, --the way that man Lawrence played his game, " hewent on. "I understand that it was he who introduced Close to Mrs. T. They were both his clients. Lawrence had fought her case in the courtswhen she sued old Tulkington for divorce, and a handsome settlementhe got for her, too. They say his fee ran up into the hundredthousands--contingent, you know. I don't know what his game was"--herehe lowered his voice to a whisper "but they say Close owes him a gooddeal of money. You can figure it out for yourself as you like. Now, I'vetold you all I know. Come in again, Jameson, when you want some morescandal, and remember me to the boys down on the Star. "

The following day the maid visited Kennedy at his laboratory while I wasreporting to him on the result of my investigations. 

She looked worn and haggard. She had spent a sleepless night and beggedthat Kennedy would not ask her to repeat the experiment. 

"I can promise you, Marie, " he said, "that you will rest betterto-night. But you must spend one more night in Mrs. Close's room. By theway, can you arrange for me to go through the room this morning when yougo back?"

Marie said she could, and an hour or so later Craig and I quietlyslipped into the Close residence under her guidance. He was carryingsomething that looked like a miniature barrel, and I had another packagewhich he had given me, both carefully wrapped up. The butler eyed ussuspiciously, but Marie spoke a few words to him and I think showed himMrs. Close's note. Anyhow he said nothing. 

Within the room that the unfortunate woman had occupied Kennedy tookthe coverings off the packages. It was nothing but a portable electricvacuum cleaner, which he quickly attached and set running. Up and downthe floor, around and under the bed he pushed the cleaner. He usedthe various attachments to clean the curtains, the walls, and even thefurniture. Particularly did he pay attention to the base board onthe wall back of the bed. Then he carefully removed the dust from thecleaner and sealed it up in a leaden box. 

He was about to detach and pack up the cleaner when another idea seemedto occur to him. "Might as well make a thorough job of it, Walter, " hesaid, adjusting the apparatus again. "I've cleaned everything but themattress and the brass bars behind the mattress on the bed. NowI'll tackle them. I think we ought to go into the suction-cleaningbusiness--more money in it than in being a detective, I'll bet. "

The cleaner was run over and under the mattress and along every crackand cranny of the brass bed. This done and this dust also carefullystowed away, we departed, very much to the mystification of Marie and, Icould not help feeling, of other eyes that peered in through keyholes orcracks in doors. 

"At any rate, " said Kennedy exultingly, "I think we have stolen a marchon them. I don't believe they were prepared for this, not at least atthis stage in the game. Don't ask me any questions, Walter. Then youwill have no secrets to keep if anyone should try to pry them loose. Only remember that this man Lawrence is a shrewd character. "

The next day Marie came, looking even more careworn than before. 

"What's the matter, mademoiselle?" asked Craig. "Didn't you pass abetter night?"

"Oh, mon Dieu, I rest well, yes. But this morning, while I am atbreakfast, Mr. Close send for me. He say that I am discharged. Someservant tell of your visit and he verry angr-ry. And now what is tobecome of me--will madame his wife give a recommendation now?"

"Walter, we have been discovered, " exclaimed Craig with considerablevexation. Then he remembered the poor girl who had been an involuntarysacrifice to our investigation. Turning to her he said: "Marie, I knowseveral very good families, and I am sure you will not suffer for whatyou have done by being faithful to your mistress. Only be patient a fewdays. Go live with some of your folks. I will see that you are placedagain. "

The girl was profuse in her thanks as she dried her tears and departed. 

"I hadn't anticipated having my hand forced so soon, " said Craig aftershe had gone, leaving her address. "However, we are on the right track. What was it that you were going to tell me when Marie came in?"

"Something that may be very important, Craig, " I said, "though I don'tunderstand it myself. Pressure is being brought to bear on the Star tokeep this thing out of the papers, or at least to minimise it. "

"I'm not surprised, " commented Craig. "What do you mean by pressurebeing brought?"

"Why, Close's lawyer, Lawrence, called up the editor this morning--Idon't suppose that you know, but he has some connection with theinterests which control the Star--and said that the activity of one ofthe reporters from the Star, Jameson by name, was very distasteful toMr. Close and that this reporter was employing a man named Kennedy toassist him. 

"I don't understand it, Craig;" I confessed, "but here one day they givethe news to the papers, and two days later they almost threaten us withsuit if we don't stop publishing it. "

"It is perplexing, " said Craig, with the air of one who was not a bitperplexed, but rather enlightened. 

He pulled down the district telegraph messenger lever three times, andwe sat in silence for a while. 

"However, " he resumed, "I shall be ready for them to-night. "

I said nothing. Several minutes elapsed. Then the messenger rapped onthe door. 

"I want these two notes delivered right away, " said Craig to the boy;"here's a quarter for you. Now mind you don't get interested in adetective story and forget the notes. If you are back here quickly withthe receipts I'll give you another quarter. Now scurry along. "

Then, after the boy had gone, he said casually to me: "Two notes toClose and Gregory, asking them to be present with their attorneysto-night. Close will bring Lawrence, and Gregory will bring a younglawyer named Asche, a very clever fellow. The notes are so worded thatthey can hardly refuse the invitation. "

Meanwhile I carried out an assignment for the Star, and telephoned mystory in so as to be sure of being with Craig at the crucial moment. ForI was thoroughly curious about his next move in the game. I foundhim still in his laboratory attaching two coils of thin wire to theconnections on the outside of a queer-looking little black box. 

"What's that" I asked, eyeing the sinister looking little boxsuspiciously. "An infernal machine? You're not going to blow the culpritinto eternity, I hope. "

"Never mind what it is, Walter. You'll find that out in due time. It mayor it may not be an infernal machine of a different sort than any youhave probably ever heard of. The less you know now the less likely youare to give anything away by a look or an act. Come now, make yourselfuseful as well as ornamental. Take these wires and lay them in thecracks of the floor, and be careful not to let them show. A little dustover them will conceal them beautifully. "

Craig now placed the black box back of one of the chairs well downtoward the floor, where it could hardly have been perceived unless onewere suspecting something of the sort. While he was doing so I ran thewires across the floor, and around the edge of the room to the door. 

"There, " he said, taking the wires from me. "Now I'll complete the jobby carrying them into the next room. And while I'm doing it, go over thewires again and make sure they are absolutely concealed. "

That night six men gathered in Kennedy's laboratory. In my utterignorance of what was about to happen I was perfectly calm, and so wereall the rest, except Gregory. He was easily the most nervous of us all, though his lawyer Asche tried repeatedly to reassure him. 

"Mr. Close, " began Kennedy, "if you and Mr. Lawrence will sit over hereon this side of the room while Dr. Gregory and Mr. Asche sit on theopposite side with Mr. Jameson in the middle, I think both of youopposing parties will be better suited. For I apprehend that at variousstages in what I am about to say both you, Mr. Close, and you, Dr. Gregory, will want to consult your attorneys. That, of course, would beembarrassing, if not impossible, should you be sitting near each other. Now, if we are ready, I shall begin. "

Kennedy placed a small leaden casket on the table of his lecture hall. "In this casket, " he commenced solemnly, "there is a certain substancewhich I have recovered from the dust swept up by a vacuum cleaner in theroom of Mrs. Close. "

One could feel the very air of the room surcharged with excitement. Craig drew on a pair of gloves and carefully opened the casket. With histhumb and forefinger he lifted out a glass tube and held it gingerlyat arm's length. My eyes were riveted on it, for the bottom of the tubeglowed with a dazzling point of light. 

Both Gregory and his attorney and Close and Lawrence whispered to eachother when the tube was displayed, as indeed they did throughout thewhole exhibition of Kennedy's evidence. 

"No infernal machine was ever more subtle, " said Craig, "than the tubewhich I hold in my hand. The imagination of the most sensational writerof fiction might well be thrilled with the mysteries of this fatal tubeand its power to work fearful deeds. A larger quantity of this substancein the tube would produce on me, as I now hold it, incurable burns, just as it did on its discoverer before his death. A smaller amount, of course, would not act so quickly. The amount in this tube, ifdistributed about, would produce the burns inevitably, providing Iremained near enough for a long-enough time. "

Craig paused a moment to emphasise his remarks. 

"Here in my hand, gentlemen, I hold the price of a woman's beauty. "

He stopped again for several moments, then resumed. 

"And now, having shown it to you, for my own safety I will place it backin its leaden casket. "

Drawing off his gloves, he proceeded. 

"I have found out by a cablegram to-day that seven weeks ago an orderfor one hundred milligrams of radium bromide at thirty-five dollars amilligram from a certain person in America was filled by a corporationdealing in this substance. "

Kennedy said this with measured words, and I felt a thrill run throughme as he developed his case. 

"At that same time, Mrs. Close began a series of treatments withan X-ray specialist in New York, " pursued Kennedy. "Now, it is notgenerally known outside scientific circles, but the fact is that intheir physiological effects the X-ray and radium are quite one andthe same. Radium possesses this advantage, however, that no elaborateapparatus is necessary for its use. And, in addition, the emanation fromradium is steady and constant, whereas the X-ray at best varies slightlywith changing conditions of the current and vacuum in the X-ray tube. Still, the effects on the body are much the same. 

"A few days before this order was placed I recall the following despatchwhich appeared in the New York papers. I will read it. 

"'Liege, Belgium, Oct. --, 1910. What is believed to be the firstcriminal case in which radium figures as a death-dealing agent isengaging public attention at this university town. A wealthy oldbachelor, Pailin by name, was found dead in his flat. A stroke ofapoplexy was at first believed to have caused his death, but a closeexamination revealed a curious discolouration of his skin. A specialistcalled in to view the body gave as his opinion that the old man had beenexposed for a long time to the emanations of X-ray or radium. The policetheory is that M. Pailin was done to death by a systematic applicationof either X-rays or radium by a student in the university who roomednext to him. The student has disappeared. '

"Now here, I believe, was the suggestion which this American criminalfollowed, for I cut it out of the paper rather expecting sooner or laterthat some clever person would act on it. I have thoroughly examined theroom of Mrs. Close. She herself told me she never wanted to return toit, that her memory of sleepless nights in it was too vivid. Thatserved to fix the impression that I had already formed from readingthis clipping. Either the X-ray or radium had caused her dermatitisand nervousness. Which was it? I wished to be sure that I would make nomistake. Of course I knew it was useless to look for an X-ray machine inor near Mrs. Close's room. Such a thing could never have been concealed. The alternative? Radium! Ah! that was different. I determined onan experiment. Mrs. Close's maid was prevailed on to sleep in hermistress's room. Of course radiations of brief duration would do her nopermanent harm, although they would produce their effect, nevertheless. In one night the maid became extremely nervous. If she had stayed underthem several nights no doubt the beginning of a dermatitis would haveaffected her, if not more serious trouble. A systematic application, covering weeks and months, might in the end even have led to death. 

"The next day I managed, as I have said, to go over the room thoroughlywith a vacuum cleaner--a new one of my own which I had bought myself. But tests of the dust which I got from the floors, curtains, andfurniture showed nothing at all. As a last thought I had, however, cleaned the mattress of the bed and the cracks and crevices in the brassbars. Tests of that dust showed it to be extremely radioactive. I hadthe dust dissolved, by a chemist who understands that sort of thing, recrystallised, and the radium salts were extracted from the refuse. Thus I found that I had recovered all but a very few milligrams of theradium that had been originally purchased in London. Here it is in thisdeadly tube in the leaden casket. 

"It is needless to add that the night after I had cleaned out thisdeadly element the maid slept the sleep of the just--and would have beenall right when next I saw her but for the interference of the unjust onwhom I had stolen a march. "

Craig paused while the lawyers whispered again to their clients. Then hecontinued: "Now three persons in this room had an opportunity to secretethe contents of this deadly tube in the crevices of the metal work ofMrs. Close's bed. One of these persons must have placed an order througha confidential agent in London to purchase the radium from the EnglishRadium Corporation. One of these persons had a compelling motive, something to gain by using this deadly element. The radium in this tubein the casket was secreted, as I have said, in the metal work of Mrs. Close's bed, not in large enough quantities to be immediately fatal, but mixed with dust so as to produce the result more slowly but noless surely, and thus avoid suspicion. At the same time Mrs. Close waspersuaded--I will not say by whom--through her natural pride, to take acourse of X-ray treatment for a slight defect. That would further serveto divert suspicion. The fact is that a more horrible plot could hardlyhave been planned or executed. This person sought to ruin her beauty togain a most selfish and despicable end. "

Again Craig paused to let his words sink into our minds. 

"Now I wish to state that anything you gentlemen may say will be usedagainst you. That is why I have asked you to bring your attorneys. You may consult with them, of course, while I am getting ready my nextdisclosure. "

As Kennedy had developed his points in the case I had been more and moreamazed. But I had not failed to notice how keenly Lawrence was followinghim. 

With half a sneer on his astute face, Lawrence drawled: "I cannotsee that you have accomplished anything by this rather extraordinarysummoning of us to your laboratory. The evidence is just as blackagainst Dr. Gregory as before. You may think you're clever, Kennedy, but on the very statement of facts as you have brought them out there isplenty of circumstantial evidence against Gregory--more than therewas before. As for anyone else in the room, I can't see that you haveanything on us--unless perhaps this new evidence you speak of mayimplicate Asche, or Jameson, " he added, including me in a wave of hishand, as if he were already addressing a jury. "It's my opinion thattwelve of our peers would be quite as likely to bring in a verdict ofguilty against them as against anyone else even remotely connected withthis case, except Gregory. No, you'll have to do better than this inyour next case, if you expect to maintain that so-called reputation ofyours for being a professor of criminal science. "

As for Close, taking his cue from his attorney, he scornfully added: "Icame to find out some new evidence against the wretch who wrecked thebeauty of my wife. All I've got is a tiresome lecture on X-rays andradium. I suppose what you say is true. Well, it only bears out what Ithought before. Gregory treated my wife at home, after he saw the damagehis office treatments had done. I guess he was capable of making acomplete job out of it--covering up his carelessness by getting ridof the woman who was such a damning piece of evidence against hisprofessional skill. "

Never a shade passed Craig's face as he listened to this tirade. "Excuseme a moment, " was all he said, opening the door to leave the room. "Ihave just one more fact to disclose. I will be back directly. "

Kennedy was gone several minutes, during which Close and Lawrencefell to whispering behind their hands, with the assurance of those whobelieved that this was only Kennedy's method of admitting a defeat. Gregory and Asche exchanged a few words similarly, and it was plain thatAsche was endeavouring to put a better interpretation on something thanGregory himself dared hope. 

As Kennedy re-entered, Close was buttoning up his coat preparatory toleaving, and Lawrence was lighting a fresh cigar. 

In his hand Kennedy held a notebook. "My stenographer writes a verylegible shorthand; at least I find it so--from long practice, I suppose. As I glance over her notes I find many facts which will interest youlater--at the trial. But--ah, here at the end--let me read:

"'Well, he's very clever, but he has nothing against me, has he?'

"'No, not unless he can produce the agent who bought the radium foryou. '

"'But he can't do that. No one could ever have recognised you on yourflying trip to London disguised as a diamond merchant who had justlearned that he could make his faulty diamonds good by applications ofradium and who wanted a good stock of the stuff. '

"'Still, we'll have to drop the suit against Gregory after all, in spiteof what I said. That part is hopelessly spoiled. '

"'Yes, I suppose so. Oh, well, I'm free now. She can hardly help butconsent to a divorce now, and a quiet settlement. She brought it onherself--we tried every other way to do it, but she--she was too good tofall into it. She forced us to it. '

"'Yes, you'll get a good divorce now. But can't we shut up this manKennedy? Even if he can't prove anything against us, the mere rumour ofsuch a thing coming to the ears of Mrs. Tulkington would be unpleasant. '

"'Go as far as you like, Lawrence. You know what the marriage will meanto me. It will settle my debts to you and all the rest. '

"'I'll see what I can do, Close. He'll be back in a moment. '"

Close's face was livid. "It's a pack of lies!" he shouted, advancingtoward Kennedy, "a pack of lies! You are a fakir and a blackmailer. I'llhave you in jail for this, by God--and you too, Gregory. "

"One moment, please, " said Kennedy calmly. "Mr. Lawrence, will you be sokind as to reach behind your chair? What do you find?"

Lawrence lifted up the plain black box and with it he pulled up thewires which I had so carefully concealed in the cracks of the floor. 

"That, " said Kennedy, "is a little instrument called the microphone. Its chief merit lies in the fact that it will magnify a sound sixteenhundred times, and carry it to any given point where you wish to placethe receiver. Originally this device was invented for the aid of thedeaf, but I see no reason why it should not be used to aid the law. One needn't eavesdrop at the keyhole with this little instrument about. Inside that box there is nothing but a series of plugs from which wires, much finer than a thread, are stretched taut. Yet a fly walking near itwill make a noise as loud as a draft-horse. If the microphone is placedin any part of the room, especially if near the persons talking--even ifthey are talking in a whisper--a whisper such as occurred several timesduring the evening and particularly while I was in the next room gettingthe notes made by my stenographer--a whisper, I say, is like shoutingyour guilt from the housetops. 

"You two men, Close and Lawrence, may consider yourselves under arrestfor conspiracy and whatever other indictments will lie against suchcreatures as you. The police will be here in a moment. No, Close, violence won't do now. The doors are locked--and see, we are four totwo. "

V. The Seismograph Adventure

"Dr. James Hanson, Coroner's Physician, Criminal Courts Building, " readCraig Kennedy, as he held a visitor's card in his hand. Then to thevisitor he added, "Take a chair, Doctor. "

The physician thanked him and sat down. "Professor Kennedy, " he began, "I have been referred to you by Inspector O'Connor of the DetectiveBureau. It may seem an impertinence for a city official to call on youfor assistance, but--well, you see, I'm completely floored. I think, too, that the case will interest you. It's the Vandam case. "

If Dr. Hanson had suddenly turned on the current of an induction coiland I had been holding the handles I don't think the thrill I receivedcould have been any more sudden. The Vandam case was the sensation ofthe moment, a triple puzzle, as both Kennedy and myself had agreed. Wasit suicide, murder, or sudden death? Every theory, so far, had provedunsatisfactory. 

"I have read only what the newspapers have published, " replied Craig tothe doctor's look of inquiry. "You see, my friend Jameson here is on thestaff of the Star, and we are in the habit of discussing these cases. "

"Very glad to meet you, Mr. Jameson, " exclaimed Dr. Hanson at theimplied introduction. "The relations between my office and your paperhave always been very satisfactory, I can assure you. "

"Thank you, Doctor. Depend on me to keep them so, " I replied, shakinghis proffered hand. 

"Now, as to the case, " continued the doctor slowly. "Here is a beautifulwoman in the prime of life, the wife of a very wealthy retired bankerconsiderably older than herself--perhaps nearly seventy--of very finefamily. Of course you have read it all, but let me sketch it so you willlook at it from my point of view. This woman, apparently in good health, with every luxury money can buy, is certain within a very few years, from her dower rights, to be numbered among the richest women inAmerica. Yet she is discovered in the middle of the night by her maid, seated at the table in the library of her home, unconscious. She neverregains consciousness, but dies the following morning. 

"The coroner is called in, and, as his physician, I must advise him. The family physician has pronounced it due to natural causes, the uremiccoma of latent kidney trouble. Some of the newspapers, I think the Staramong them, have hinted at suicide. And then there are others, who haveflatly asserted it was murder. "

The coroner's physician paused to see if we were following him. Needlessto say Kennedy was ahead of him. 

"Have you any facts in your possession which have not been given to thepublic yet?" asked Craig. 

"I'm coming to that in a moment, " replied Dr. Hanson. "Let me sketchthe case first. Henry Vandam had become--well, very eccentric in his oldage, we will say. Among his eccentricities none seems to have impressedthe newspapers more than his devotion to a medium and her manager, Mrs. May Popper and Mr. Howard Farrington. Now, of course, the case does notgo into the truth or falsity of spiritualism, you understand. You haveyour opinion, and I have mine. What this aspect of the case involves ismerely the character of the medium and her manager. You know, of course, that Henry Vandam is completely under their control. "

He paused again, to emphasise the point. 

"You asked me if I was in possession of any facts which have not beengiven to the press. Yes, I am. And just there lies the trouble. They areso very conflicting as to be almost worse than useless, as far as I cansee. We found near the unfortunate woman a small pill-box with threecapsules still in it. It was labelled 'One before retiring' and borethe name of a certain druggist and the initials 'Dr. C. W. H. ' Now, I amconvinced that the initials are merely a blind and do not give anyclue. The druggist says that a maid from the Vandam house brought inthe prescription, which of course he filled. It is a harmless enoughprescription--contains, among other things, four and a half grains ofquinine and one-sixth of a grain of morphine. Six capsules were preparedaltogether. 

"Now, of course my first thought was that she might have takenseveral capsules at once and that it was a case of accidental morphinepoisoning, or it might even be suicide. But it cannot be either, to mymind, for only three of the six capsules are gone. No doubt, also, youare acquainted with the fact that the one invariable symptom ofmorphine poisoning is the contraction of the pupils of the eyes to apin-point--often so that they are unrecognisable. Moreover, the pupilsare symmetrically contracted, and this symptom is the one invariablypresent in coma from morphine poisoning and distinguishes it from allother forms of death. 

"On the other hand, in the coma of kidney disease one pupil is dilatedand the other contracted--they are unsymmetrical. But in this caseboth the pupils are normal, or only a very little dilated, and they aresymmetrical. So far we have been able to find no other poison than theslight traces of morphine remaining in the stomach after so many hours. I think you are enough of a chemist to know that no doctor would dare goon the stand and swear to death from morphine poisoning in the face ofsuch evidence against him. The veriest tyro of an expert toxicologistcould too easily confute him. "

Kennedy nodded. "Have you the pill-box and the prescription?"

"I have, " replied Dr. Hanson, placing them on the table. 

Kennedy scrutinised them sharply. "I shall need these, " he said. "Ofcourse you understand I will take very good care of them. Is thereanything else of importance?"

"Really, I don't know, " said the physician dubiously. "It's rather outof my province, but perhaps you would think it important. It's mightyuncanny anyhow. Henry Vandam, as you doubtless know, was much moredeeply interested in the work of this medium than was his wife. PerhapsMrs. Vandam was a bit jealous--I don't know. But she, too, had aninterest in spiritualism, though he was much more deeply influenced byMrs. Popper than she. 

"Here's the strange part of it. The old man believes so thoroughly inrappings and materialisations that he constantly keeps a notebook in hispocket in which he records all the materialisations he thinks he seesand the rappings he hears, along with the time and place. Now it sohappened that on the night Mrs. Vandam was taken ill, he hadretired--I believe in another part of the house, where he has a regularseance-room. According to his story, he was awakened from a profoundsleep by a series of rappings. As was his custom, he noted the timeat which they occurred. Something made him uneasy, and he said to his'control'--at least this is his story:

"'John, is it about Mary?'

"Three raps answered 'yes, ' the usual code. 

"'What is the matter? Is she ill?'

"The three answering raps were so vigorous that he sprang out of bed andcalled for his wife's maid. The maid replied that Mrs. Vandam had notgone to bed yet, but that there was a light in the library and she wouldgo to her mistress immediately. The next moment the house was awakenedby the screams of the maid calling for help, that Mrs. Vandam was dying. 

"That was three nights ago. On each of the two succeeding nightsHenry Vandam says he has been awakened at precisely the same hour by arapping, and on each night his 'control' has given him a message fromhis dead wife. As a man of science, I attribute the whole thing to anoverwrought imagination. The original rappings may have been a merecoincidence with the fact of the condition of Mrs. Vandam. However, Igive this to you for what it is worth. "

Craig said nothing, but, as was his habit, shaded his eyes with thetips of his fingers, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair: "Isuppose, " he said, "you can give me the necessary authority to enter theVandam house and look at the scene of these happenings?"

"Certainly, " assented the physician, "but you will find it a queerplace. There are spirit paintings and spirit photographs in every room, and Vandam's own part of the house--well, it's creepy, that's all I cansay. "

"And also I suppose you have performed an autopsy on the body and willallow me to drop into your laboratory to-morrow morning and satisfymyself on this morphine point?"

"Certainly, " replied the coroner's physician, "at any time you say. "

"At ten sharp, then, to-morrow I shall be there, " said Craig. "It is noweight-thirty. Do you think I can see Vandam to-night? What time do theserappings occur?"

"Why, yes, you surely will be able to see him to-night. He hasn'tstirred from the house since his wife died. He told me he momentarilyexpected messages from her direct when she had got strong enough in hernew world. I believe they had some kind of a compact to that effect. Therappings come at twelve-thirty. "

"Ah, then I shall have plenty of time to run over to my laboratorybefore seeing Mr. Vandam and get some apparatus I have in mind. No, Doctor, you needn't bother to go with me. Just give me a card ofintroduction. I'll see you to-morrow at ten. Good-night--oh, by the way, don't give out any of the facts you have told me. "

"Jameson, " said Craig, when we were walking rapidly over toward theuniversity, "this promises to be an uncommonly difficult case. "

"As I view it now, " I said, "I have suspicions of everybody concernedin it. Even the view of the Star, that it is a case of suicide due tooverwrought nerves, may explain it. "

"It might even be a natural death, " Craig added. "And that would makeit a greater mystery than ever--a case for psychical research. One thingthat I am going to do to-night will tell me much, however. "

At the laboratory he unlocked a glass case and took out a littleinstrument which looked like two horizontal pendulums suspended by finewires. There was a large magnet near each pendulum, and the end ofeach pendulum bore a needle which touched a circular drum driven byclock-work. Craig fussed with and adjusted the apparatus, while I saidnothing, for I had long ago learned that in applying a new apparatusto doing old things Craig was as dumb as an oyster, until his work wascrowned with success. 

We had no trouble in getting in to see Mr. Vandam in his seance-room. His face was familiar to me, for I had seen him in public a number oftimes, but it looked strangely altered. He was nervous, and showed hisage very perceptibly. 

It was as the coroner's physician had said. The house was litteredwith reminders of the cult, books, papers, curious daubs of paintingshandsomely framed, and photographs; hazy overexposures, I should havecalled them, but Mr. Vandam took great pride in them, and Kennedy quitewon him over by his admiration for them. 

They talked about the rappings, and the old man explained where and whenthey occurred. They proceeded from a little cabinet or closet at one endof the room. It was evident that he was a thorough believer in them andin the messages they conveyed. 

Craig carefully noted everything about the room and then fell toadmiring the spirit photographs, if such they might be called. 

"The best of all I do not display, they are too precious, " said the oldman. "Would you like to see them?"

Craig assented eagerly, and Vandam left us for a moment to get them. Inan instant Craig had entered the cabinet, and in a dark corner on thefloor he deposited the mechanism he had brought from the laboratory. Then he resumed his seat, shutting the box in which he had brought themechanism, so that it would not appear that he had left anything aboutthe room. 

Artfully he led the conversation along lines that interested the oldman until he seemed to forget the hour. Not so, Craig. He knew it wasnearing half-past twelve. The more they talked the more uncanny did thishouse and room of spirits seem to me. In fact, I was rapidly reachingthe point where I could have sworn that once or twice somethingincorporeal brushed by me. I know now that it was purely imagination, but it shows what tricks the imagination can play on us. 

Rap! rap! rap! rap! rap!

Five times came a curiously hollow noise from the cabinet. If ithad been possible I should certainly have fled, it was so sudden andunexpected. The hall clock downstairs struck the half-hour in thosechimes written by Handel for St. Paul's. 

Craig leaned over to me and whispered hoarsely, "Keep perfectlystill--don't move a hand or foot. "

The old man seemed utterly to have forgotten us. "Is that you, John?" heasked expectantly. 

Rap! rap! rap! came the reply. 

"Is Mary strong enough to speak to me to-night?"

Rap! rap!

"Is she happy?"

Rap! rap!

"What makes her unhappy? What does she want? Will you spell it out?"

Rap! rap! rap!

Then, after a pause, the rapping started slowly, and distinctly to spellout words. It was so weird and uncanny that I scarcely breathed. Letterafter letter the message came, nineteen raps for "s, " eight for "h, "five for "e, " according to the place in the alphabet, numerically, ofthe required letter. At last it was complete. 

"She thinks you are not well. She asks you to have that prescriptionfilled again. "

"Tell her I will do it to-morrow morning. Is there anything else?"

Rap! rap! came back faintly:

"John, John, don't go yet, " pleaded the old man earnestly. It was easyto see how thoroughly he believed in "John, " as perhaps well he mightafter the warning of his wife's death three nights before. "Won't youanswer one other question?"

Fainter, almost imperceptibly, came a rap! rap!

For several minutes the old man sat absorbed in thought, trance-like. Then, gradually, he seemed to realise that we were in the room withhim. With difficulty he took up the thread of the conversation where therappings had broken it. 

"We were talking about the photographs, " he said slowly. "I hope soonto get one of my wife as she is now that she is transfigured. John haspromised me one soon. "

He was gathering up his treasures preparatory to putting them back intheir places of safekeeping. The moment he was out of the room Craigdarted into the cabinet and replaced his mechanism in the box. Then hebegan softly to tap the walls. At last he found the side that gave anoise similar to that which we had heard, and he seemed pleased to havefound it, for he hastily sketched on an old envelope a plan of that partof the house, noting on it the location of the side of the cabinet. 

Kennedy almost dragged me back to our apartment, he was in such a hurryto examine the apparatus at his leisure. He turned on all the lights, took the thing out of its case, and stripped off the two sheets of ruledpaper wound around the two revolving drums. He laid them flat onthe table and studied them for some minutes with evidently growingsatisfaction. 

At last he turned to me and said, "Walter, here is a ghost caught in theact. "

I looked dubiously at the irregular up-and-down scrawl on the paper, while he rang up the Homicide Bureau of the Central Office and left wordfor O'Connor to call him up the first thing in the morning. 

Still eyeing with satisfaction the record traced on the sheets of paper, he lighted a cigarette in a matter-of-fact way and added: "It proves tobe a very much flesh-and-blood ghost, this 'John. ' It walked up to thewall back of that cabinet, rapped, listened to old Vandam, rappedsome more, got the answer it wanted, and walked deliberately away. Thecabinet, as you may have noticed, is in a corner of the room with oneside along the hallway. The ghost must have been in the hall. "

"But who was it?"

"Not so fast, Walter, " laughed Craig. "Isn't it enough for one nightthat we have found out that much?"

Fortunately I was tired, or I certainly should have dreamed of rappingsand of "John" that night. I was awakened early by Kennedy talking withsomeone over the telephone. It was Inspector O'Connor. 

Of course I heard only one side of the conversation, but as near as Icould gather Kennedy was asking the inspector to obtain several samplesof ink for him. I had not heard the first part of the conversation, andwas considerably surprised when Kennedy hung up the receiver and said:

"Vandam had the prescription filled again early this morning, and itwill soon be in the hands of O'Connor. I hope I haven't spoiled thingsby acting too soon, but I don't want to run the risk of a doubletragedy. "

"Well, " I said, "it is incomprehensible to me. First I suspectedsuicide. Then I suspected murder. Now I almost suspect a murder and asuicide. The fact is, I don't know just what I suspect. I'm like Dr. Hanson--floored. I wonder if Vandam would voluntarily take all thecapsules at once in order to be with his wife?"

"One of them alone would be quite sufficient if the 'ghost' should takea notion, as I think it will, to walk in the daytime, " replied Craigenigmatically. "I don't want to run any chances, as I have said. I maybe wrong in my theory of the case, Walter, so let us not discuss thisphase of it until I have gone a step farther and am sure of my ground. O'Connor's man will get the capsules before Vandam has a chance to takethe first one, anyhow. The 'ghost' had a purpose in that message, forO'Connor tells me that Vandam's lawyer visited him yesterday and in allprobability a new will is being made, perhaps has already been made. "

We breakfasted in silence and later rode down to the office of Dr. Hanson, who greeted us enthusiastically. 

"I've solved it at last, " he cried, "and it's easy. "

Kennedy looked gravely over the analysis which Dr. Hanson shoved intohis hand, and seemed very much interested in the probable quantityof morphine that must have been taken to yield such an analysis. Thephysician had a text-book open on his desk. 

"Our old ideas of the infallible test of morphine poisoning are allexploded, " he said, excitedly beginning to read a passage he had markedin the book. 

"'I have thought that inequality of the pupils, that is to say, wherethey are not symmetrically contracted, is proof that a case is not oneof narcotism, or morphine poisoning. But Professor Taylor has recordeda case of morphine poisoning in which the unsymmetrical contractionoccurred. '

"There, now, until I happened to run across that in one of theauthorities I had supposed the symmetrical contraction of the pupilsof the eyes to be the distinguishing symptom of morphine poisoningProfessor Kennedy, in my opinion we can, after all, make out our case asone of morphine poisoning. "

"Is that case in the book all you base your opinion on?" asked Craigwith excessive politeness. 

"Yes, sir, " replied the doctor reluctantly. 

"Well, " said Kennedy quietly, "if you will investigate that case quotedfrom Professor Taylor, you will find that it has been proved that thepatient had one glass eye. "

"Then my contention collapses and she was not poisoned?"

"No, I do not say that. All I say is that expert testimony would refuteus as far as we have gone. But if you will let me make a few tests of myown I can readily clear up that end of the case, I now feel sure. Let metake these samples to my laboratory. "

I was surprised when we ran into Inspector O'Connor waiting for us inthe corridor of the Criminal Courts Building as we left the office ofthe coroner's physician. He rushed up to Kennedy and shoved intohis hand a pill-box in which six capsules rattled. Kennedy narrowlyinspected the box, opened it, and looked thoughtfully at the six whitecapsules lying so innocently within. 

"One of these capsules would have been worth hundreds of thousands ofdollars to 'John, '" said Craig contemplatively, as he shut the box anddeposited it carefully in his inside vest pocket. "I don't believeI even said good morning to you, O'Connor, " he continued. "I hope Ihaven't kept you waiting here long. Have you obtained the samples ofink?"

"Yes, Professor. Here they are. As soon as you telephoned this morningI sent my men out separately to get them. There's the ink from thedruggist, this is from the Vandam library, this is from Farrington'sroom, and this is from Mrs. Popper's apartment. "

"Thank you, Inspector. I don't know what I'd do without your help, "said Kennedy, eagerly taking four small vials from him. "Science is allright, but organisation enables science to work quickly. And quicknessis the essence of this case. "

During the afternoon Kennedy was very busy in his laboratory, where Ifound him that night after my hurried dinner, from which he was absent. 

"What, is it after dinner-time?" he exclaimed, holding up a glassbeaker and watching the reaction of something he poured into it from atest-tube. 

"Craig, I believe that when you are absorbed in a case, you would ratherwork than eat. Did you have any lunch after I left you?"

"I don't think so, " he replied, regarding the beaker and not his answer. "Now, Walter, old fellow, I don't want you to be offended with me, but really I can work better if you don't constantly remind me of suchthings as eating and sleeping. Say, do you want to help me--really?"

"Certainly. I am as interested in the case as you are, but I can't makeheads or tails of it, " I replied. 

"Then, I wish you would look up Mrs. Popper to-night and have a privateseance with her. What I want you to do particularly is to get a goodidea of the looks of the room in which she is accustomed to work. I'mgoing to duplicate it here in my laboratory as nearly as possible. ThenI want you to arrange with her for a private 'circle' here to-morrownight. Tell her it is with a few professors at the university who areinterested in psychical research and that Mr. Vandam will be present. I'd rather have her come willingly than to force her to come. Incidentally watch that manager of hers, Farrington. By all means hemust accompany her. "

That evening I dropped casually in on Mrs. Popper. She was a womanof great brilliance and delicacy, both in her physical and mentalperceptions, of exceptional vivacity and cleverness. She must havestudied me more closely than I was aware of, for I believe she relied ondiverting my attention whenever she desired to produce one of her reallywonderful results. Needless to say, I was completely mystified by herperformance. She did spirit writing that would have done credit to theimmortal Slade, told me a lot of things that were true, and many morethat were unverifiable or hopelessly vague. It was really worth muchmore than the price, and I did not need to feign the interest necessaryto get her terms for a circle in the laboratory. 

Of course I had to make the terms with Farrington. The first glancearoused my suspicions of him. He was shifty-eyed, and his face had ahard and mercenary look. In spite of, perhaps rather because of, myrepugnance we quickly came to an agreement, and as I left the apartmentI mentally resolved to keep my eye on him. 

Craig came in late, having been engaged in his chemical analyses all theevening. From his manner I inferred that they had been satisfactory, and he seemed much gratified when I told him that I had arrangedsuccessfully for the seance and that Farrington would accompany themedium. 

As we were talking over the case a messenger arrived with a note fromO'Connor. It was written with his usual brevity: "Have just found fromservants that Farrington and Mrs. P. Have key to Vandam house. WishI had known it before. House shadowed. No one has entered or left itto-night. "

Craig looked at his watch. It was a quarter after one. "The ghostwon't walk to-night, Walter, " he said as he entered his bedroom for amuch-needed rest. "I guess I was right after all in getting the capsulesas soon as possible. The ghost must have flitted unobserved in therethis morning directly after the maid brought them back from thedruggist. "

Again, the next morning, he had me out of bed bright and early. As wedescended from the Sixth Avenue "L, " he led me into a peculiar littleshop in the shadow of the "L" structure. He entered as though he knewthe place well; but, then, that air of assurance was Kennedy's stock intrade and sat very well on him. 

Few people, I suppose, have ever had a glimpse of this workshop of magicand deception. This little shop of Marina's was the headquarters of themagicians of the country. Levitation and ghostly disappearing hands wereon every side. The shelves in the back of the shop were full of nickel, brass, wire, wood, and papier-mache contrivances, new and strange to theeye of the uninitiated. Yet it was all as systematic as a hardware shop. 

"Is Signor Marina in?" asked Craig of a girl in the first room, givenup to picture post-cards. The room was as deceptive as the trade, forit was only an anteroom to the storeroom I have described above. Thisstoreroom was also a factory, and half a dozen artisans were hard atwork in it. 

Yes, the signor was in, the girl replied, leading us back into theworkshop. He proved to be a short man with a bland, open face and frankeyes, the very antithesis of his trade. 

"I have arranged for a circle with Mrs. May Popper, " began Kennedy, handing the man his card. "I suppose you know her?"

"Indeed yes, " he answered. "I furnished her seance room. "

"Well, I want to hire for to-night just the same sort of tables, cabinets, carpets, everything that she has--only hire, you understand, but I am willing to pay you well for them. It is the best way to get agood sitting, I believe. Can you do it?"

The little man thought a moment, then replied: "Si, signor yes--verynearly, near enough. I would do anything for Mrs. Popper. She is a goodcustomer. But her manager--"

"My friend here, Mr. Jameson, has had seances with her in her ownapartment, " interposed Craig. "Perhaps he can help you to recollect justwhat is necessary. "

"I know very well, signor. I have the duplicate bill, the bill which waspaid by that Farrington with a check from the banker Vandam. Leave it tome. "

"Then you will get the stuff together this morning and have it up to myplace this afternoon. "

"Yes, Professor, yes. It is a bargain. I would do anything for Mrs. Popper--she is a fine woman. "

Late that afternoon I rejoined Craig at his laboratory. Signor Marinahad already arrived with a truck and was disposing the paraphernaliaabout the laboratory. He had first laid a thick black rug. Mrs. Poppervery much affected black carpets, and I had noticed that Vandam's roomwas carpeted in black, too. I suppose black conceals everything that oneoughtn't to see at a seance. 

A cabinet with a black curtain, several chairs, a light deal table, several banjos, horns, and other instruments were disposed about theroom. With a few suggestions from me we made a fair duplication of thehangings on the walls. Kennedy was manifestly anxious to finish, and atlast it was done. 

After Marina had gone, Kennedy stretched a curtain over the end ofthe room farthest from the cabinet. Behind it he placed on a shelfthe apparatus composed of the pendulums and magnets. The beakers andtest-tubes were also on this shelf. 

He had also arranged that the cabinet should be so situated that it wasnext a hallway that ran past his laboratory. 

"To-night, Jameson, " he said, indicating a spot on the hall wall justback of the cabinet, "I shall want you to bring my guests out here anddo a little spirit rapping--I'll tell you just what to do when the timecomes. "

That night, when we gathered in the transformed laboratory, there wereHenry Vandam, Dr. Hanson, Inspector O'Connor, Kennedy, and myself. At last the sound of wheels was heard, and Mrs. Popper drove up in ahansom, accompanied by Farrington. They both inspected the room narrowlyand seemed satisfied. I had, as I have said, taken a serious disliketo the man, and watched him closely. I did not like his air of calmassurance. 

The lights were switched off, all except one sixteen-candle-power lampin the farthest corner, shaded by a deep-red globe. It was just lightenough to see to read very, large print with difficulty. 

Mrs. Popper began immediately with the table. Kennedy and I sat on herright and left respectively, in the circle, and held her hands and feet. I confess to a real thrill when I felt the light table rise first on twolegs, then on one, and finally remain suspended in the air, whence itdropped with a thud, as if someone had suddenly withdrawn his support. 

The medium sat with her back to the curtain of the cabinet, and severaltimes I could have sworn that a hand reached out and passed close to myhead. At least it seemed so. The curtain bulged at times, and a breezeseemed to sweep out from the cabinet. 

After some time of this sort of work Craig led gradually up to a requestfor a materialisation of the control of Vandam, but Mrs. Popper refused. She said she did not feel strong enough, and Farrington put in a hastyword that he, too, could feel that "there was something working againstthem. " But Kennedy was importunate and at last she consented to see if"John" would do some rapping, even if he could not materialise. 

Kennedy asked to be permitted to put the questions. 

"Are you the 'John' who appears to Mr. Vandam every night attwelve-thirty?"

Rap! rap! rap! came the faint reply from the cabinet. Or rather itseemed to me to come from the floor near the cabinet, and perhaps to bea trifle muffled by the black carpet. 

"Are you in communication with Mrs. Vandam?"

Rap! rap! rap!

"Can she be made to rap for us?"

Rap! rap!

"Will you ask her a question and spell out her answer?"

Rap! rap! rap!

Craig paused a moment to frame the question, then shot it outpoint-blank: "Does Mrs. Vandam know now in the other world whetheranyone in this room substituted a morphine capsule for one of thoseordered by her three days before she died? Does she know whether thesame person has done the same thing with those later ordered by Mr. Vandam?"

"John" seemed considerably perturbed at the mention of capsules. Itwas a long time before any answer was forthcoming. Kennedy was about torepeat the question when a faint sound was heard. 

Rap!----

Suddenly came a wild scream. It was such a scream as I had neverheard before in my life. It came as though a dagger had been thrust intothe heart of Mrs. Popper. The lights flashed up as Kennedy turned theswitch. 

A man was lying flat on the floor--it was Inspector O'Connor. He hadsucceeded in slipping noiselessly, like a snake, below the curtaininto the cabinet. Craig had told him to look out for wires or threadsstretched from Mrs. Popper's clothing to the bulging curtain of thecabinet. Imagine his surprise when he saw that she had simply freedher foot from the shoe, which I was carefully holding down, and with abackward movement of the leg was reaching out into the cabinet behindher chair and was doing the rapping with her toes. 

Lying on the floor he had grasped her foot and caught her heel with afirm hand. She had responded with a wild yell that showed she knew shewas trapped. Her secret was out. 

Hysterically Mrs. Popper began to upbraid the inspector as he rose tohis feet, but Farrington quickly interposed. 

"Something was working against us to-night, gentlemen. Yet you demandedresults. And when the spirits will not come, what is she to do? Sheforgets herself in her trance; she produces, herself, the things thatyou all could see supernaturally if you were in sympathy. "

The mere sound of Farrington's voice seemed to rouse in me all theanimosity of my nature. I felt that a man who could trump up an excuselike that when a person was caught with the goods was capable of almostanything. 

"Enough of this fake seance, " exclaimed Craig. "I have let it goon merely for the purpose of opening the eyes of a certain deludedgentleman in this room. Now, if you will all be seated I shall havesomething to say that will finally establish whether Mary Vandam was thevictim of accident, suicide, or murder. "

With hearts beating rapidly we sat in silence. 

Craig took the beakers and test-tubes from the shelf behind the curtainand placed them on the little deal table that had been so merrilydancing about the room. 

"The increasing frequency with which tales of murder by poison appearin the newspapers, " he began formally, "is proof of how rapidly this newcivilisation of ours is taking on the aspects of the older civilisationsacross the seas. Human life is cheap in this country; but the waysin which human life has been taken among us have usually been direct, simple, aboveboard, in keeping with our democratic and pioneertraditions. The pistol and the bowie-knife for the individual, the ropeand the torch for the mob, have been the usual instruments of suddendeath. But when we begin to use poisons most artfully compoundedin order to hasten an expected bequest and remove obstacles in itsway--well, we are practising an art that calls up all the memories ofsixteenth century Italy. 

"In this beaker, " he continued, "I have some of the contents of thestomach of the unfortunate woman. The coroner's physician has found thatthey show traces of morphine. Was the morphine in such quantities as tobe fatal? Without doubt. But equally without doubt analysis could notdiscover and prove it in the face of one inconsistency. The usual testwhich shows morphine poisoning failed in this case. The pupils of hereyes were not symmetrically contracted. In fact they were normal. 

"Now, the murderer must have known of this test. This clever criminalalso knew that to be successful in the use of this drug where others hadfailed, the drug must be skilfully mixed with something else. In thatfirst box of capsules there were six. The druggist compounded themcorrectly according to the prescription. But between the time when theycame into the house from the druggist's and the time when she took thefirst capsule, that night, someone who had access to the house emptiedone capsule of its harmless contents and refilled it with a deadly doseof morphine--a white powder which looks just like the powder already inthe capsules. 

"Why, then, the normal pupils of the eyes? Simply because the criminalput a little atropine, or belladonna, with the morphine. My tests showabsolutely the presence of atropine, Dr. Hanson, " said Craig, bowing tothe physician. 

"The best evidence, however, is yet to come. A second box of sixcapsules, all intact, was discovered yesterday in the possession ofHenry Vandam. I have analysed the capsules. One contains no quinine atall--it is all morphine and atropine. It is, without doubt, preciselysimilar to the capsule which killed Mrs. Vandam. Another night or so, and Henry Vandam would have died the same death. "

The old man groaned. Two such exposures had shaken him. He looked fromone of us to another as if not knowing in whom he could trust. ButKennedy hurried on to his next point. 

"Who was it that gave the prescription to Mrs. Vandam originally? She isdead and cannot tell. The others won't tell, for the person who gave herthat prescription was the person who later substituted the fatal capsulein place of the harmless. The original prescription is here. I have beenable to discover from it nothing at all by examining the handwriting. Nor does the texture of the paper indicate anything to me. But theink--ah, the ink. 

"Most inks seem very similar, I suppose, but to a person who has made astudy of the chemical composition of ink they are very different. Inkis composed of iron tannate, which on exposure to air gives the black ofwriting. The original pigment--say blue or blue-black ink--is placedin the ink, to make the writing visible at first, and gradually fades, giving place to the black of the tannate which is formed. The dyestuffsemployed in the commercial inks of to-day vary in colour from palegreenish blue to indigo and deep violet. No two give identicalreactions--at all events not when mixed with the iron tannate to formthe pigment in writing. 

"It is owing to the difference in these provisional colouring mattersthat it is possible to distinguish between writing written withdifferent kinds of ink. I was able easily to obtain samples of theinks used by the Vandams, by Mrs. Popper, by Mr. Farrington, and by thedruggist. I have compared the writing of the original prescription witha colour scale of my own construction, and I have made chemicaltests. The druggist's ink conforms exactly to the writing on the twopill-boxes, but not to the prescription. One of the other three inksconforms by test absolutely to the ink in that prescription signed 'Dr. C. W. H. ' as a blind. In a moment my chain of evidence against the ownerof that bottle of ink will be complete. "

I could not help but think of the two pendulums on the shelf behindthe curtain, but Craig said nothing for a moment to indicate that hereferred to that apparatus. We sat dazed. Farrington seemed nervousand ill at ease. Mrs. Popper, who had not recovered from the hystericalcondition of her exposure, with difficulty controlled her emotion. Vandam was crushed. 

"I have not only arranged this laboratory so as to reproduce Mrs. Popper's seance-room, " began Craig afresh, "but I have had the cabinetplaced in relatively the same position a similar cabinet occupies in Mr. Vandam's private seance-room in the Vandam mansion. 

"One night, Mr. Jameson and myself were visiting Mr. Vandam. Atprecisely twelve-thirty we heard most unaccountable rappings from thatcabinet. I particularly noted the position of the cabinet. Back ofit ran a hallway. That is duplicated here. Back of this cabinet is ahallway. I had heard of these rappings before we went, but was afraidthat it would be impossible for me to catch the ghost red handed. Thereis a limit to what you can do the first time you enter a man's house, and, besides, that was no time to arouse suspicion in the mind ofanyone. But science has a way out of every dilemma. I determined tolearn something of these rappings. "

Craig paused and glanced first at Farrington, then at Mrs. Popper, andthen at Mr. Vandam. 

"Mr. Jameson, " he resumed, "will escort the doctor, the inspector, Mr. Farrington, Mrs. Popper, and Mr. Vandam into my imitation hall of theVandam mansion. I want each of you in turn to tiptoe up that hall to aspot indicated on the wall, back of the cabinet, and strike that spotseveral sharp blows with your knuckles. "

I did as Craig instructed tiptoeing up myself first so that they couldnot mistake his meaning. The rest followed separately, and after amoment we returned silently in suppressed excitement to the room. 

Craig was still standing by the table, but now the pendulums with themagnets and needles and the drums worked by clockwork were before him. 

"Another person outside the Vandam family had a key to the Vandammansion, " he began gravely. "That person, by the way, was the one whowaited, night by night, until Mrs. Vandam took the fatal capsule, and then when she had taken it apprised the old man of the fact andstrengthened an already blind faith in the shadow world. "

You could have heard a pin drop. In fact you could almost have felt itdrop. 

"That other person who, unobserved, had free access to the house, " hecontinued in the breathless stillness, "is in this room now. "

He was looking at O'Connor as if for corroboration. O'Connor nodded. "Information derived from the butler, " he muttered. 

"I did not know this until yesterday, " Kennedy continued, "but Isuspected that something of the sort existed when I was first told byDr. Hanson of the rappings. I determined to hear those rappings, andmake a record of them. So, the night Mr. Jameson and I visited Mr. Vandam, I carried this little instrument with me. "

Almost lovingly he touched the pendulums on the table. They were nowat rest and kept so by means of a lever that prevented all vibrationwhatever. 

"See, I release this lever--now, let no one in the room move. Watchthe needles on the paper as the clockwork revolves the drums. I take astep--ever so lightly. The pendulums vibrate, and the needles trace abroken line on the paper on each drum. I stop; the lines are practicallystraight. I take another step and another, ever so lightly. See thedelicate pendulums vibrate? See, the lines they trace are jagged lines. "

He stripped the paper off the drums and laid it flat on the table beforehim, with two other similar pieces of paper. 

"Just before the time of the rapping I placed this instrument in thecorner of the Vandam cabinet, just as I placed it in this cabinet afterMr. Jameson conducted you from the room. In neither case were suspicionsaroused. Everything in both cases was perfectly normal--I mean the'ghost' was in ignorance of the presence, if not the very existence, ofthis instrument. 

"This is an improved seismograph, " he explained, "one after a veryrecent model by Prince Galitzin of the Imperial Academy of St. Petersburg. The seismograph, as you know, was devised to registerearthquakes at a distance. This one not only measures the size ofa distant earthquake, but the actual direction from which theearth-tremors come. That is why there are two pendulums and two drums. 

"The magnetic arrangement is to cut short the vibrations set up in thependulums, to prevent them from continuing to vibrate after the firstshock. Thus they are ready in an instant to record another tremor. Otherseismographs continue to vibrate for a long time as a result of onetremor only. Besides, they give little indication of the direction fromwhich the tremors come. 

"I think you must all appreciate that your tiptoeing up the hall mustcause a far greater disturbance in this delicate seismograph than evena very severe earthquake thousands of miles away, which it was built torecord. "

He paused and examined the papers sharply. 

"This is the record made by the 'ghost's' walk the other night, " hesaid, holding up two of them in his left hand. "Here on the table, ontwo other longer sheets, I have records of the vibrations set up bythose in this room walking to-night. 

"Here is Mr. Jameson's--his is not a bit like the ghost's. Nor is Mr. Vandam's. Least of all are Dr. Hanson's and Inspector O'Connor's, forthey are heavy men. 

"Now here is Mr. Farrington's"--he bent down closely, "he is a lightman, and the ghost was light. "

Craig was playing with his victim like a cat with a mouse. 

Suddenly I felt something brush by me, and with a swish of air and ofgarments I saw Mrs. Popper fling herself wildly at the table that borethe incriminating records. In another instant Farrington was on his feetand had made a wild leap in the same direction. 

It was done so quickly that I must have acted first and thoughtafterward. I found myself in the midst of a melee with my hand athis throat and his at mine. O'Connor with a jiu-jitsu movement bentFarrington's other arm until he released me with a cry of pain. 

In front of me I saw Craig grasping Mrs. Popper's wrists as in a vise. She was glaring at him like a tigress. 

"Do you suppose for a moment that that toy is going to convince theworld that Henry Vandam has been deceived and that the spirit whichvisited him was a fraud? Is that why you have lured me here under falsepretences, to play on my feelings, to insult me, to take advantage of alone, defenceless woman, surrounded by hostile men? Shame on you, " sheadded contemptuously. "You call yourself a gentleman, but I call you acoward. "

Kennedy, always calm and collected, ignored the tirade. His voice wasas cold as steel as he said: "It would do little good, Mrs. Popper, todestroy this one link in the chain I have forged. The other links aretoo heavy for you. Don't forget the evidence of the ink. It was yourink. Don't forget that Henry Vandam will not any longer conceal that hehas altered his will in favour of you. To-night he goes from here to hislawyer's to draw up a new will altogether. Don't forget that you havecaused the Vandams separately to have the prescription filled, and thatyou are now caught in the act of a double murder. Don't forget that youhad access to the Vandam mansion, that you substituted the deadly forthe harmless capsules. Don't forget that your rappings announced thedeath of one of your victims and urged the other, a cruelly wronged andcredulous old man, to leave millions to you who had deceived and wouldhave killed him. 

"No, the record of the ghost on the seismograph was not Mr. Farrington's, as I implied at the moment when you so kindly furnishedthis additional proof of your guilt by trying to destroy the evidence. The ghost was you, Mrs. Popper, and you are at liberty to examine themarkings as minutely as you please, but you must not destroy them. Youare an astute criminal, Mrs. Popper, but to-night you are under arrestfor the murder of Mary Vandam and the attempted murder of Henry Vandam. "

VI. The Diamond Maker

"I've called, Professor Kennedy, to see if we can retain you in a casewhich I am sure will tax even your resources. Heaven knows it has taxedours. "

The visitor was a large, well-built man. He placed his hat on the tableand, without taking off his gloves, sat down in an easy chair which hecompletely filled. 

"Andrews is my name--third vice-president of the Great Eastern LifeInsurance Company. I am the nominal head of the company's privatedetective force, and though I have some pretty clever fellows onmy staff we've got a case that, so far, none of us has been able tounravel. I'd like to consult you about it. "

Kennedy expressed his entire willingness to be consulted, and after theusual formalities were over, Mr. Andrews proceeded. 

"I suppose you are aware that the large insurance companies maintainquite elaborate detective forces and follow very keenly such of thecases of their policy-holders as look at all suspicious. This case whichI wish to put in your hands is that of Mr. Solomon Morowitch, a wealthyMaiden Lane jeweller. I suppose you have read something in the papersabout his sudden death and the strange robbery of his safe?"

"Very little, " replied Craig. "There hasn't been much to read. "

"Of course not, of course not, " said Mr. Andrews with some show ofgratification. "I flatter myself that we have pulled the wires so as tokeep the thing out of the papers as much as possible. We don't want tofrighten the quarry till the net is spread. The point is, though, tofind out who is the quarry. It's most baffling. "

"I am at your service, " interposed Craig quietly, "but you will haveto enlighten me as to the facts in the case. As to that, I know no morethan the newspapers. "

"Oh, certainly, certainly. That is to say, you know nothing at all andcan approach it without bias. " He paused and then, seeming to noticesomething in Craig's manner, added hastily: "I'll be perfectly frankwith you. The policy in question is for one hundred thousand dollars, and is incontestable. His wife is the beneficiary. The company isperfectly willing to pay, but we want to be sure that it is all straightfirst. There are certain suspicious circumstances that in justice toourselves we think should be cleared up. That is all--believe me. We arenot seeking to avoid an honest liability. "

"What are these suspicious circumstances?" asked Craig, apparentlysatisfied with the explanation. 

"This is in strict confidence, gentlemen, " began Mr. Andrews. "Mr. Morowitch, according to the story as it comes to us, returned home lateone night last week, apparently from his office, in a very weakened, a semiconscious, condition. His family physician, Doctor Thornton, wassummoned, not at once, but shortly. He pronounced Mr. Morowitch to besuffering from a congestion of the lungs that was very like a suddenattack of pneumonia. 

"Mr. Morowitch had at once gone to bed, or at least was in bed, when thedoctor arrived, but his condition grew worse so rapidly that the doctorhastily resorted to oxygen, under which treatment he seemed to revive. The doctor had just stepped out to see another patient when a hurry callwas sent to him that Mr. Morowitch was rapidly sinking. He died beforethe doctor could return. No statement whatever concerning the cause ofhis sudden illness was made by Mr. Morowitch, and the death-certificate, a copy of which I have, gives pneumonia as the cause of death. One ofour men has seen Doctor Thornton, but has been able to get nothing outof him. Mrs. Morowitch was the only person with her, husband at thetime. "

There was something in his tone that made me take particular note ofthis last fact, especially as he paused for an instant. 

"Now, perhaps there would be nothing surprising about it all, so farat least, were it not for the fact that the following morning, when hisjunior partner, Mr. Kahan, opened the place of business, or rather wentto it, for it was to remain closed, of course, he found that duringthe night someone had visited it. The lock on the great safe, whichcontained thousands of dollars' worth of diamonds, was intact; but inthe top of the safe a huge hole was found--an irregular, round hole, bigenough to put your foot through. Imagine it, Professor Kennedy, a greathole in a safe that is made of chrome steel, a safe that, short of asafety-deposit vault, ought to be about the strongest thing on earth. 

"Why, that steel would dull and splinter even the finest diamond-drillbefore it made an impression. The mere taking out and refitting ofdrills into the brace would be a most lengthy process. Eighteen ortwenty hours is the time by actual test which it would take to boresuch a hole through those laminated plates, even if there were meansof exerting artificial pressure. As for the police, they haven't even atheory yet. "

"And the diamonds"

"All gone--everything of any value was gone. Even the letter-files wereransacked. His desk was broken open, and papers of some nature had beentaken out of it. Thorough is no name for the job. Isn't that enough toarouse suspicion?"

"I should like to see that safe, " was all Kennedy said. 

"So you shall, so you shall, " said Mr. Andrews. "Then we may retain youin our service? My car is waiting down-stairs. We can go right down toMaiden Lane if you wish. "

"You may retain me on one condition, " said Craig without moving. "I amto be free to get at the truth whether it benefits or hurts the company, and the case is to be entirely in my hands. "

"Hats on, " agreed Mr. Andrews, reaching in his vest pocket and pullingout three or four brevas. "My chauffeur is quite a driver. He can almostbeat the subway down. "

"First, to my laboratory, " interposed Craig. "It will take only a fewminutes. "

We drove up to the university and stopped on the campus while Craighurried into the Chemistry Building to get something. 

"I like your professor of criminal science;" said Andrews to me, blowinga huge fragrant cloud of smoke. 

I, for my part, liked the vice-president. He was a man who seemedthoroughly to enjoy life, to have most of the good things, and acapacity for getting out of them all that was humanly possible. Heseemed to be particularly enjoying this Morowitch case. 

"He has solved some knotty cases, " was all I said. "I've come to believethere is no limit to his resourcefulness. "

"I hope not. He's up against a tough one this trip, though, my boy. "

I did not even resent the "my boy. " Andrews was one of those men inwhom we newspaper writers instinctively believe. I knew that it wouldbe "pens lifted" only so long as the case was incomplete. When the timecomes with such men they are ready to furnish us the best "copy" in theworld. 

Kennedy quickly rejoined us, carrying a couple of little glass bottleswith ground-glass stoppers. 

Morowitch & Co. Was, of course, closed when we arrived, but we hadno trouble in being admitted by the Central Office man who had beendetailed to lock the barn door after the horse was stolen. It wasprecisely as Mr. Andrews had said. Mr. Kahan showed us the safe. Throughthe top a great hole had been made--I say made, for at the moment I wasat a loss to know whether it had been cut, drilled, burned, blown out, or what-not. 

Kennedy examined the edges of the hole carefully, and just the traceof a smile of satisfaction flitted over his face as he did so. Withoutsaying a word he took the glass stopper out of the larger bottle whichhe had brought and poured the contents on the top of the safe near thehole. There it lay, a little mound of reddish powder. 

Kennedy took a little powder of another kind from the other bottle andlighted it with a match. 

"Stand back--close to the wall, " he called as he dropped the burningmass on the red powder. In two or three leaps he joined us at the farend of the room. 

Almost instantly a dazzling, intense flame broke out, and sizzled andcrackled. With bated breath we watched. It was almost incredible, butthat glowing mass of powder seemed literally to be sinking, sinkingright down into the cold steel. In tense silence we waited. On theceiling we could still see the reflection of the molten mass in the cupwhich it had burned for itself in the top of the safe. 

At last it fell through into the safe--fell as the burning roof of aframe building would fall into the building. No one spoke a word, but aswe cautiously peered over the top of the safe we instinctively turned toKennedy for an explanation. The Central Office man, with eyes as big ashalf-dollars, acted almost as if he would have liked to clap the ironson Kennedy. For there in the top of the safe was another hole, smallerbut identical in nature with the first one. 

"Thermit, " was all Kennedy said. 

"Thermit?" echoed Andrews, shifting the cigar which he had allowed to goout in the excitement. 

"Yes, an invention of a chemist named Goldschmidt, of Essen, Germany. Itis a compound of iron oxide, such as comes off a blacksmith's anvil orthe rolls of a rolling-mill, and powdered metallic aluminum. You couldthrust a red-hot bar into it without setting it off, but when youlight a little magnesium powder and drop it on thermit, a combustion isstarted that quickly reaches fifty-four hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Ithas the peculiar property of concentrating its heat to the immediatespot on which it is placed. It is one of the most powerful oxidisingagents known, and it doesn't even melt the rest of the steel surface. You see how it ate its way through the steel. Either black or redthermit will do the trick equally well. "

No one said anything. There was nothing to say. 

"Someone uncommonly clever, or instructed by someone uncommonly clever, must have done that job, " added Craig. "Well, there is nothing more tobe done here, " he added, after a cursory look about the office. "Mr. Andrews, may I have a word with you? Come on, Jameson. Good day, Mr. Kahan. Good day, Officer. "

Outside we stopped for a moment at the door of Andrews's car. 

"I shall want to see Mr. Morowitch's papers at home, " said Craig, "and also to call on Doctor Thornton. Do you think I shall have anydifficulty?"

"Not at all, " replied Mr. Andrews, "not at all. I will go with youmyself and see that you have none. Say, Professor Kennedy, " he brokeout, "that was marvellous. I never dreamed such a thing was possible. But don't you think you could have learned something more up there inthe office by looking around?"

"I did learn it, " answered Kennedy. "The lock on the door wasintact--whoever did the job let himself in by a key. There is no otherway to get in. "

Andrews gave a low whistle and glanced involuntarily up at the windowwith the sign of Morowitch & Co. In gold letters several floors above. 

"Don't look up. I think that was Kahan looking out at us, " he said, fixing his eyes on his cigar. "I wonder if he knows more about this thanhe has told! He was the 'company, ' you know, but his interest in thebusiness was only very slight. By George--"

"Not too fast, Mr. Andrews, " interrupted Craig. "We have still to seeMrs. Morowitch and the doctor before we form any theories. "

"A very handsome woman, too, " said Andrews, as we seated ourselvesin the car: "A good deal younger than Morowitch. Say, Kahan isn't abad-looking chap, either, is he? I hear he was a very frequent visitorat his partner's house. Well, which first, Mrs. M. Or the doctor?"

"The house, " answered Craig. 

Mr. Andrews introduced us to Mrs. Morowitch, who was in very deepmourning, which served, as I could not help noticing, rather to heightenthan lessen her beauty. By contrast it brought out the rich deep colourof her face and the graceful lines of her figure. She was altogether avery attractive young widow. 

She seemed to have a sort of fear of Andrews, whether merely because herepresented the insurance company on which so much depended or becausethere were other reasons for fear, I could not, of course, make out. Andrews was very courteous and polite, yet I caught myself asking if itwas not a professional rather than a personal politeness. Rememberinghis stress on the fact that she was alone with her husband when hedied, it suddenly flashed across my mind that somewhere I had read ofa detective who, as his net was being woven about a victim, always grewmore and more ominously polite toward the victim. I know that Andrewssuspected her of a close connection with the case. As for myself, Idon't know what I suspected as yet. 

No objection was offered to our request to examine Mr. Morowitch'spersonal effects in the library, and accordingly Craig ransackedthe desk and the letter-file. There was practically nothing to bediscovered. 

"Had Mr. Morowitch ever received any threats of robbery?" asked Craig, as he stood before the desk. 

"Not that I know of, " replied Mrs. Morowitch. "Of course every jewellerwho carries a large stock of diamonds must be careful. But I don't thinkmy husband had any special reason to fear robbery. At least he neversaid anything about it. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. I merely thought there might be some hint as to themotives of the robbery, " said Craig. He was fingering one of thosedesk-calendars which have separate leaves for each day with blank spacesfor appointments. 

"'Close deal Poissan, '" he read slowly from one of the entries, as if tohimself. "That's strange. It was the correspondence under the letter'P' that was destroyed at the office, and there is nothing in theletter-file here, either. Who was Poissan?"

Mrs. Morowitch hesitated, either from ignorance or from a desire toevade the question. "A chemist, I think, " she said doubtfully. "Myhusband had some dealings with him--some discovery he was going to buy. I don't know anything about it. I thought the deal was off. "

"The deal?"

"Really, Mr. Kennedy, you had better ask Mr. Kahan. My husband talkedvery, little to me about business affairs. "

"But what was the discovery?"

"I don't know. I only heard Mr. Morowitch and Mr. Kahan refer to somedeal about a discovery regarding diamonds. "

"Then Mr. Kahan knows about it?"

"I presume so. "

"Thank you, Mrs. Morowitch, " said Kennedy, when it was evident that sheeither could not or would not add anything to what she had said. "Pardonus for causing all this trouble. "

"No trouble at all, " she replied graciously, though I could see she wasintent on every word and motion of Kennedy and Andrews. 

Kennedy stopped the car at a drug-store a few blocks away and asked forthe business telephone directory. In an instant, under chemists, heput his finger on the name of Poissan--"Henri Poissan, electricfurnaces, --William St. , " he read. 

"I shall visit him to-morrow morning. Now for the doctor. "

Doctor Thornton was an excellent specimen of the genus physician tothe wealthy--polished, cool, suave. One of Mr. Andrews's men, as Ihave said, had seen him already, but the interview had been veryunsatisfactory. Evidently, however, the doctor had been turningsomething over in his mind since then and had thought better of it. Atany rate, his manner was cordial enough now. 

As he closed the doors to his office, he began to pace the floor. "Mr. Andrews, " he said, "I am in some doubt whether I had better tell you orthe coroner what I know. There are certain professional secrets that adoctor must, as a duty to his patients, conceal. That is professionalethics. But there are also cases when, as a matter of public policy, adoctor should speak out. "

He stopped and faced us. 

"I don't mind telling you that I dislike the publicity that would attendany statement I might make to the coroner. "

"Exactly, " said Andrews. "I appreciate your position exactly. Your otherpatients would not care to see you involved in a scandal--or at leastyou would not care to have them see you so involved, with all thenewspaper notoriety such a thing brings. "

Doctor Thornton shot a quick glance at Andrews, as if he would like toknow just how much his visitor knew or suspected. 

Andrews drew a paper from his pocket. "This is a copy of thedeath-certificate, " he said. "The Board of Health has furnished itto us. Our physicians at the insurance company tell me it is ratherextraordinarily vague. A word from us calling the attention of theproper authorities to it would be sufficient, I think. But, Doctor, thatis just the point. We do not desire publicity any more than you do. Wecould have the body of Mr. Morowitch exhumed and examined, but Iprefer to get the facts in the case without resorting to such extrememeasures. "

"It would do no good, " interrupted the doctor hastily. "And if you'llsave me the publicity, I'll tell you why. "

Andrews nodded, but still held the death-certificate where the doctorwas constantly reminded of it. 

"In that certificate I have put down the cause of death as congestionof the lungs due to an acute attack of pneumonia. That is substantiallycorrect, as far as it goes. When I was summoned to see Mr. MorowitchI found him in a semiconscious state and scarcely breathing. Mrs. Morowitch told me that he had been brought home in a taxicab by a manwho had picked him up on William Street. I'm frank to say that at firstsight I thought it was a case of plain intoxication, for Mr. Morowitchsometimes indulged a little freely when he made a splendid deal. Ismelled his breath, which was very feeble. It had a sickish sweet odour, but that did not impress me at the time. I applied my stethoscope tohis lungs. There was a very marked congestion, and I made as my workingdiagnosis pneumonia. It was a case for quick and heroic action. In avery few minutes I had a tank of oxygen from the hospital. 

"In the meantime I had thought over that sweetish odour, and it flashedon my mind that it might, after all, be a case of poisoning. When theoxygen arrived I administered it at once. As it happens, the RockefellerInstitute has just published a report of experiments with a new antidotefor various poisons, which consists simply in a new method of enforcedbreathing and throwing off the poison by oxidising it in that way. Ineither case--the pneumonia theory or the poison theory--this line ofaction was the best that I could have adopted on the spur of the moment. I gave him some strychnine to strengthen his heart and by hard work Ihad him resting apparently a little easier. A nurse had been sent for, but had not arrived when a messenger came to me telling of a very suddenillness of Mrs. Morey, the wife of the steel-magnate. As the Morey homeis only a half-block away, I left Mr. Morowitch, with very particularinstructions to his wife as to what to do. 

"I had intended to return immediately, but before I got back Mr. Morowitch was dead. Now I think I've told you all. You see, it wasnothing but a suspicion--hardly enough to warrant making a fuss about. I made out the death-certificate, as you see. Probably that would havebeen all there was to it if I hadn't heard of this incomprehensiblerobbery. That set me thinking again. There, I'm glad I've got it out ofmy system. I've thought about it a good deal since your man was here tosee me. "

"What do you suspect was the cause of that sweetish odour?" askedKennedy. 

The doctor hesitated. "Mind, it is only a suspicion. Cyanide ofpotassium or cyanogen gas; either would give such an odour. "

"Your treatment would have been just the same had you been certain?"

"Practically the same, the Rockefeller treatment. "

"Could it have been suicide" asked Andrews. 

"There was no motive for it, I believe, " replied the doctor. 

"But was there any such poison in the Morowitch house?"

"I know that they were much interested in photography. Cyanide ofpotassium is used in certain processes in photography. "

"Who was interested in photography, Mr. Or Mrs. Morowitch?"

"Both of them. "

"Was Mrs. Morowitch?"

"Both of them, " repeated the doctor hastily. It was evident howAndrews's questions were tending, and it was also evident that thedoctor did not wish to commit himself or even to be misunderstood. 

Kennedy had sat silently for some minutes, turning the thing over in hismind. Apparently disregarding Andrews entirely, he now asked, "Doctor, supposing it had been cyanogen gas which caused the congestion of thelungs, and supposing it had not been inhaled in quantities large enoughto kill outright, do you nevertheless feel that Mr. Morowitch was in aweak enough condition to die as a result of the congestion produced bythe gas after the traces of the cyanogen had been perhaps thrown off?"

"That is precisely the impression which I wished to convey. "

"Might I ask whether in his semiconscious state he said anything thatmight at all serve as a clue?"

"He talked ramblingly, incoherently. As near as I can remember it, heseemed to believe himself to have become a millionaire, a billionaire. He talked of diamonds, diamonds, diamonds. He seemed to be picking themup, running his fingers through them, and once I remember he seemed towant to send for Mr. Kahan and tell him something. 'I can make them, Kahan, ' he said, 'the finest, the largest, the whitest--I can makethem. '"

Kennedy was all attention as Dr. Thornton added this new evidence. 

"You know, " concluded the doctor, "that in cyanogen poisoning theremight be hallucinations of the wildest kind. But then, too, in thedelirium of pneumonia it might be the same. "

I could see by the way Kennedy acted that for the first time a ray oflight had dawned upon him in tracing out the case. As we rose to go, the doctor shook hands with us. His last words were said with an air ofgreat relief, "Gentlemen, I have eased my conscience considerably. "

As we parted for the night Kennedy faced Andrews. "You recall that youpromised me one thing when I took up this case?" he asked. 

Andrews nodded. 

"Then take no steps until I tell you. Shadow Mrs. Morowitch and Mr. Kahan, but do not let them know you suspect them of anything. Let me rundown this Poissan clue. In other words, leave the case entirely in myhands in other respects. Let me know any new facts you may unearth, andsome time to-morrow I shall call on you, and we will determine what thenext step is to be. Good night. I want to thank you for putting me inthe way of this case. I think we shall all be surprised at the outcome. "

It was late the following afternoon before I saw Kennedy again. He wasin his laboratory winding two strands of platinum wire carefully abouta piece of porcelain and smearing on it some peculiar black glassygranular substance that came in a sort of pencil, like a stick ofsealing-wax. I noticed that he was very particular to keep the two wiresexactly the same distance from each other throughout the entire lengthof the piece of porcelain, but I said nothing to distract his attention, though a thousand questions about the progress of the case were at mytongue's end. 

Instead I watched him intently. The black substance formed a sort ofbridge connecting and covering the wires. When he had finished he said:"Now you can ask me your questions, while I heat and anneal this littlecontrivance. I see you are bursting with curiosity. "

"Well, did you see Poissan?" I asked. 

Kennedy continued to heat the wire-covered porcelain. "I did, and he isgoing to give me a demonstration of his discovery to-night. "

"His discovery!"

"You remember Morowitch's 'hallucination, ' as the doctor called it? Thatwas no hallucination; that was a reality. This man Poissan says he hasdiscovered a way to make diamonds artificially out of pure carbon in anelectric furnace. Morowitch, I believe, was to buy his secret. His dreamof millions was a reality--at least to him. "

"And did Kahan and Mrs. Morowitch know it?" I asked quickly. 

"I don't know yet, " replied Craig, finishing the annealing. 

The black glassy substance was now a dull grey. 

"What's that stuff you were putting on the wire?" I asked. 

"Oh, just a by-product made in the manufacture of sulphuric acid, "answered Kennedy airily, adding, as if to change the subject: "I wantyou to go with me to-night. I told Poissan I was a professor in theuniversity and that I would bring one of our younger trustees, the sonof the banker, T. Pierpont Spencer, who might put some capital into hisscheme. Now, Jameson, while I'm finishing up my work here, run over tothe apartment and get my automatic revolver. I may need it to-night. Ihave communicated with Andrews, and he will be ready. The demonstrationwill take place at half-past-eight at Poissan's laboratory. I tried toget him to give it here, but he absolutely refused. "

Half an hour later I rejoined Craig at his laboratory, and we rode downto the Great Eastern Life Building. 

Andrews was waiting for us in his solidly furnished office. Outside Inoted a couple of husky men, who seemed to be waiting for orders fromtheir chief. 

From the manner in which the vice-president greeted us it was evidentthat he was keenly interested in what Kennedy was about to do. "Soyou think Morowitch's deal was a deal to purchase the secret ofdiamond-making?" he mused. 

"I feel sure of it, " replied Craig. "I felt sure of it the moment Ilooked up Poissan and found that he was a manufacturer of electricfurnaces. Don't you remember the famous Lemoine case in London andParis?"

"Yes, but Lemoine was a fakir of the first water;" said Andrews. "Do youthink this man is, too?"

"That's what I'm going to find out to-night before I take another step, "said Craig. "Of course there can be no doubt that by proper use theelectric furnace will make small, almost microscopic diamonds. It is notunreasonable to suppose that some day someone will be able to make largediamonds synthetically by the same process. "

"Maybe this man has done it, " agreed Andrews. "Who knows? I'll wagerthat if he has and that if Morowitch had bought an interest in hisprocess Kahan knew of it. He's a sharp one. And Mrs. Morowitch doesn'tlet grass grow under her feet, when it comes to seeing the main chanceas to money. Now just supposing Mr. Morowitch had bought an interest ina secret like that and supposing Kahan was in love with Mrs. Morowitchand that they--"

"Let us suppose nothing, Mr. Andrews, " interrupted Kennedy. "At leastnot yet. Let me see; it is now ten minutes after eight. Poissan's placeis only a few blocks from here. I'd like to get there a few minutesearly. Let's start. "

As we left the office, Andrews signalled to the two men outside, andthey quietly followed a few feet in the rear, but without seeming to bewith us. 

Poissan's laboratory was at the top of a sort of loft building a dozenstories or so high. It was a peculiar building, with several entrancesbesides a freight elevator at the rear and fire-escapes that led toadjoining lower roofs. 

We stopped around the corner in the shadow, and Kennedy and Andrewstalked earnestly. As near as I could make out Kennedy was insisting thatit would be best for Andrews and his men not to enter the buildingat all, but wait down-stairs while he and I went up. At last thearrangement was agreed on. 

"Here, " said Kennedy, undoing a package he had carried, "is a littleelectric bell with a couple of fresh dry batteries attached to it, andwires that will reach at least four hundred feet. You and the men waitin the shadow here by this side entrance for five minutes after Jamesonand I go up. Then you must engage the night watchman in some way. Whilehe is away you will find two wires dangling down the elevator shaft. Attach them to these wires from the bell and the batteries--thesetwo--you know how to do that. The wires will be hanging in the thirdshaft--only one elevator is running at night, the first. The moment youhear the bell begin to ring; jump into the elevator and come up to thetwelfth floor--we'll need you. "

As Kennedy and I rode up in the elevator I could not help thinking whatan ideal place a down-town office building is for committing a crime, even at this early hour of the evening. If the streets were deserted, the office-buildings were positively uncanny in their grim, blacksilence with only here and there a light. 

The elevator in the first shaft shot down again to the ground floor, andas it disappeared Kennedy took two spools of wire from his pocket andhastily shoved them through the lattice work the third elevator shaft. They quickly unrolled, and I could hear them strike the top of the emptycar below in the basement. That meant that Andrews on the ground floorcould reach the wires and attach them to the bell. 

Quickly in the darkness Kennedy attached the ends of the wires to thecurious little coil I had seen him working on in the laboratory, and weproceeded down the hall to the rooms occupied by Poissan, Kennedy hadallowed for the wire to reach from the elevator-shaft up this hall, also, and as he walked he paid it out in such a manner that it fell onthe floor close to the wall, where, in the darkness, it would never benoticed or stumbled over. 

Around an "L" in the hall I could see a ground-glass window with a lightshining through it. Kennedy stopped at the window and quickly placedthe little coil on the ledge, close up against the glass, with the wiresrunning from it down the hall. Then we entered. 

"On time to the minute, Professor, " exclaimed Poissan, snapping hiswatch. "And this, I presume, is the banker who is interested in mygreat discovery of making artificial diamonds of any size or colour?" headded, indicating me. 

"Yes, " answered Craig, "as I told you, a son of Mr. T. PierpontSpencer. "

I shook hands with as much dignity as I could assume, for the role ofimpersonation was a new one to me. 

Kennedy carelessly laid his coat and hat on the inside ledge of theground-glass window, just opposite the spot where he had placed thelittle coil on the other side of the glass. I noted that the window wassimply a large pane of wire-glass set in the wall for the purpose ofadmitting light in the daytime from the hall outside. 

The whole thing seemed eerie to me--especially as Poissan's assistantwas a huge fellow and had an evil look such as I had seen in pictures ofthe inhabitants of quarters of Paris which one does not frequent exceptin the company of a safe guide. I was glad Kennedy had brought hisrevolver, and rather vexed that he had not told me to do likewise. However, I trusted that Craig knew what he was about. 

We seated ourselves some distance from a table on which was a huge, plain, oblong contrivance that reminded me of the diagram of aparallelopiped which had caused so much trouble in my solid geometry atcollege. 

"That's the electric furnace, sir, " said Craig to me with an assumeddeference, becoming a college professor explaining things to the sonof a great financier. "You see the electrodes at either end? When thecurrent is turned on and led through them into the furnace you can getthe most amazing temperatures in the crucible. The most refractory ofchemical compounds can be broken up by that heat. What is the highesttemperature you have attained, Professor?"

"Something over three thousand degrees Centigrade, " replied Poissan, ashe and his assistant busied themselves about the furnace. 

We sat watching him in silence. 

"Ah, gentlemen, now I am ready, " he exclaimed at length, when everythingwas arranged to his satisfaction. "You see, here is a lump of sugarcarbon--pure amorphous carbon: Diamonds, as you know, are composed ofpure carbon crystallised under enormous pressure. Now, my theory is thatif we can combine an enormous pressure and an enormous heat we can makediamonds artificially. The problem of pressure is the thing, for herein the furnace we have the necessary heat. It occurred to me that whenmolten cast iron cools it exerts a tremendous pressure. That pressure iswhat I use. "

"You know, Spencer, solid iron floats on molten iron like solidwater--ice--floats on liquid water, " explained Craig to me. 

Poissan nodded. "I take this sugar carbon and place it in this soft ironcup. Then I screw on this cap over the cup, so. Now I place this mass ofiron scraps in the crucible of the furnace and start the furnace. "

He turned a switch, and long yellowish-blue sheets of flame spurted outfrom the electrodes on either side. It was weird, gruesome. One couldfeel the heat of the tremendous electric discharge. 

As I looked at the bluish-yellow flames they gradually changed to abeautiful purple, and a sickish sweet odour filled the room. Thefurnace roared at first, but as the vapors increased it became a betterconductor of the electricity, and the roaring ceased. 

In almost no time the mass of iron scraps became molten. SuddenlyPoissan plunged the cast-iron cup into the seething mass. The cupfloated and quickly began to melt. As it did so he waited attentivelyuntil the proper moment. Then with a deft motion he seized the wholething with a long pair of tongs and plunged it into a vat of runningwater. A huge cloud of steam filled the room. 

I felt a drowsy sensation stealing over me as the sickish sweet smellfrom the furnace increased. Gripping the chair, I roused myself andwatched Poissan attentively. He was working rapidly. As the molten masscooled and solidified he took it out of the water and laid it on ananvil. 

Then his assistant began to hammer it with careful, sharp blows, chipping off the outside. 

"You see, we have to get down to the core of carbon gently, " he said, ashe picked up the little pieces of iron and threw them into a scrap-box. "First rather brittle cast iron, then hard iron, then iron and carbon, then some black diamonds, and in the very centre the diamonds. 

"Ah! we are getting to them. Here is a small diamond. See, Mr. Spencer--gently Francois--we shall come to the large ones presently. "

"One moment, Professor Poissan, " interrupted Craig; "let your assistantbreak them out while I stand over him. "

"Impossible. You would not know when you saw them. They are just roughstones. "

"Oh, yes, I would. "

"No, stay where you are. Unless I attend to it the diamonds might beruined. "

There was something peculiar about his insistence, but after he pickedout the next diamond I was hardly prepared for Kennedy's next remark. 

"Let me see the palms of your hands. "

Poissan shot an angry glance at Kennedy, but he did not open his hands. 

"I merely wish to convince you, 'Mr. Spencer, '" said Kennedy to me, "that it is no sleight-of-hand trick and that the professor has notseveral uncut stones palmed in his hand like a prestidigitator. "

The Frenchman faced us, his face livid with rage. "You call me aprestidigitator, a fraud--you shall suffer for that! Sacrebleu! Ventredu Saint Gris! No man ever insults the honour of Poissan. Francois, water on the electrodes!"

The assistant dashed a few drops of water on the electrodes. The sickishodour increased tremendously. I felt myself almost going, but with aneffort I again roused myself. I wondered how Craig stood the fumes, forI suffered an intense headache and nausea. 

"Stop!" Craig thundered. "There's enough cyanogen in this room already. I know your game--the water forms acetylene with the carbon, and thatuniting with the nitrogen of the air under the terrific heat of theelectric arc forms hydrocyanic acid. Would you poison us, too? Do youthink you can put me unconscious out on the street and have a societydoctor diagnose my case as pneumonia? Or do you think we shall diequietly in some hospital as a certain New York banker did last yearafter he had watched an alchemist make silver out of apparentlynothing!"

The effect on Poissan was terrible. He advanced toward Kennedy, theveins in his face fairly standing out. Shaking his forefinger, heshouted: "You know that, do you? You are no professor, and this is nobanker. You are spies, spies. You come from the friends of Morowitch, doyou? You have gone too far with me. "

Kennedy said nothing, but retreated and took his coat and hat off thewindow ledge. The hideous penetrating light of the tongues of flame fromthe furnace played on the ground-glass window. 

Poissan laughed a hollow laugh. 

"Put down your hat and coat, Mistair Kennedy, " he hissed. "The door hasbeen locked ever since you have been here. Those windows are barred, thetelephone wire is cut, and it is three hundred feet to the street. Weshall leave you here when the fumes have overcome you. Francois andI can stand them up to a point, and when we reach that point we aregoing. "

Instead of being cowed Kennedy grew bolder, though I, for my part, feltso weakened that I feared the outcome of a hand-to-hand encounter witheither Poissan or Francois, who appeared as fresh as if nothing hadhappened. They were hurriedly preparing to leave us. 

"That would do you no good, " Kennedy rejoined, "for we have no safe fullof jewels for you to rob. There are no keys to offices to be stolen fromour pockets. And let me tell you--you are not the only man in New Yorkwho knows the secret of thermite. I have told the secret to thepolice, and they are only waiting to find who destroyed Morowitch'scorrespondence under the letter 'P' to apprehend the robber of his safe. Your secret is out. "

"Revenge! revenge!" Poissan cried. "I will have revenge. Francois, bring out the jewels--ha! ha!--here in this bag are the jewels of Mr. Morowitch. To-night Francois and I will go down by the back elevator toa secret exit. In two hours all your police in New York cannot find us. But in two hours you two impostors will be suffocated--perhaps you willdie of cyanogen, like Morowitch, whose jewels I have at last. "

He went to the door into the hall and stood there with a mocking laugh. I moved to make a rush toward them, but Kennedy raised his hand. 

"You will suffocate, " Poissan hissed again. 

Just then we heard the elevator door clang, and hurried steps came downthe long hall. 

Craig whipped out his automatic and began pumping the bullets out inrapid succession. As the smoke cleared I expected to see Poissan andFrancois lying on the floor. Instead, Craig had fired at the lock of thedoor. He had shattered it into a thousand bits. Andrews and his men wererunning down the hall. 

"Curse you!" muttered Poissan as he banged the now useless lock, "wholet those fellows in? Are you a wizard?"

Craig smiled coolly as the ventilation cleared the room of the deadlycyanogen. 

"On the window-sill outside is a selenium cell. Selenium is a badconductor of electricity in the dark, and an excellent conductor whenexposed to light. I merely moved my coat and hat, and the light from thefurnace which was going to suffocate us played through the glass on thecell, the circuit was completed without your suspecting that I couldcommunicate with friends outside, a bell was rung on the street, andhere they are. Andrews, there is the murderer of Morowitch, and there inhis hands are the Morowitch--"

Poissan had moved toward the furnace. With a quick motion he seized thelong tongs. There was a cloud of choking vapour. Kennedy leaped tothe switch and shut off the current. With the tongs he lifted out ashapeless piece of valueless black graphite. 

"All that is left of the priceless Morowitch jewels, " he exclaimedruefully. "But we have the murderer. "

"And to-morrow a certified check for one hundred thousand dollarsgoes to Mrs. Morowitch with my humblest apologies and sympathy, " addedAndrews. "Professor Kennedy, you have earned your retainer. "

VII. The Azure Ring

Files of newspapers and innumerable clippings from the press bureauslittered Kennedy's desk in rank profusion. Kennedy himself was sodeeply absorbed that I had merely said good evening as I came in and hadstarted to open my mail. With an impatient sweep of his hand, however, he brushed the whole mass of newspapers into the waste-basket. 

"It seems to me, Walter, " he exclaimed in disgust, "that this mysteryis considered insoluble for the very reason which should make it easy tosolve--the extraordinary character of its features. "

Inasmuch as he had opened the subject, I laid down the letter I wasreading. "I'll wager I can tell you just why you made that remark, Craig, " I ventured. "You're reading up on that Wainwright-Templetonaffair. "

"You are on the road to becoming a detective yourself, Walter, " heanswered with a touch of sarcasm. "Your ability to add two units totwo other units and obtain four units is almost worthy of InspectorO'Connor. You are right and within a quarter of an hour the districtattorney of Westchester County will be here. He telephoned me thisafternoon and sent an assistant with this mass of dope. I suppose he'llwant it back, " he added, fishing the newspapers out of the basket again. "But, with all due respect to your profession, I'll say that no onewould ever get on speaking terms with the solution of this case if hehad to depend solely on the newspaper writers. "

"No?" I queried, rather nettled at his tone. 

"No, " he repeated emphatically. "Here one of the most popular girlsin the fashionable suburb of Williston, and one of the leading youngermembers of the bar in New York, engaged to be married, are found dead inthe library of the girl's home the day before the ceremony. And now, a week later, no one knows whether it was an accident due to the fumesfrom the antique charcoal-brazier, or whether it was a double suicide, or suicide and murder, or a double murder, or--or--why, the expertshaven't even been able to agree on whether they have discovered poisonor not, " he continued, growing as excited as the city editor did over myfirst attempt as a cub reporter. 

"They haven't agreed on anything except that on the eve of what was, presumably, to have been the happiest day of their lives two of the bestknown members of the younger set are found dead, while absolutely noone, as far as is known, can be proved to have been near them within thetime necessary to murder them. No wonder the coroner says it is simplya case of asphyxiation. No wonder the district attorney is at his wits'end. You fellows have hounded them with your hypotheses until they can'tsee the facts straight. You suggest one solution and before-"

The door-bell sounded insistently, and without waiting for an answer atall, spare, loose-jointed individual stalked in and laid a green bag onthe table. 

"Good evening, Professor Kennedy, " he began brusquely. "I am DistrictAttorney Whitney, of Westchester. I see you have been reading up on thecase. Quite right. "

"Quite wrong, " answered Craig. "Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Jameson, of the Star. Sit down. Jameson knows what I think of the way thenewspapers have handled this case. I was about to tell him as you camein that I intended to disregard everything that had been printed, tostart out with you as if it were a fresh subject and get the facts atfirst hand. Let's get right down to business. First tell us just how itwas that Miss Wainwright and Mr. Templeton were discovered and by whom. "

The district attorney loosened the cords of the green bag and drew out abundle of documents. "I'll read you the affidavit of the maid whofound them, " he said, fingering the documents nervously. "You see, JohnTempleton had left his office in New York early that afternoon, tellinghis father that he was going to visit Miss Wainwright. He caughtthe three-twenty train, reached Williston all right, walked to theWainwright house, and, in spite of the bustle of preparation for thewedding, the next day, he spent the rest of the afternoon with MissWainwright. That's where the mystery begins. They had no visitors. Atleast, the maid who answers the bell says they had none. She was busywith the rest of the family, and I believe the front door was notlocked--we don't lock our doors in Williston, except at night. "

He had found the paper and paused to impress these facts on our minds. 

"Mrs. Wainwright and Miss Marian Wainwright, the sister, were busy aboutthe house. Mrs. Wainwright wished to consult Laura about something. Shesummoned the maid and asked if Mr. Templeton and Miss Wainwright werein the house. The maid replied that she would see, and this is heraffidavit. Ahem! I'll skip the legal part: 'I knocked at the librarydoor twice, but obtaining no answer, I supposed they had gone out fora walk or perhaps a ride across country as they often did. I opened thedoor partly and looked in. There was a silence in the room, a strange, queer silence. I opened the door further and, looking toward thedavenport in the corner, I saw Miss Laura and Mr. Templeton in such anawkward position. They looked as if they had fallen asleep. His head wasthrown back against the cushions of the davenport, and on his face was amost awful look. It was discoloured. Her head had fallen forward on hisshoulder, sideways, and on her face, too, was the same terrible stareand the same discolouration. Their right hands were tightly clasped. 

"'I called to them. They did not answer. Then the horrible truth flashedon me. They were dead. I felt giddy for a minute, but quickly recoveredmyself, and with a cry for help I rushed to Mrs. Wainwright's room, shrieking that they were dead. Mrs. Wainwright fainted. Miss Mariancalled the doctor on the telephone and helped us restore her mother. Sheseemed perfectly cool in the tragedy, and I do not know what we servantsshould have done if she had not been there to direct us. The house wasfrantic, and Mr. Wainwright was not at home. 

"'I did not detect any odour when I opened the library door. No glassesor bottles or vials or other receptacles which could have held poisonwere discovered or removed by me, or to the best of my knowledge andbelief by anyone else. '"

"What happened next?" asked Craig eagerly. 

"The family physician arrived and sent for the coroner immediately, andlater for myself. You see, he thought at once of murder. "

"But the coroner, I understand, thinks differently, " prompted Kennedy. 

"Yes, the coroner has declared the case to be accidental. He says thatthe weight of evidence points positively to asphyxiation. Still, how canit be asphyxiation? They could have escaped from the room at any time;the door was not locked. I tell you, in spite of the fact that the testsfor poison in their mouths, stomachs, and blood have so far revealednothing, I still believe that John Templeton and Laura Wainwright weremurdered. "

Kennedy looked at his watch thoughtfully. "You have told me just enoughto make me want to see the coroner himself, " he mused. "If we takethe next train out to Williston with you, will you engage to get us ahalf-hour talk with him on the case, Mr. Whitney?"

"Surely. But we'll have to start right away. I've finished my otherbusiness in New York. Inspector O'Connor--ah, I see you know him--haspromised to secure the attendance of anyone whom I can show to be amaterial witness in the case. Come on, gentlemen: I'll answer your otherquestions on the train. "

As we settled ourselves in the smoker, Whitney remarked in a low voice, "You know, someone has said that there is only one thing more difficultto investigate and solve than a crime whose commission is surroundedby complicated circumstances and that is a crime whose perpetration iswholly devoid of circumstances. "

"Are you so sure that this crime is wholly devoid of circumstances?"asked Craig. 

"Professor, " he replied, "I'm not sure of anything in this case. If Iwere I should not require your assistance. I would like the credit ofsolving it myself, but it is beyond me. Just think of it: so far wehaven't a clue, at least none that shows the slightest promise, althoughwe have worked night and day for a week. It's all darkness. The factsare so simple that they give us nothing to work on. It is like a blanksheet of paper. "

Kennedy said nothing, and the district attorney proceeded: "I don'tblame Mr. Nott, the coroner, for thinking it an accident. But tomy mind, some master criminal must have arranged this very bafflingsimplicity of circumstances. You recall that the front door wasunlocked. This person must have entered the house unobserved, not adifficult thing to do, for the Wainwright house is somewhat isolated. Perhaps this person brought along some poison in the form of a beverage, and induced the two victims to drink. And then, this person must haveremoved the evidences as swiftly as they were brought in and by the samedoor. That, I think, is the only solution. "

"That is not the only solution. It is one solution, " interrupted Kennedyquietly. 

"Do you think someone in the house did it?" I asked quickly. 

"I think, " replied Craig, carefully measuring his words, "that if poisonwas given them it must have been by someone they both knew pretty well. "

No one said a word, until at last I broke the silence. "I know from thegossip of the Star office that many Williston people say that Marian wasvery jealous of her sister Laura for capturing the catch of the season. Williston people don't hesitate to hint at it. "

Whitney produced another document from that fertile green bag. It wasanother affidavit. He handed it to us. It was a statement signed by Mrs. Wainwright, and read:

"Before God, my daughter Marian is innocent. If you wish to find outall, find out more about the past history of Mr. Templeton before hebecame engaged to Laura. She would never in the world have committedsuicide. She was too bright and cheerful for that, even if Mr. Templetonhad been about to break off the engagement. My daughters Laura andMarian were always treated by Mr. Wainwright and myself exactly alike. Of course they had their quarrels, just as all sisters do, but there wasnever, to my certain knowledge, a serious disagreement, and I was alwaysclose enough to my girls to know. No, Laura was murdered by someoneoutside. "

Kennedy did not seem to attach much importance to this statement. "Letus see, " he began reflectively. "First, we have a young woman especiallyattractive and charming in both person and temperament. She is justabout to be married and, if the reports are to be believed, there wasno cloud on her happiness. Secondly, we have a young man whom everyoneagrees to have been of an ardent, energetic, optimistic temperament. Hehad everything to live for, presumably. So far, so good. Everyone whohas investigated this case, I understand, has tried to eliminate thedouble-suicide and the suicide-and-murder theories. That is allright, providing the facts are as stated. We shall see, later, when weinterview the coroner. Now, Mr. Whitney, suppose you tell us brieflywhat you have learned about the past history of the two unfortunatelovers. "

"Well, the Wainwrights are an old Westchester family, not very wealthy, but of the real aristocracy of the county. There were only two children, Laura and Marian. The Templetons were much the same sort of family. Thechildren all attended a private school at White Plains, and there alsothey met Schuyler Vanderdyke. These four constituted a sort of littlearistocracy in the school. I mention this, because Vanderdyke laterbecame Laura's first husband. This marriage with Templeton was a secondventure. "

"How long ago was she divorced?" asked Craig attentively. 

"About three years ago. I'm coming to that in a moment. The sisters wentto college together, Templeton to law school, and Vanderdyke studiedcivil engineering. Their intimacy was pretty well broken up, all exceptLaura's and Vanderdyke's. Soon after he graduated he was taken into theconstruction department of the Central Railroad by his uncle, who was avice-president, and Laura and he were married. As far as I can learn hehad been a fellow of convivial habits at college, and about two yearsafter their marriage his wife suddenly became aware of what hadlong been well known in Williston, that Vanderdyke was paying markedattention to a woman named Miss Laporte in New York. 

"No sooner had Laura Vanderdyke learned of this intimacy of herhusband, " continued Whitney, "than she quietly hired private detectivesto shadow him, and on their evidence she obtained a divorce. The paperswere sealed, and she resumed her maiden name. 

"As far as I can find out, Vanderdyke then disappeared from her life. Heresigned his position with the railroad and joined a party of engineersexploring the upper Amazon. Later he went to Venezuela. Miss Laportealso went to South America about the same time, and was for a time inVenezuela, and later in Peru. 

"Vanderdyke seems to have dropped all his early associations completely, though at present I find he is back in New York raising capital fora company to exploit a new asphalt concession in the interior ofVenezuela. Miss Laporte has also reappeared in New York as Mrs. Ralston, with a mining claim in the mountains of Peru. "

"And Templeton?" asked Craig. "Had he had any previous matrimonialventures?"

"No, none. Of course he had had love affairs, mostly with thecountry-club set. He had known Miss Laporte pretty well, too, while hewas in law school in New York. But when he settled down to work he seemsto have forgotten all about the girls for a couple of years or so. Hewas very anxious to get ahead, and let nothing stand in his way. He wasadmitted to the bar and taken in by his father as junior member of thefirm of Templeton, Mills & Templeton. Not long ago he was appointeda special master to take testimony in the get-rich-quick-companyprosecutions, and I happen to know that he was making good in theinvestigation. "

Kennedy nodded. "What sort of fellow personally was Templeton?" heasked. 

"Very popular, " replied the district attorney, "both at the countryclub and in his profession in New York. He was a fellow of naturallycommanding temperament--the Templetons were always that way. I doubt ifmany young men even with his chances could have gained such a reputationat thirty-five as his. Socially he was very popular, too, a greatcatch for all the sly mamas of the country club who had marriageabledaughters. He liked automobiles and outdoor sports, and he was strong inpolitics, too. That was how he got ahead so fast. 

"Well, to cut the story short, Templeton met the Wainwright girls againlast summer at a resort on Long Island. They had just returned from along trip abroad, spending most of the time in the Far East with theirfather, whose firm has business interests in China. The girls were veryattractive. They rode and played tennis and golf better than most of themen, and this fall Templeton became a frequent visitor at the Wainwrighthome in Williston. 

"People who know them best tell me that his first attentions were paidto Marian, a very dashing and ambitious young woman. Nearly every dayTempleton's car stopped at the house and the girls and some friend ofTempleton's in the country club went for a ride. They tell me that atthis time Marian always sat with Templeton on the front seat. Butafter a few weeks the gossips--nothing of that sort ever escapesWilliston--said that the occupant of the front seat was Laura. She oftendrove the car herself and was very clever at it. At any rate, not longafter that the engagement was announced. "

As he walked up from the pretty little Williston station Kennedy asked:"One more question, Mr. Whitney. How did Marian take the engagement?"

The district attorney hesitated. "I will be perfectly frank, Mr. Kennedy, " he answered. "The country-club people tell me that the girlswere very cool toward each other. That was why I got that statement fromMrs. Wainwright. I wish to be perfectly fair to everyone concerned inthis case. "

We found the coroner quite willing to talk, in spite of the fact thatthe hour was late. "My friend, Mr. Whitney, here, still holds the poisontheory, " began the coroner, "in spite of the fact that everything pointsabsolutely toward asphyxiation. If I had been able to discover theslightest trace of illuminating-gas in the room I should have pronouncedit asphyxia at once. All the symptoms accorded with it. But the asphyxiawas not caused by escaping illuminating-gas. 

"There was an antique charcoal-brazier in the room, and I haveascertained that it was lighted. Now, anything like a brazier will, unless there is proper ventilation, give rise to carbonic oxideor carbon monoxide gas, which is always present in the products ofcombustion, often to the extent of from five to ten per cent. A veryslight quantity of this gas, insufficient even to cause an odour in aroom, will give a severe headache, and a case is recorded where a wholefamily in Glasgow was poisoned without knowing it by the escape of thisgas. A little over one per cent of it in the atmosphere is fatal, if breathed for any length of time. You know, it is a product ofcombustion, and is very deadly--it is the much-dreaded white damp orafterdamp of a mine explosion. 

"I'm going to tell you a secret which I have not given out to the pressyet. I tried an experiment in a closed room today, lighting the brazier. Some distance from it I placed a cat confined in a cage so it could notescape. In an hour and a half the cat was asphyxiated. "

The coroner concluded with an air of triumph that quite squelched thedistrict attorney. 

Kennedy was all attention. "Have you preserved samples of the blood ofMr. Templeton and Miss Wainwright?" he asked. 

"Certainly. I have them in my office. "

The coroner, who was also a local physician, led us back into hisprivate office. 

"And the cat?" added Craig. 

Doctor Nott produced it in a covered basket. 

Quickly Kennedy drew off a little of the blood of the cat and held it upto the light along with the human samples. The difference was apparent. 

"You see, " he explained, "carbon monoxide combines firmly with theblood, destroying the red colouring matter of the red corpuscles. No, Doctor, I'm afraid it wasn't carbonic oxide that killed the lovers, although it certainly killed the cat. "

Doctor Nott was crestfallen, but still unconvinced. "If my whole medicalreputation were at stake, " he repeated, "I should still be compelled toswear to asphyxia. I've seen it too often, to make a mistake. Carbonicoxide or not, Templeton and Miss Wainwright were asphyxiated. "

It was now Whitney's chance to air his theory. 

"I have always inclined toward the cyanide-of-potassium theory, eitherthat it was administered in a drink or perhaps injected by a needle, " hesaid. "One of the chemists has reported that there was a possibility ofslight traces of cyanide in the mouths. "

"If it had been cyanide, " replied Craig, looking reflectively at the twojars before him on the table, "these blood specimens would be blue incolour and clotted. But they are not. Then, too, there is a substancein the saliva which is used in the process of digestion. It gives areaction which might very easily be mistaken for a slight trace ofcyanide. I think that explains what the chemist discovered; no more, noless. The cyanide theory does not fit. "

"One chemist hinted at nux vomica, " volunteered the coroner. "He saidit wasn't nux vomica, but that the blood test showed something verymuch like it. Oh, we've looked for morphine chloroform, ether, all theordinary poisons, besides some of the little known alkaloids. Believeme, Professor Kennedy, it was asphyxia. "

I could tell by the look that crossed Kennedy's face that at last a rayof light had pierced the darkness. "Have you any spirits of turpentinein the office?" he asked. 

The coroner shook his head and took a step toward the telephone as if tocall the drug-store in town. 

"Or ether?" interrupted Craig. "Ether will do. "

"Oh, yes, plenty of ether. "

Craig poured a little of one of the blood samples from the jar into atube and added a few drops of ether. A cloudy dark precipitate formed. He smiled quietly and said, half to himself, "I thought so. "

"What is it?" asked the coroner eagerly. "Nux vomica?"

Craig shook his head as he stared at the black precipitate. "You wereperfectly right about the asphyxiation, Doctor, " he remarkedslowly, "but wrong as to the cause. It wasn't carbon monoxide orilluminating-gas. And you, Mr. Whitney, were right about the poison, too. Only it is a poison neither of you ever heard of. "

"What is it?" we asked simultaneously. 

"Let me take these samples and make some further tests. I am sure ofit, but it is new to me. Wait till to-morrow night, when my chain ofevidence is completed. Then you are all cordially invited to attendat my laboratory at the university. I'll ask you, Mr. Whitney, tocome armed with a warrant for John or Jane Doe. Please see that theWainwrights, particularly Marian, are present. You can tell InspectorO'Connor that Mr. Vanderdyke and Mrs. Ralston are required as materialwitnesses--anything so long as you are sure that these five persons arepresent. Good night, gentlemen. "

We rode back to the city in silence, but as we neared the station, Kennedy remarked: "You see, Walter, these people are like thenewspapers. They are floundering around in a sea of unrelated facts. There is more than they think back of this crime. I've been revolvingin my mind how it will be possible to get some inkling about thisconcession of Vanderdyke's, the mining claim of Mrs. Ralston, and theexact itinerary of the Wainwright trip in the Far East. Do you thinkyou can get that information for me? I think it will take me all dayto-morrow to isolate this poison and get things in convincing shape onthat score. Meanwhile if you can see Vanderdyke and Mrs. Ralston youcan help me a great deal. I am sure you will find them very interestingpeople. "

"I have been told that she is quite a female high financier, " I replied, tacitly accepting Craig's commission. "Her story is that her claim issituated near the mine of a group of powerful American capitalists, whoare opposed to having any competition, and on the strength of thatstory she has been raking in the money right and left. I don't knowVanderdyke, never heard of him before, but no doubt he has some equallyinteresting game. "

"Don't let them think you connect them with the case, however, "cautioned Craig. 

Early the next morning I started out on my quest for facts, though notso early but that Kennedy had preceded me to his work in his laboratory. It was not very difficult to get Mrs. Ralston to talk about her troubleswith the government. In fact, I did not even have to broach the subjectof the death of Templeton. She volunteered the information that in hishandling of her case he had been very unjust to her, in spite of thefact that she had known him well a long time ago. She even hinted thatshe believed he represented the combination of capitalists whowere using the government to aid their own monopoly and prevent thedevelopment of her mine. Whether it was an obsession of her mind, or merely part of her clever scheme, I could not make out. I noted, however, that when she spoke of Templeton it was in a studied, impersonal way, and that she was at pains to lay the blame for thegovernmental interference rather on the rival mine-owners. 

It quite surprised me when I found from the directory that Vanderdyke'soffice was on the floor below in the same building. Like Mrs. Ralston's, it was open, but not doing business, pending the investigation by thePost-Office Department. 

Vanderdyke was a type of which I had seen many before. Well dressed tothe extreme, he displayed all those evidences of prosperity which arethe stock in trade of the man with securities to sell. He graspedmy hand when I told him I was going to present the other side of thepost-office cases and held it between both of his as if he had known meall his life. Only the fact that he had never seen me before preventedhis calling me by my first name. I took mental note of his stock ofjewellery, the pin in his tie that might almost have been the Hopediamond, the heavy watch chain across his chest, and a very brilliantseal ring of lapis lazuli on the hand that grasped mine. He saw melooking at it and smiled. 

"My dear fellow, we have deposits of that stuff that would make afortune if we could get the machinery to get at it. Why, sir, there islapis lazuli enough on our claim to make enough ultramarine paint tosupply all the artists to the end of the world. Actually we could affordto crush it up and sell it as paint. And that is merely incidental tothe other things on the concession. The asphalt's the thing. That'swhere the big money is. When we get started, sir, the old asphalt trustwill simply melt away, melt away. "

He blew a cloud of tobacco smoke and let it dissolve significantly inthe air. 

When it came to talking about the suits, however, Vanderdyke was notso communicative as Mrs. Ralston, but he was also not so bitter againsteither the post-office or Templeton. 

"Poor Templeton, " he said. "I used to know him years ago when we wereboys. Went to school with him and all that sort of thing, you know, but until I ran across him, or rather he ran across me, in thisinvestigation I hadn't heard much about him. Pretty clever fellow hewas, too. The state will miss him, but my lawyer tells me that weshould have won the suit anyhow, even if that unfortunate tragedy hadn'toccurred. Most unaccountable, wasn't it? I've read about it in thepapers for old time's sake, and can make nothing out of it. "

I said nothing, but wondered how he could pass so lightheartedly overthe death of the woman who had once been his wife. However, I saidnothing. The result was he launched forth again on the riches of hisVenezuelan concession and loaded me down with "literature, " which Icrammed into my pocket for future reference. 

My next step was to drop into the office of a Spanish-America paperwhose editor was especially well informed on South American affairs. 

"Do I know Mrs. Ralston?" he repeated, thoughtfully lighting one ofthose black cigarettes that look so vicious and are so mild. "I shouldsay so. I'll tell you a little story about her. Three or four yearsago she turned up in Caracas. I don't know who Mr. Ralston was--perhapsthere never was any Mr. Ralston. Anyhow, she got in with the officialcircle of the Castro government and was very successful as anadventuress. She has considerable business ability and representeda certain group of Americans. But, if you recall, when Castro waseliminated pretty nearly everyone who had stood high with him went, too. It seems that a number of the old concessionaires played the game onboth sides. This particular group had a man named Vanderdyke on theanti-Castro side. So, when Mrs. Ralston went, she just quietly sailed byway of Panama to the other side of the continent, to Peru--they paid herwell--and Vanderdyke took the title role. 

"Oh, yes, she and Vanderdyke were very good friends, very, indeed. Ithink they must have known each other here in the States. Still theyplayed their parts well at the time. Since things have settled down inVenezuela, the concessionaires have found no further use for Vanderdykeeither, and here they are, Vanderdyke and Mrs. Ralston, both in New Yorknow, with two of the most outrageous schemes of financing ever seen onBroad Street. They have offices in the same building, they are togethera great deal, and now I hear that the state attorney-general is afterboth of them. "

With this information and a very meagre report of the Wainwright trip tothe Far East, which had taken in some out-of-the-way places apparently, I hastened back to Kennedy. He was surrounded by bottles, tubes, jars, retorts, Bunsen burners, everything in the science and art of chemistry, I thought. 

I didn't like the way he looked. His hand was unsteady, and his eyeslooked badly, but he seemed quite put out when I suggested that he wasworking too hard over the case. I was worried about him, but rather thansay anything to offend him I left him for the rest of the afternoon, only dropping in before dinner to make sure that he would not forget toeat something. He was then completing his preparations for the evening. They were of the simplest kind, apparently. In fact, all I could see wasan apparatus which consisted of a rubber funnel, inverted and attachedto a rubber tube which led in turn into a jar about a quarter full ofwater. Through the stopper of the jar another tube led to a tank ofoxygen. 

There were several jars of various liquids on the table and a numberof chemicals. Among other things was a sort of gourd, encrusted with ablack substance, and in a corner was a box from which sounds issued asif it contained something alive. 

I did not trouble Kennedy with questions, for I was only too glad whenhe consented to take a brisk walk and join me in a thick porterhouse. 

It was a large party that gathered in Kennedy's laboratory that night, one of the largest he had ever had. Mr. And Mrs. Wainwright and MissMarian came, the ladies heavily veiled. Doctor Nott and Mr. Whitney wereamong the first to arrive. Later came Mr. Vanderdyke and last of allMrs. Ralston with Inspector O'Connor. Altogether it was an unwillingparty. 

"I shall begin, " said Kennedy, "by going over, briefly, the facts inthis case. "

Tersely he summarised it, to my surprise laying great stress on theproof that the couple had been asphyxiated. 

"But it was no ordinary asphyxiation, " he continued. "We have to deal inthis case with a poison which is apparently among the most subtle known. A particle of matter so minute as to be hardly distinguishable by thenaked eye, on the point of a needle or a lancet, a prick of the skinscarcely felt under any circumstances and which would pass quiteunheeded if the attention were otherwise engaged, and not all the powerin the world--unless one was fully prepared--could save the life of theperson in whose skin the puncture had been made. "

Craig paused a moment, but no one showed any evidence of being more thanordinarily impressed. 

"This poison, I find, acts on the so-called endplates of the muscles andnerves. It produces complete paralysis, but not loss of consciousness, sensation, circulation, or respiration until the end approaches. Itseems to be one of the most powerful sedatives I have ever heard of. When introduced in even a minute quantity it produces death finally byasphyxiation--by paralysing the muscles of respiration. This asphyxia iswhat so puzzled the coroner. 

"I will now inject a little of the blood serum of the victims into awhite mouse. "

He took a mouse from the box I had seen, and with a needle injected theserum. The mouse did not even wince, so lightly did he touch it, but aswe watched, its life seemed gently to ebb away, without pain and withoutstruggle. Its breath simply seemed to stop. 

Next he took the gourd I had seen on the table and with a knife scrapedoff just the minutest particle of the black licorice-like stuff thatencrusted it. He dissolved the particle in some alcohol and with asterilised needle repeated his experiment on a second mouse. The effectwas precisely similar to that produced by the blood on the first. 

It did not seem to me that anyone showed any emotion except possiblythe slight exclamation that escaped Miss Marian Wainwright. I fellto wondering whether it was prompted by a soft heart or a guiltyconscience. 

We were all intent on what Craig was doing, especially Doctor Nott, whonow broke in with a question. 

"Professor Kennedy, may I ask a question? Admitting that the first mousedied in an apparently similar manner to the second, what proof have youthat the poison is the same in both cases? And if it is the same can youshow that it affects human beings in the same way, and that enough ofit has been discovered in the blood of the victims to have caused theirdeath? In other words, I want the last doubt set aside. How do you knowabsolutely that this poison which you discovered in my office last nightin that black precipitate when you added the ether--how do you know thatit asphyxiated the victims?"

If ever Craig startled me it was by his quiet reply. "I've isolatedit in their blood, extracted it, sterilised it, and I've tried it onmyself. "

In breathless amazement, with eyes riveted on Craig, we listened. 

"Altogether I was able to recover from the blood samples of both ofthe victims of this crime six centigrams of the poison, " he pursued. "Starting with two centigrams of it as a moderate dose, I injected itinto my right arm subcutaneously. Then I slowly worked my way upto three and then four centigrams. They did not produce any veryappreciable results other than to cause some dizziness, slight vertigo, a considerable degree of lassitude, and an extremely painful headacheof rather unusual duration. But five centigrams considerably improvedon this. It caused a degree of vertigo and lassitude that was mostdistressing, and six centigrams, the whole amount which I had recoveredfrom the samples of blood, gave me the fright of my life right here inthis laboratory this afternoon. 

"Perhaps I was not wise in giving myself so large an injection on a daywhen I was overheated and below par otherwise because of the strain Ihave been under in handling this case. However that may be, the addedcentigram produced so much more on top of the five centigrams previouslytaken that for a time I had reason to fear that that additionalcentigram was just the amount needed to bring my experiments to apermanent close. 

"Within three minutes of the time of injection the dizziness and vertigohad become so great as to make walking seem impossible. In anotherminute the lassitude rapidly crept over me, and the serious disturbanceof my breathing made it apparent to me that walking, waving my arms, anything, was imperative. My lungs felt glued up, and the muscles of mychest refused to work. Everything swam before my eyes, and I was soonreduced to walking up and down the laboratory with halting steps, onlypreventing falling on the floor by holding fast to the edge of thistable. It seemed to me that I spent hours gasping for breath. Itreminded me of what I once experienced in the Cave of the Winds ofNiagara, where water is more abundant in the atmosphere than air. Mywatch afterward indicated only about twenty minutes of extreme distress, but that twenty minutes is one never to be forgotten, and I advise youall, if you ever are so foolish as to try the experiment, to remainbelow the five-centigram limit. 

"How much was administered to the victims, Doctor Nott, I cannot say, but it must have been a good deal more than I took. Six centigrams, which I recovered from these small samples, are only nine-tenths ofa grain. Yet you see what effect it had. I trust that answers yourquestion. "

Doctor Nott was too overwhelmed to reply. 

"And what is this deadly poison?" continued Craig, anticipating ourthoughts. "I have been fortunate enough to obtain a sample of it fromthe Museum of Natural History. It comes in a little gourd, or often acalabash. This is in a gourd. It is blackish brittle stuff encrustingthe sides of the gourd just as if it was poured in in the liquid stateand left to dry. Indeed, that is just what has been done by those whomanufacture this stuff after a lengthy and somewhat secret process. "

He placed the gourd on the edge of the table where we could all see it. I was almost afraid even to look at it. 

"The famous traveller, Sir Robert Schomburgh first brought it intoEurope, and Darwin has described it. It is now an article of commerceand is to be found in the United States Pharmacopoeia as a medicine, though of course it is used in only very minute quantities, as a heartstimulant. "

Craig opened a book to a place he had marked:

"At least one person in this room will appreciate the local colour of alittle incident I am going to read--to illustrate what death from thispoison is like. Two natives of the part of the world whence it comeswere one day hunting. They were armed with blowpipes and quivers fullof poisoned darts made of thin charred pieces of bamboo tipped with thisstuff. One of them aimed a dart. It missed the object overhead, glancedoff the tree, and fell down on the hunter himself. This is how the othernative reported the result:

"'Quacca takes the dart out of his shoulder. Never a word. Puts it inhis quiver and throws it in the stream. Gives me his blowpipe for hislittle son. Says to me good-bye for his wife and the village. Then helies down. His tongue talks no longer. No sight in his eyes. He foldshis arms. He rolls over slowly. His mouth moves without sound. I feelhis heart. It goes fast and then slow. It stops. Quacca has shot hislast woorali dart. '"

We looked at each other, and the horror of the thing sank deep into ourminds. Woorali. What was it? There were many travellers in the room whohad been in the Orient, home of poisons, and in South America. Which onehad run across the poison?

"Woorali, or curare, " said Craig slowly, "is the well-known poison withwhich the South American Indians of the upper Orinoco tip their arrows. Its principal ingredient is derived from the Strychnos toxifera tree, which yields also the drug nux vomica. "

A great light dawned on me. I turned quickly to where Vanderdyke wassitting next to Mrs. Ralston, and a little behind her. His stony stareand laboured breathing told me that he had read the purport of Kennedy'sactions. 

"For God's sake, Craig, " I gasped. "An emetic, quick--Vanderdyke. "

A trace of a smile flitted over Vanderdyke's features, as much as to saythat he was beyond our interference. 

"Vanderdyke, " said Craig, with what seemed to me a brutal calmness, "then it was you who were the visitor who last saw Laura Wainwright andJohn Templeton alive. Whether you shot a dart at them I do not know. Butyou are the murderer. "

Vanderdyke raised his hand as if to assent. It fell back limp, and Inoted the ring of the bluest lapis lazuli. 

Mrs. Ralston threw herself toward him. "Will you not do something? Isthere no antidote? Don't let him die!" she cried. 

"You are the murderer, " repeated Kennedy, as if demanding a finalanswer. 

Again the hand moved in confession, and he feebly moved the finger onwhich shone the ring. 

Our attention was centred on Vanderdyke. Mrs. Ralston, unobserved, wentto the table and picked up the gourd. Before O'Connor could stop hershe had rubbed her tongue on the black substance inside. It was only alittle bit, for O'Connor quickly dashed it from her lips and threw thegourd through the window, smashing the glass. 

"Kennedy, " he shouted frantically, "Mrs. Ralston has swallowed some ofit. "

Kennedy seemed so intent on Vanderdyke that I had to repeat the remark. 

Without looking up, he said: "Oh, one can swallow it--it's strange, but it is comparatively inert if swallowed even in a pretty good-sizedquantity. I doubt if Mrs. Ralston ever heard of it before except byhearsay. If she had, she'd have scratched herself with it instead ofswallowing it. "

If Craig had been indifferent to the emergency of Vanderdyke before, he was all action now that the confession had been made. In an instantVanderdyke was stretched on the floor and Craig had taken out theapparatus I had seen during the afternoon. 

"I am prepared for this, " he exclaimed quickly. "Here is the apparatusfor artificial respiration. Nott, hold that rubber funnel over his nose, and start the oxygen from the tank. Pull his tongue forward so it won'tfall down his throat and choke him. I'll work his arms. Walter, make atourniquet of your handkerchief and put it tightly on the muscles ofhis left arm. That may keep some of the poison in his arm from spreadinginto the rest of his body. This is the only antidote known--artificialrespiration. "

Kennedy was working feverishly, going through the motions of firstaid to a drowned man. Mrs. Ralston was on her knees beside Vanderdyke, kissing his hands and forehead whenever Kennedy stopped for a minute, and crying softly. 

"Schuyler, poor boy, I wonder how you could have done it. I was with himthat day. We rode up in his car, and as we passed through Williston hesaid he would stop a minute and wish Templeton luck. I didn't think itstrange, for he said he had nothing any longer against Laura Wainwright, and Templeton only did his duty as a lawyer against us. I forgave Johnfor prosecuting us, but Schuyler didn't, after all. Oh, my poor boy, whydid you do it? We could have gone somewhere else and started all overagain--it wouldn't have been the first time. "

At last came the flutter of an eyelid and a voluntary breath or two. Vanderdyke seemed to realise where he was. With a last supreme effort heraised his hand and drew it slowly across his face. Then he fell back, exhausted by the effort. 

But he had at last put himself beyond the reach of the law. There was notourniquet that would confine the poison now in the scratch across hisface. Back of those lack-lustre eyes he heard and knew, but could notmove or speak. His voice was gone, his limbs, his face, his chest, and, last, his eyes. I wondered if it were possible to conceive a moredreadful torture than that endured by a mind which so witnessed thedying of one organ after another of its own body, shut up, as it were, in the fulness of life, within a corpse. 

I looked in bewilderment at the scratch on his face. "How did he do it?"I asked. 

Carefully Craig drew off the azure ring and examined it. In that partwhich surrounded the blue lapis lazuli, he indicated a hollow point, concealed. It worked with a spring and communicated with a littlereceptacle behind, in such a way that the murderer could give the fatalscratch while shaking hands with his victim. 

I shuddered, for my hand had once been clasped by the one wearingthat poison ring, which had sent Templeton, and his fiancee and nowVanderdyke himself, to their deaths. 

VIII. "Spontaneous Combustion"

Kennedy and I had risen early, for we were hustling to get off for aweek-end at Atlantic City. Kennedy was tugging at the straps of his gripand remonstrating with it under his breath, when the door opened and amessenger-boy stuck his head in. 

"Does Mr. Kennedy live here?" he asked. 

Craig impatiently seized the pencil, signed his name in the book, andtore open a night letter. From the prolonged silence that followed Ifelt a sense of misgiving. I, at least, had set my heart on the AtlanticCity outing, but with the appearance of the messenger-boy I intuitivelyfelt that the board walk would not see us that week. 

"I'm afraid the Atlantic City trip is off, Walter, " remarked Craigseriously. "You remember Tom Langley in our class at the university?Well, read that. "

I laid down my safety razor and took the message. Tom had not sparedwords, and I could see at a glance at the mere length of the thing thatit must be important. It was from Camp Hang-out in the Adirondacks. 

"Dear old K. , " it began, regardless of expense, "can you arrange to comeup here by next train after you receive this? Uncle Lewis is dead. Mostmysterious. Last night after we retired noticed peculiar odour abouthouse. Didn't pay much attention. This morning found him lying on floorof living-room, head and chest literally burned to ashes, but lower partof body and arms untouched. Room shows no evidence of fire, but full ofsort of oily soot. Otherwise nothing unusual. On table near body siphonof seltzer, bottle of imported limes, and glass for rickeys. Haveremoved body, but am keeping room exactly as found until you arrive. Bring Jameson. Wire if you cannot come, but make every effort and spareno expense. Anxiously, Tom Langley. "

Craig was impatiently looking at his watch as I hastily ran through theletter. 

"Hurry, Walter, " he exclaimed. "We can just catch the Empire State. Never mind shaving--we'll have a stopover at Utica to wait for theMontreal express. Here, put the rest of your things in your grip andjam it shut. We'll get something to eat on the train--I hope. I'll wirewe're coming. Don't forget to latch the door. "

Kennedy was already half-way to the elevator, and I followed ruefully, still thinking of the ocean and the piers, the bands and the rollerchairs. 

It was a good ten-hour journey up to the little station nearest CampHang-out and at least a two hour ride after that. We had plenty of timeto reflect over what this death might mean to Tom and his sister and tospeculate on the manner of it. Tom and Grace Langley were relatives bymarriage of Lewis Langley, who, after the death of his wife, had madethem his proteges. Lewis Langley was principally noted, as far as Icould recall, for being a member of some of the fastest clubs of bothNew York and London. Neither Kennedy nor myself had shared in theworld's opinion of him, for we knew how good he had been to Tom incollege and, from Tom, how good he had been to Grace. In fact, he hadmade Tom assume the Langley name, and in every way had treated thebrother and sister as if they had been his own children. 

Tom met us with a smart trap at the station, a sufficient indication, if we had not already known, of the "roughing it" at such a luxuriousAdirondack "camp" as Camp Hang-out. He was unaffectedly glad to see us, and it was not difficult to read in his face the worry which the affairhad already given him. 

"Tom; I'm awfully sorry to--" began Craig when, warned by Langley'slook at the curious crowd that always gathers at the railroad stationat train time, he cut it short. We stood silently a moment while Tom wasarranging the trap for us. 

As we swung around the bend in the road that cut off the little stationand its crowd of lookers-on, Kennedy was the first to speak. "Tom, " hesaid, "first of all, let me ask that when we get to the camp we areto be simply two old classmates whom you had asked to spend a few daysbefore the tragedy occurred. Anything will do. There may be nothing atall to your evident suspicions, and then again there may. At anyrate, play the game safely--don't arouse any feeling which might causeunpleasantness later in case you are mistaken. "

"I quite agree with you, " answered Tom. "You wired, from Albany, Ithink, to keep the facts out of the papers as much as possible. I'mafraid it is too late for that. Of course the thing became vaguely knownin Saranac, although the county officers have been very considerate ofus, and this morning a New York Record correspondent was over and talkedwith us. I couldn't refuse, that would have put a very bad face on it. "

"Too bad, " I exclaimed. "I had hoped, at least, to be able to keep thereport down to a few lines in the Star. But the Record will have sucha yellow story about it that I'll simply have to do something tocounteract the effect. "

"Yes, " assented Craig. "But--wait. Let's see the Record story first. Theoffice doesn't know you're up here. You can hold up the Star and giveus time to look things over, perhaps get in a beat on the real story andset things right. Anyhow, the news is out. That's certain. We must workquickly. Tell me, Tom, who are at the camp--anyone except relatives?"

"No, " he replied, guardedly measuring his words. "Uncle Lewis hadinvited his brother James and his niece and nephew, Isabelle and James, junior--we call him Junior. Then there are Grace and myself anda distant relative, Harrington Brown, and--oh, of course, uncle'sphysician, Doctor Putnam. "

"Who is Harrington Brown" asked Craig. 

"He's on the other side of the Langley family, on Uncle Lewis's mother'sside. I think, or at least Grace thinks, that he is quite in love withIsabelle. Harrington Brown would be quite a catch. Of course he isn'twealthy, but his family is mighty well connected. Oh, Craig, " sighedLangley, "I wish he hadn't done it--Uncle Lewis, I mean. Why did heinvite his brother up here now when he needed to recover from the swiftpace of last winter in New York? You know--or you don't know, I suppose, but you'll know it now--when he and Uncle Jim got together there wasnothing to it but one drink after another. Doctor Putnam was quitedisgusted, at least he professed to be, but, Craig, " he lowered hisvoice to a whisper, as if the very forest had ears, "they're allalike--they've been just waiting for Uncle Lewis to drink himself todeath. Oh, " he added bitterly, "there's no love lost between me and therelatives on that score, I can assure you. "

"How did you find him that morning?" asked Kennedy, as if to turn offthis unlocking of family secrets to strangers. 

"That's the worst part of the whole affair, " replied Tom, and even inthe dusk I could see the lines of his face tighten. "You know UncleLewis was a hard drinker, but he never seemed to show it much. Wehad been out on the lake in the motor-boat fishing all the afternoonand--well, I must admit both my uncles had had frequent recourse to'pocket pistols, ' and I remember they referred to it each time as'bait. ' Then after supper nothing would do but fizzes and rickeys. I wasdisgusted, and after reading a bit went to bed. Harrington and my unclessat up with Doctor Putnam--according to Uncle Jim--for a couple ofhours longer. Then Harrington, Doctor Putnam, and Uncle Jim went to bed, leaving Uncle Lewis still drinking. I remember waking in the night, andthe house seemed saturated with a peculiar odour. I never smelt anythinglike it in my life. So I got up and slipped into my bathrobe. I metGrace in the hall. She was sniffing. 

"'Don't you smell something burning?' she asked. 

"I said I did and started down-stairs to investigate. Everything wasdark, but that smell was all over the house. I looked in eachroom down-stairs as I went, but could see nothing. The kitchen anddining-room were all right. I glanced into the living-room, but, whilethe smell was more noticeable there, I could see no evidence of a fireexcept the dying embers on the hearth. It had been coolish that night, and we had had a few logs blazing. I didn't examine the room--thereseemed no reason for it. We went back to our rooms, and in the morningthey found the gruesome object I had missed in the darkness and shadowsof the living-room. "

Kennedy was intently listening. "Who found him?" he asked. 

"Harrington, " replied Tom. "He roused us. Harrington's theory is thatuncle set himself on fire with a spark from his cigar--a charred cigarbutt was found on the floor. "

We found Tom's relatives a saddened, silent party in the face of thetragedy. Kennedy and I apologised very profusely for our intrusion, butTom quickly interrupted, as we had agreed, by explaining that he hadinsisted on our coming, as old friends on whom he felt he could rely, especially to set the matter right in the newspapers. 

I think Craig noticed keenly the reticence of the family group in themystery--I might almost have called it suspicion. They did not seem toknow just whether to take it as an accident or as something worse, and each seemed to entertain a reserve toward the rest which was veryuncomfortable. 

Mr. Langley's attorney in New York had been notified, but apparently wasout of town, for he had not been heard from. They seemed rather anxiousto get word from him. 

Dinner over, the family group separated, leaving Tom an opportunity totake us into the gruesome living-room. Of course the remains hadbeen removed, but otherwise the room was exactly as it had been whenHarrington discovered the tragedy. I did not see the body, which waslying in an anteroom, but Kennedy did, and spent some time in there. 

After he rejoined us, Kennedy next examined the fireplace. It was fullof ashes from the logs which had been lighted on the fatal night. He noted attentively the distance of Lewis Langley's chair from thefireplace, and remarked that the varnish on the chair was not evenblistered. 

Before the chair, on the floor where the body had been found, he pointedout to us the peculiar ash-marks for some space around, but it reallyseemed to me as if something else interested him more than theseash-marks. 

We had been engaged perhaps half an hour in viewing the room. At lastCraig suddenly stopped. 

"Tom, " he said, "I think I'll wait till daylight before I go anyfurther. I can't tell with certainty under these lights, though perhapsthey show me some things the sunlight wouldn't show. We'd better leaveeverything just as it is until morning. "

So we locked the room again and went into a sort of library across thehall. 

We were sitting in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts on themystery, when the telephone rang. It proved to be a long-distance callfrom New York for Tom himself. His uncle's attorney had received thenews at his home out on Long Island and had hurried to the city to takecharge of the estate. But that was not the news that caused the gravelook on Tom's face as he nervously rejoined us. 

"That was uncle's lawyer, Mr. Clark, of Clark & Burdick, " he said. "He has opened uncle's personal safe in the offices of the Langleyestate--you remember them, Craig--where all the property of the Langleyheirs is administered by the trustees. He says he can't find the will, though he knows there was a will and that it was placed in that safesome time ago. There is no duplicate. "

The full purport of this information at once flashed on me, and I wason the point of blurting out my sympathy, when I saw by the look whichCraig and Tom exchanged that they had already realised it and understoodeach other. Without the will the blood-relatives would inherit all ofLewis Langley's interest in the old Langley estate. Tom and his sisterwould be penniless. 

It was late, yet we sat for nearly an hour longer, and I don't think weexchanged a half-dozen sentences in all that time. Craig seemed absorbedin thought. At length, as the great hall-clock sounded midnight, we roseas if by common consent. 

"Tom, " said Craig, and I could feel the sympathy that welled up in hisvoice, "Tom, old man, I'll get at the bottom of this mystery if humanintelligence can do it. "

"I know you will, Craig, " responded Tom, grasping each of us by thehand. "That's why I so much wanted you fellows to come up here. "

Early in the morning Kennedy aroused me. "Now, Walter, I'm going to askyou to come down into the living-room with me, and we'll take a look atit in the daytime. "

I hurried into my clothes, and together we quietly went down. Startingwith the exact spot where the unfortunate man had been discovered, Kennedy began a minute examination of the floor, using his pocket lens. Every few moments he would stop to examine a spot on the rug or onthe hardwood floor more intently. Several times I saw him scrapeup something with the blade of his knife and carefully preserve thescrapings, each in a separate piece of paper. 

Sitting idly by, I could not for the life of me see just what good itdid for me to be there, and I said as much. Kennedy laughed quietly. 

"You're a material witness, Walter, " he replied. "Perhaps I shall needyou some day to testify that I actually found these spots in this room. "

Just then Tom stuck his head in. "Can I help?" he asked. "Why didn't youtell me you were going at it so early?"

"No, thanks, " answered Craig, rising from the floor. "I was just makinga careful examination of the room before anyone was up so that nobodywould think I was too interested. I've finished. But you can help me, after all. Do you think you could describe exactly how everyone wasdressed that night?"

"Why, I can try. Let me see. To begin with, uncle had on ashooting-jacket--that was pretty well burnt, as you know. Why, in fact, we all had our shooting-jackets on. The ladies were in white. "

Craig pondered a little, but did not seem disposed to pursue the subjectfurther, until Tom volunteered the information that since the tragedynone of them had been wearing their shooting jackets. 

"We've all been wearing city clothes, " he remarked. 

"Could you get your Uncle James and your Cousin Junior to go withyou for an hour or two this morning on the lake, or on a tramp in thewoods?" asked Craig after a moment's thought. 

"Really, Craig, " responded Tom doubtfully, "I ought to go to Saranac tocomplete the arrangements for taking Uncle Lewis's body to New York. "

"Very well, persuade them to go with you. Anything, so long as you keepme from interruption for an hour or two. "

They agreed on doing that, and as by that time most of the family wereup, we went in to breakfast, another silent and suspicious meal. 

After breakfast Kennedy tactfully withdrew from the family, and I didthe same. We wandered off in the direction of the stables and there fellto admiring some of the horses. The groom, who seemed to be a sensibleand pleasant sort of fellow, was quite ready to talk, and soon he andCraig were deep in discussing the game of the north country. 

"Many rabbits about here?" asked Kennedy at length, when they hadexhausted the larger game. 

"Oh, yes. I saw one this morning, sir, " replied the groom. 

"Indeed?" said Kennedy. "Do you suppose you could catch a couple forme?"

"Guess I could, sir--alive, you mean?"

"Oh, yes, alive--I don't want you to violate the game laws. This is theclosed season, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir, but then it's all right, sir, here on the estate. "

"Bring them to me this afternoon, or--no, keep them here in the stablein a cage and let me know when you have them. If anybody asks you aboutthem, say they belong to Mr. Tom. "

Craig handed a small treasury note to the groom, who took it with a grinand touched his hat. 

"Thanks, " he said. "I'll let you know when I have the bunnies. "

As we walked slowly back from the stables we caught sight of Tom downat the boat-house just putting off in the motor-boat with his uncle andcousin. Craig waved to him, and he walked up to meet us. 

"While you're in Saranac, " said Craig, "buy me a dozen or so test-tubes. Only, don't let anyone here at the house know you are buying them. Theymight ask questions. "

While they were gone Kennedy stole into James Langley's room and aftera few minutes returned to our room with the hunting-jacket. He carefullyexamined it with his pocket lens. Then he filled a drinking-glass withwarm boiled water and added a few pinches of table salt. With a pieceof sterilised gauze from Doctor Putnam's medicine-chest, he carefullywashed off a few portions of the coat and set the glass and the gauzesoaking in it aside. Then he returned the coat to the closet wherehe had found it. Next, as silently, he stole into Junior's room andrepeated the process with his hunting-jacket, using another glass andpiece of gauze. 

"While I am out of the room, Walter, " he said, "I want you to take thesetwo glasses, cover them, and number them and on a slip of paper whichyou must retain, place the names of the owners of the respective coats. I don't like this part of it--I hate to play spy and would much rathercome out in the open, but there is nothing else to do, and it is muchbetter for all concerned that I should play the game secretly justnow. There may be no cause for suspicion at all. In that case I'd neverforgive myself for starting a family row. And then again but we shallsee. "

After I had numbered and recorded the glasses Kennedy returned, and wewent down-stairs again. 

"Curious about the will, isn't it?" I remarked as we stood on the wideverandah a moment. 

"Yes, " he replied. "It may be necessary to go back to New York to delveinto that part of it before we get through, but I hope not. We'll wait. "

At this point the groom interrupted us to say that he had caught therabbits. Kennedy at once hurried to the stable. There he rolled up hissleeves, pricked a vein in his arm, and injected a small quantity of hisown blood into one of the rabbits. The other he did not touch. 

It was late in the afternoon when Tom returned from town with his uncleand cousin. He seemed even more agitated than usual. Without a word hehurried up from the landing and sought us out. 

"What do you think of that?" he cried, opening a copy of the Record, andlaying it flat on the library table. 

There on the front page was Lewis Langley's picture with a hugescare-head:

 MYSTERIOUS CASE OF SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION

"It's all out, " groaned Tom, as we bent over to read the account. "Andsuch a story!"

Under the date of the day previous, a Saranac despatch ran:

Lewis Langley, well known as sporting man and club member in New York, and eldest son of the late Lewis Langley, the banker, was discovereddead under the most mysterious circumstances this morning at CampHangout, twelve miles from this town. 

The Death of "Old Krook" in Dickens's "Bleak House" or of the victim inone of Marryat's most thrilling tales was not more gruesome than thisactual fact. It is without doubt a case of spontaneous human combustion, such as is recorded beyond dispute in medical and medico-legaltext-books of the past two centuries. Scientists in this city consultedfor the Record agree that, while rare, spontaneous human combustion isan established fact and that everything in this curious case goes toshow that another has been added to the already well-authenticatedlist of cases recorded in America and Europe. The family refuse to beinterviewed, which seems to indicate that the rumours in medical circlesin Saranac have a solid basis of fact. 

Then followed a circumstantial account of the life of Langley and theevents leading up to the discovery of the body--fairly accurate initself, but highly coloured. 

"The Record man must have made good use of his time here, " I commented, as I finished reading the despatch. "And--well, they must have done somehard work in New York to get this story up so completely--see, afterthe despatch follow a lot of interviews, and here is a short article onspontaneous combustion itself. "

Harrington and the rest of the family had just come in. 

"What's this we hear about the Record having an article?" Harringtonasked. "Read it aloud, Professor, so we can all hear it. "

"'Spontaneous human combustion, or catacausis ebriosus, '" began Craig, "'is one of the baffling human scientific mysteries. Indeed, there canbe no doubt but that individuals have in some strange and inexplicablemanner caught fire and been partially or almost wholly consumed. 

"'Some have attributed it to gases in the body, such as carburetedhydrogen. Once it was noted at the Hotel Dieu in Paris that a body onbeing dissected gave forth a gas which was inflammable and burned with abluish flame. Others have attributed the combustion to alcohol. A toperseveral years ago in Brooklyn and New York used to make money by blowinghis breath through a wire gauze and lighting it. Whatever the cause, medical literature records seventy-six cases of catacausis in twohundred years. 

"'The combustion seems to be sudden and is apparently confined tothe cavities, the abdomen, chest, and head. Victims of ordinary fireaccidents rush hither and thither frantically, succumb from exhaustion, their limbs are burned, and their clothing is all destroyed. But incatacausis they are stricken down without warning, the limbs are rarelyburned, and only the clothing in contact with the head and chest isconsumed. The residue is like a distillation of animal tissue, grey anddark, with an overpoweringly fetid odour. They are said to burn witha flickering stifled blue flame, and water, far from arresting thecombustion, seems to add to it. Gin is particularly rich in inflammable, empyreumatic oils, as they are called, and in most cases it is recordedthat the catacausis took place among gin-drinkers, old and obese. 

"'Within the past few years cases are on record which seem to establishcatacausis beyond doubt. In one case the heat was so great as to explodea pistol in the pocket of the victim. In another, a woman, the victim'shusband was asphyxiated by the smoke. The woman weighed, one hundred andeighty pounds in life, but the ashes weighed only twelve pounds: In allthese cases the proof of spontaneous combustion seems conclusive. '"

As Craig finished reading, we looked blankly, horrified, at one another. It was too dreadful to realise. 

"What do you think of it, Professor" asked James Langley, at length. "I've read somewhere of such cases, but to think of its actuallyhappening--and to my own brother. Do you really think Lewis could havemet his death in this terrible manner?"

Kennedy made no reply. Harrington seemed absorbed in thought. A shudderpassed over us as we thought about it. But, gruesome as it was, it wasevident that the publication of the story in the Record had relieved thefeelings of the family group in one respect--it at least seemed to offeran explanation. It was noticeable that the suspicious air with whicheveryone had regarded everyone else was considerably dispelled. 

Tom said nothing until the others had withdrawn. "Kennedy, " heburst out, then, "do you believe that such combustion is absolutelyspontaneous? Don't you believe that something else is necessary to startit?"

"I'd rather not express an opinion just yet, Tom, " answered Craigcarefully. "Now, if you can get Harrington and Doctor Putnam away fromthe house for a short time, as you did with your uncle and cousin thismorning, I may be able to tell you something about this case soon. "

Again Kennedy stole into another bedroom, and returned to our room witha hunting-jacket. Just as he had done before, he carefully washed itoff with the gauze soaked in the salt solution and quickly returned thecoat, repeating the process with Doctor Putnam's coat and, last, that ofTom himself. Finally he turned his back while I sealed the glasses andmarked and recorded them on my slip. 

The next day was spent mainly in preparations for the journey to NewYork with the body of Lewis Langley. Kennedy was very busy onwhat seemed to me to be preparations for some mysterious chemicalexperiments. I found myself fully occupied in keeping specialcorrespondents from all over the country at bay. 

That evening after dinner we were all sitting in the open summer houseover the boat-house. Smudges of green pine were burning and smoking onlittle artificial islands of stone near the lake shore, lighting up thetrees on every side with a red glare. Tom and his sister were seatedwith Kennedy and myself on one side, while some distance from usHarrington was engaged in earnest conversation with Isabelle. The othermembers of the family were further removed. That seemed typical to me ofthe way the family group split up. 

"Mr. Kennedy, " remarked Grace in a thoughtful, low tone, "what do youmake of that Record article?"

"Very clever, no doubt, " replied Craig. 

"But don't you think it strange about the will?"

"Hush, " whispered Tom, for Isabelle and Harrington had ceased talkingand might perhaps be listening. 

Just then one of the servants came up with a telegram. 

Tom hastily opened it and read the message eagerly in the corner of thesummer house nearest one of the glowing smudges. I felt instinctivelythat it was from his lawyer. He turned and beckoned to Kennedy andmyself. 

"What do you think of that?" he whispered hoarsely. 

We bent over and in the flickering light read the message:

New York papers full of spontaneous combustion story. Record hadexclusive story yesterday, but all papers to-day feature even more. Is it true? Please wire additional details at once. Also immediateinstructions regarding loss of will. Has been abstracted from safe. Could Lewis Langley have taken it himself? Unless new facts soon mustmake loss public or issue statement Lewis Langley intestate. 

 DANIEL CLARK

Tom looked blankly at Kennedy, and then at his sister, who was sittingalone. I thought I could read what was passing in his mind. With allhis faults Lewis Langley had been a good foster-parent to his adoptedchildren. But it was all over now if the will was lost. 

"What can I do?" asked Tom hopelessly. "I have nothing to reply to him. "

"But I have, " quietly returned Kennedy, deliberately folding up themessage and handing it back. "Tell them all to be in the library infifteen minutes. This message hurries me a bit, but I am prepared. Youwill have something to wire Mr. Clark after that. " Then he strodeoff toward the house, leaving us to gather the group together inconsiderable bewilderment. 

A quarter of an hour later we had all assembled in the library, acrossthe hall from the room in which Lewis Langley had been found. As usualKennedy began by leaping straight into the middle of his subject. 

"Early in the eighteenth century;" he commenced slowly, "a woman wasfound burned to death. There were no clues, and the scientists of thattime suggested spontaneous combustion. This explanation was accepted. The theory always has been that the process of respiration by whichthe tissues of the body are used up and got rid of gives the body atemperature, and it has seemed that it may be possible, by preventingthe escape of this heat, to set fire to the body. "

We were leaning forward expectantly, horrified by the thought thatperhaps, after all, the Record was correct. 

"Now, " resumed Kennedy, his tone changing, "suppose we try a littleexperiment--one that was tried very convincingly by the immortal Liebig. Here is a sponge. I am going to soak it in gin from this bottle, thesame that Mr. Langley was drinking from on the night of the--er--thetragedy. "

Kennedy took the saturated sponge and placed it in an agate-iron panfrom the kitchen. Then he lighted it. The bluish flame shot upward, and in tense silence we watched it burn lower and lower, till all thealcohol was consumed. Then he picked up the sponge and passed it around. It was dry, but the sponge itself had not been singed. 

"We now know, " he continued, "that from the nature of combustion itis impossible for the human body to undergo spontaneous ignitionor combustion in the way the scientific experts of the past centurybelieved. Swathe the body in the thickest of non-conductors of heat, andwhat happens? A profuse perspiration exudes, and before such an ignitioncould possibly take place all the moisture of the body would have to beevaporated. As seventy-five per cent or more of the body is water, itis evident that enormous heat would be necessary--moisture is the greatsafeguard. The experiment which I have shown you could be duplicatedwith specimens of human organs preserved for years in alcohol inmuseums. They would burn just as this sponge--the specimen itself wouldbe very nearly uninjured by the burning of the alcohol. "

"Then, Professor Kennedy, you maintain that my brother did not meet hisdeath by such an accident" asked James Langley. 

"Exactly that, sir, " replied Craig. "One of the most important aspectsof the historic faith in this phenomenon is that of its skilfulemployment in explaining away what would otherwise appear to beconvincing circumstantial evidence in cases of accusations of murder. "

"Then how do you explain Mr. Langley's death?" demanded Harrington. "Mytheory of a spark from a cigar may be true, after all. "

"I am coming to that in a moment, " answered Kennedy quietly. "My firstsuspicion was aroused by what not even Doctor Putnam seems to havenoticed. The skull of Mr. Langley, charred and consumed as it was, seemed to show marks of violence. It might have been from a fracture ofthe skull or it might have been an accident to his remains as they werebeing removed to the anteroom. Again, his tongue seemed as though it wasprotruding. That might have been natural suffocation, or it might havebeen from forcible strangulation. So far I had nothing but conjecture towork on. But in looking over the living-room I found near the table, onthe hardwood floor, a spot--just one little round spot. Now, deductionsfrom spots, even if we know them to be blood, must be made verycarefully. I did not know this to be a blood-spot, and so was verycareful at first. 

"Let us assume it was a blood-spot, however. What did it show? It wasjust a little regular round spot, quite thick. Now, drops of bloodfalling only a few inches usually make a round spot with a smoothborder. Still the surface on which the drop falls is quite as much afactor as the height from which it falls. If the surface is roughthe border may be irregular. But this was a smooth surface and notabsorbent. The thickness of a dried blood-spot on a non-absorbentsurface is less the greater the height from which it has fallen. Thiswas a thick spot. Now if it had fallen, say, six feet, the height of Mr. Langley, the spot would have been thin--some secondary spattersmight have been seen, or at least an irregular edge around the spot. Therefore, if it was a blood-spot, it had fallen only one or two feet. I ascertained next that the lower part of the body showed no wounds orbruises whatever. 

"Tracks of blood such as are left by dragging a bleeding body differvery greatly from tracks of arterial blood which are left when thevictim has strength to move himself. Continuing my speculations, supposing it to be a blood-spot, what did it indicate? Clearly thatMr. Langley was struck by somebody on the head with a heavy instrument, perhaps in another part of the room, that he was choked, that as thedrops of blood oozed from the wound on his head, he was dragged acrossthe floor, in the direction of the fireplace--"

"But, Professor Kennedy, " interrupted Doctor Putnam, "have you provedthat the spot was a blood-spot? Might it not have been a paint-spot orsomething of that sort?"

Kennedy had apparently been waiting for just such a question. 

"Ordinarily, water has no effect on paint, " he answered. "I found thatthe spot could be washed off with water. That is not all. I have a testfor blood that is so delicately sensitive that the blood of an Egyptianmummy thousands of years old will respond to it. It was discovered bya German scientist, Doctor Uhlenhuth, and was no longer ago than lastwinter applied in England in connection with the Clapham murder. The suspected murderer declared that stains on his clothes were onlyspatters of paint, but the test proved them to be spatters of blood. Walter, bring in the cage with the rabbits. "

I opened the door and took the cage from the groom, who had brought itup from the stable and stood waiting with it some distance away. 

"This test is very simple, Doctor Putnam, " continued Craig, as I placedthe cage on the table and Kennedy unwrapped the sterilised test-tubes. "A rabbit is inoculated with human blood, and after a time the serumthat is taken from the rabbit supplies the material for the test. 

"I will insert this needle in one of these rabbits which has been soinoculated and will draw off some of the serum, which I place in thistest-tube to the right. The other rabbit has not been inoculated. I drawoff some of its serum and place that tube here on the left--we will callthat our 'control tube. ' It will check the results of our tests. 

"Wrapped up in this paper I have the scrapings of the spot which Ifound on the floor--just a few grains of dark, dried powder. To showhow sensitive the test is, I will take only one of the smallest of theseminute scrapings. I dissolve it in this third tube with distilled water. I will even divide it in half, and place the other half in this fourthtube. 

"Next I add some of the serum of the uninoculated rabbit to the half inthis tube. You observe, nothing happens. I add a little of the serum ofthe inoculated rabbit to the other half in this other tube. Observe howdelicate the test is--"

Kennedy was leaning forward, almost oblivious of the rest of us in theroom, talking almost as if to himself. We, too, had riveted our eyes onthe tubes. 

As he added the serum from the inoculated rabbit, a cloudy milky ringformed almost immediately in the hitherto colourless, very diluteblood-solution. 

"That, " concluded Craig, triumphantly holding the tube aloft, "thatconclusively proves that the little round spot on the hardwood floor wasnot paint, was not anything in this wide world but blood. "

No one in the room said a word, but I knew there must have been someonethere who thought volumes in the few minutes that elapsed. 

"Having found one blood-spot, I began to look about for more, but wasable to find only two or three traces where spots seemed to have been. The fact is that the blood spots had been apparently carefully wiped up. That is an easy matter. Hot water and salt, or hot water alone, or evencold water, will make quite short work of fresh blood-spots--at leastto all outward appearances. But nothing but a most thorough cleaningcan conceal them from the Uhlenhuth test, even when they are apparentlywiped out. It is a case of Lady Macbeth over again, crying in the faceof modern science, 'Out, out, damned spot. '

"I was able with sufficient definiteness to trace roughly a courseof blood-spots from the fireplace to a point near the door of theliving-room. But beyond the door, in the hall, nothing. "

"Still, " interrupted Harrington, "to get back to the facts in the case. They are perfectly in accord either with my theory of the cigar or theRecord's of spontaneous combustion. How do you account for the facts?"

"I suppose you refer to the charred head, the burned neck, the upperchest cavity, while the arms and legs were untouched?"

"Yes, and then the body was found in the midst of combustiblefurniture that was not touched. It seems to me that even thespontaneous-combustion theory has considerable support in spite of thisvery interesting circumstantial evidence about blood-spots. Next to myown theory, the combustion theory seems most in harmony with the facts. "

"If you will go over in your mind all the points proved to have beendiscovered--not the added points in the Record story--I think youwill agree with me that mine is a more logical interpretation thanspontaneous combustion, " reasoned Craig. "Hear me out and you will seethat the facts are more in harmony with my less fanciful explanation. No, someone struck Lewis Langley down either in passion or in coldblood, and then, seeing what he had done, made a desperate effort todestroy the evidence of violence. Consider my next discovery. "

Kennedy placed the five glasses which I had carefully sealed andlabelled on the table before us. 

"The next step, " he said, "was to find out whether any articles ofclothing in the house showed marks that might be suspected of beingblood-spots. And here I must beg the pardon of all in the room forintruding in their private wardrobes. But in this crisis it wasabsolutely necessary, and under such circumstances I never let ceremonystand before justice. 

"In these five glasses on the table I have the washings of spots fromthe clothing worn by Tom, Mr. James Langley, Junior, Harrington Brown, and Doctor Putnam. I am not going to tell you which is which--indeed Imerely have them marked, and I do not know them myself. But Mr. Jamesonhas the marks with the names opposite on a piece of paper in his pocket. I am simply going to proceed with the tests to see if any of the stainson the coats were of blood. "

Just then Doctor Putnam interposed. "One question, Professor Kennedy. It is a comparatively easy thing to recognise a blood-stain, but it isdifficult, usually impossible, to tell whether the blood is that of aman or of an animal. I recall that we were all in our hunting-jacketsthat day, had been all day. Now, in the morning there had been anoperation on one of the horses at the stable, and I assisted theveterinary from town. I may have got a spot or two of blood on my coatfrom that operation. Do I understand that this test would show that?"

"No, " replied Craig, "this test would not show that. Other tests would, but not this. But if the spot of human blood were less than the size ofa pin-head, it would show--it would show if the spot contained evenso little as one twenty-thousandth of a gram of albumin. Blood from ahorse, a deer, a sheep, a pig, a dog, could be obtained, but when thetest was applied the liquid in which they were diluted would remainclear. No white precipitin, as it is called, would form. But let humanblood, ever so diluted, be added to the serum of the inoculated rabbit, and the test is absolute. "

A death-like silence seemed to pervade the room. Kennedy slowly anddeliberately began to test the contents of the glasses. Dropping intoeach, as he broke the seal, some of the serum of the rabbit, he waited amoment to see if any change occurred. 

It was thrilling. I think no one could have gone through that fifteenminutes without having it indelibly impressed on his memory. I recallthinking as Kennedy took each glass, "Which is it to be, guilt orinnocence, life or death?" Could it be possible that a man's life mighthang on such a slender thread? I knew Kennedy was too accurate andserious to deceive us. It was not only possible, it was actually a fact. 

The first glass showed no reaction. Someone had been vindicated. 

The second was neutral likewise--another person in the room had beenproved innocent. 

The third--no change. Science had released a third. 

The fourth--

Almost it seemed as if the record in my pocket burned--spontaneously--sointense was my feeling. There in the glass was that fatal, telltalewhite precipitate. 

"My God, it's the milk ring!" whispered Tom close to my ear. 

Hastily Kennedy dropped the serum into the fifth. It remained as clearas crystal. 

My hand trembled as it touched the envelope containing my record of thenames. 

"The person who wore the coat with that blood-stain on it, " declaredKennedy solemnly, "was the person who struck Lewis Langley down, whochoked him and then dragged his scarcely dead body across the floorand obliterated the marks of violence in the blazing log fire. Jameson, whose name is opposite the sign on this glass?"

I could scarcely tear the seal to look at the paper in the envelope. Atlast I unfolded it, and my eye fell on the name opposite the fatal sign. But my mouth was dry, and my tongue refused to move. It was too muchlike reading a death-sentence. With my finger on the name I faltered aninstant. 

Tom leaned over my shoulder and read it to himself. "For Heaven's sake, Jameson, " he cried, "let the ladies retire before you read the name. "

"It's not necessary, " said a thick voice. "We quarrelled over theestate. My share's mortgaged up to the limit, and Lewis refused to lendme more even until I could get Isabelle happily married. Now Lewis'sgoes to an outsider--Harrington, boy, take care of Isabelle, fortune orno fortune. Good--"

Someone seized James Langley's arm as he pressed an automatic revolverto his temple. He reeled like a drunken man and dropped the gun on thefloor with an oath. 

"Beaten again, " he muttered. "Forgot to move the ratchet from 'safety'to 'fire. '"

Like a madman he wrenched himself loose from us, sprang through thedoor, and darted upstairs. "I'll show you some combustion!" he shoutedback fiercely. 

Kennedy was after him like a flash. "The will!" he cried. 

We literally tore the door off its hinges and burst into James Langley'sroom. He was bending eagerly over the fireplace. Kennedy made a flyingleap at him. Just enough of the will was left unburned to be admitted toprobate. 

IX. The Terror In The Air

"There's something queer about these aeroplane accidents at BelmorePark, " mused Kennedy, one evening, as his eye caught a big headline inthe last edition of the Star, which I had brought uptown with me. 

"Queer?" I echoed. "Unfortunate, terrible, but hardly queer. Why, it isa common saying among the aeronauts that if they keep at it long enoughthey will all lose their lives. "

"Yes, I know that, " rejoined Kennedy; "but, Walter, have you noticedthat all these accidents have happened to Norton's new gyroscopemachines?"

"Well, what of that" I replied. "Isn't it just barely possible thatNorton is on the wrong track in applying the gyroscope to an aeroplane?I can't say I know much about either the gyroscope or the aeroplane, butfrom what I hear the fellows at the office say it would seem to me thatthe gyroscope is a pretty good thing to keep off an aeroplane, not toput on it. "

"Why?" asked Kennedy blandly. 

"Well, it seems to me, from what the experts say, that anything whichtends to keep your machine in one position is just what you don't wantin an aeroplane. What surprises them, they say, is that the thing seemsto work so well up to a certain point--that the accidents don't happensooner. Why, our man on the aviation field tells me that when thatpoor fellow Browne was killed he had all but succeeded in bringing hismachine to a dead stop in the air. In other words, he would have won theBrooks Prize for perfect motionlessness in one place. And then Herrick, the day before, was going about seventy miles an hour when he collapsed. They said it was heart failure. But to-night another expert says inthe Star--here, I'll read it: 'The real cause was carbonic-acid-gaspoisoning due to the pressure on the mouth from driving fast through theair, and the consequent inability to expel the poisoned air which hadbeen breathed. Air once breathed is practically carbonic-acid-gas. Whenone is passing rapidly through the air this carbonic-acid-gas is pushedback into the lungs, and only a little can get away because of the rushof air pressure into the mouth. So it is rebreathed, and the result isgradual carbonic-acid-gas poisoning, which produces a kind of narcoticsleep. '"

"Then it wasn't the gyroscope in that case?" said Kennedy with a risinginflection. 

"No, " I admitted reluctantly, "perhaps not. "

I could see that I had been rash in talking so long. Kennedy had onlybeen sounding me to see what the newspapers thought of it. His nextremark was characteristic. 

"Norton has asked me to look into the thing, " he said quietly. "If hisinvention is a failure, he is a ruined man. All his money is in it, he is suing a man for infringing on his patent, and he is liablefor damages to the heirs, according to his agreement with Browne andHerrick. I have known Norton some time; in fact, he worked out his ideasat the university physical laboratory. I have flown in his machine, andit is the most marvellous biplane I ever saw. Walter, I want you to geta Belmore Park assignment from the Star and go out to the aviation meetwith me to-morrow. I'll take you on the field, around the machines--youcan get enough local colour to do a dozen Star specials later on. I mayadd that devising a flying-machine capable of remaining stationary inthe air means a revolution that will relegate all other machines to thescrap-heap. From a military point of view it is the one thing necessaryto make the aeroplane the superior in every respect to the dirigible. "

The regular contests did not begin until the afternoon, but Kennedyand I decided to make a day of it, and early the next morning we werespeeding out to the park where the flights were being held. 

We found Charles Norton, the inventor, anxiously at work with hismechanicians in the big temporary shed that had been accorded him, andwas dignified with the name of hangar. 

"I knew you would come, Professor, " he exclaimed, running forward tomeet us. 

"Of course, " echoed Kennedy. "I'm too much interested in this inventionof yours not to help you, Norton. You know what I've always thought ofit--I've told you often that it is the most important advance since theoriginal discovery by the Wrights that the aeroplane could be balancedby warping the planes. "

"I'm just fixing up my third machine, " said Norton. "If anythinghappens to it, I shall lose the prize, at least as far as this meet isconcerned, for I don't believe I shall get my fourth and newest modelfrom the makers in time. Anyhow, if I did I couldn't pay for it--I amruined, if I don't win that twenty-five-thousand-dollar Brooks Prize. And, besides, a couple of army men are coming to inspect my aeroplaneand report to the War Department on it. I'd have stood a good chanceof selling it, I think, if my flights here had been like the trials yousaw. But, Kennedy, " he added, and his face was drawn and tragic, "I'ddrop the whole thing if I didn't know I was right. Two men dead--thinkof it. Why, even the newspapers are beginning to call me a cold, heartless, scientific crank, to keep on. But I'll show them--thisafternoon I'm going to fly myself. I'm not afraid to go anywhere I sendmy men. I'll die before I'll admit I'm beaten. "

It was easy to see why Kennedy was fascinated by a man of Norton'stype. Anyone would have been. It was not foolhardiness. It was doggeddetermination, faith in himself and in his own ability to triumph overevery obstacle. 

We now slowly entered the shed where two men were working over Norton'sbiplane. One of the men was a Frenchman, Jaurette, who had worked withFarman, a silent, dark-browed, weatherbeaten fellow with a sort ofsullen politeness. The other man was an American, Roy Sinclair, a tall, lithe, wiry chap with a seamed and furrowed face and a loose-jointedbut very deft manner which marked him a born bird-man. Norton's thirdaviator, Humphreys, who was not to fly that day, much to his relief, wasreading a paper in the back of the shed. 

We were introduced to him, and be seemed to be a very companionable sortof fellow, though not given to talking. 

"Mr. Norton, " he said, after the introduction, "there's quite an accountof your injunction against Delanne in this paper. It doesn't seem to bevery friendly, " he added, indicating the article. 

Norton read it and frowned. "Humph! I'll show them yet that myapplication of the gyroscope is patentable. Delanne will put me into'interference' in the patent office, as the lawyers call it, will he?Well, I filed a 'caveat' over a year and a half ago. If I'm wrong, he'swrong, and all gyroscope patents are wrong, and if I'm right, by George, I'm first in the field. That's so, isn't it?" he appealed to Kennedy. 

Kennedy shrugged his shoulders non-committally, as if he had neverheard of the patent office or the gyroscope in his life. The men werelistening, whether or not from loyalty I could not tell. 

"Let us see your gyroplane, I mean aeroscope--whatever it is you callit, " asked Kennedy. 

Norton took the cue. "Now you newspaper men are the first that I'veallowed in here, " he said. "Can I trust your word of honour not topublish a line except such as I O. K. After you write it?"

We promised. 

As Norton directed, the mechanicians wheeled the aeroplane out on thefield in front of the shed. No one was about. 

"Now this is the gyroscope, " began Norton, pointing out a thing encasedin an aluminum sheath, which weighed, all told, perhaps fourteen orfifteen pounds. "You see, the gyroscope is really a flywheel mountedon gimbals and can turn on any of its angles so that it can assume anyangle in space. When it's at rest like this you can turn it easily. Butwhen set revolving it tends to persist always in the plane in which itwas started rotating. "

I took hold of it, and it did turn readily in any direction. I couldfeel the heavy little flywheel inside. 

"There is a pretty high vacuum in that aluminum case, " went on Norton. "There's very little friction on that account. The power to rotate theflywheel is obtained from this little dynamo here, run by the gas-enginewhich also turns the propellers of the aeroplane. "

"But suppose the engine stops, how about the gyroscope?" I askedsceptically. 

"It will go right on for several minutes. You know, the Brennan monorailcar will stand up some time after the power is shut off. And I carry asmall storage-battery that will run it for some time, too. That's allbeen guarded against. "

Jaurette cranked the engine, a seven-cylindered affair, with thecylinders sticking out like the spokes of a wheel without a rim. Thepropellers turned so fast that I could not see the blades--turnedwith that strong, steady, fierce droning buzz that can be heard a longdistance and which is a thrilling sound to hear. Norton reached over andattached the little dynamo, at the same time setting the gyroscope atits proper angle and starting it. 

"This is the mechanical brain of my new flier, " he remarked, patting thealuminum case lovingly. "You can look in through this little window inthe case and see the flywheel inside revolving--ten thousand revolutionsa minute. Press down on the gyroscope, " he shouted to me. 

As I placed both hands on the case of the apparently frail littleinstrument, he added, "You remember how easily you moved it just amoment ago. "

I pressed down with all my might. Then I literally raised myself offmy feet, and my whole weight was on the gyroscope. That uncanny littleinstrument seemed to resent--yes, that's the word, resent--my touch. It was almost human in the resentment, too. Far from yielding to me, itactually rose on the side I was pressing down!

The men who were watching me laughed at the puzzled look on my face. 

I took my hands off, and the gyroscope leisurely and nonchalantly wentback to its original position. 

"That's the property we use, applied to the rudder and theailerons--those flat planes between the large main planes. That givesautomatic stability to the machine, " continued Norton. "I'm not goingto explain how it is done--it is in the combination of the various partsthat I have discovered the basic principle, and I'm not going to talkabout it till the thing is settled by the courts. But it is there, andthe court will see it, and I'll prove that Delanne is a fraud--a fraudwhen he says that my combination isn't patentable and isn't practicableeven at that. The truth is that his device as it stands isn'tpracticable, and, besides, if he makes it so it infringes on mine. Wouldyou like to take a flight with me?"

I looked at Kennedy, and a vision of the wreckage of the two previousaccidents, as the Star photographer had snapped them, flashed across mymind. But Kennedy was too quick for me. 

"Yes, " he answered. "A short flight. No stunts. "

We took our seats by Norton, I, at least, with some misgiving. Gentlythe machine rose into the air. The sensation was delightful. The freshair of the morning came with a stinging rush to my face. Below I couldsee the earth sweeping past as if it were a moving-picture film. Abovethe continuous roar of the engine and propeller Norton indicatedto Kennedy the automatic balancing of the gyroscope as it bent theailerons. 

"Could you fly in this machine without the gyroscope at all?" yelledKennedy. The noise was deafening, conversation almost impossible. Thoughsitting side by side he had to repeat his remark twice to Norton. 

"Yes, " called back Norton. Reaching back of him, he pointed out the wayto detach the gyroscope and put a sort of brake on it that stopped itsrevolutions almost instantly. "It's a ticklish job to change in theair, " he shouted. "It can be done, but it's safer to land and do it. "

The flight was soon over, and we stood admiring the machine while Nortonexpatiated on the compactness of his little dynamo. 

"What have you done with the wrecks of the other machines?" inquiredKennedy at length. 

"They are stored in a shed down near the railroad station. They are justa mass of junk, though there are some parts that I can use, so I'll shipthem back to the factory. "

"Might I have a look at them?"

"Surely. I'll give you the key. Sorry I can't go myself, but I want tobe sure everything is all right for my flight this afternoon. "

It was a long walk over to the shed near the station, and, togetherwith our examination of the wrecked machines, it took us the rest of themorning. Craig carefully turned over the wreckage. It seemed a hopelessquest to me, but I fancied that to him it merely presented new problemsfor his deductive and scientific mind. 

"These gyroscopes are out of business for good, " he remarked as heglanced at the dented and battered aluminum cases. "But there doesn'tseem to be anything wrong with them except what would naturally happenin such accidents. "

For my part I felt a sort of awe at the mass of wreckage in which Browneand Herrick had been killed. It was to me more than a tangled mass ofwires and splinters. Two human lives had been snuffed out in it. 

"The engines are a mass of scrap; see how the cylinders are bent andtwisted, " remarked Kennedy with great interest. "The gasoline-tank isintact, but dented out of shape. No explosion there. And look at thisdynamo. Why, the wires in it are actually fused together. The insulationhas been completely burned off. I wonder what could have caused that?"

Kennedy continued to regard the tangled mass thoughtfully for some time, then locked the door, and we strolled back to the grand stand on ourside of the field. Already the crowd had begun to collect. Across thefield we could see the various machines in front of their hangars withthe men working on them. The buzz of the engines was wafted across bythe light summer breeze as if a thousand cicadas had broken loose topredict warm weather. 

Two machines were already in flight, a little yellow Demoiselle, scurrying around close to the earth like a frightened hen, and aBleriot, high overhead, making slow and graceful turns like a huge bird. 

Kennedy and I stopped before the little wireless telegraph station ofthe signal corps in front of the grand stand and watched the operatorworking over his instruments. 

"There it is again, " muttered the operator angrily. 

"What's the matter?" asked Kennedy. "Amateurs interfering with you?"

The man nodded a reply, shaking his head with the telephone-likereceiver, viciously. He continued to adjust his apparatus. 

"Confound it!" he exclaimed. "Yes, that fellow has been jamming me forthe past two days off and on, every time I get ready to send or receivea message. Williams is going up with a Wright machine equipped withwireless apparatus in a minute, and this fellow won't get out of theway. By Jove, though, those are powerful impulses of his. Hear thatcrackling? I've never been interfered with so in my experience. Touchthat screen door with your knife. "

Kennedy did so, and elicited large sparks with quite a tingle of ashock. 

"Yesterday and the day before it was so bad we had to give up attemptingto communicate with Williams, " continued the operator. "It was worsethan trying to work in a thunder-shower. That's the time we get ourtroubles, when the air is overcharged with electricity, as it is now. "

"That's interesting, " remarked Kennedy. 

"Interesting?" flashed back the operator, angrily noting the conditionin his "log book. "

"Maybe it is, but I call it darned mean. It's almost like trying to workin a power station. "

"Indeed?" queried Kennedy. "I beg your pardon--I was only looking at itfrom the purely scientific point of view. Who is it, do you suppose?"

"How do I know? Some amateur, I guess. No professional would butt inthis way. "

Kennedy took a leaf out of his note-book and wrote a short message whichhe gave to a boy to deliver to Norton. 

"Detach your gyroscope and dynamo, " it read. "Leave them in the hangar. Fly without them this afternoon, and see what happens. No use to try forthe prize to-day. Kennedy. "

We sauntered out on the open part of the field, back of the fence and tothe side of the stands, and watched the fliers for a few moments. Threewere in the air now, and I could see Norton and his men getting ready. 

The boy with the message was going rapidly across the field. Kennedy wasimpatiently watching him. It was too far off to see just what they weredoing, but as Norton seemed to get down out of his seat in the aeroplanewhen the boy arrived, and it was wheeled back into the shed, I gatheredthat he was detaching the gyroscope and was going to make the flightwithout it, as Kennedy had requested. 

In a few minutes it was again wheeled out. 

The crowd, which had been waiting especially to see Norton, applauded. 

"Come, Walter, " exclaimed Kennedy, "let's go up there on the roof of thestand where we can see better. There's a platform and railing, I see. "

His pass allowed him to go anywhere on the field, so in a few moments wewere up on the roof. 

It was a fascinating vantage-point, and I was so deeply engrossedbetween watching the crowd below, the bird-men in the air, and themachines waiting across the field that I totally neglected to noticewhat Kennedy was doing. When I did, I saw that he had deliberatelyturned his back on the aviation field, and was anxiously, scanning thecountry back of us. 

"What are you looking for?" I asked. "Turn around. I think Norton isjust about to fly. "

"Watch him then, " answered Craig. "Tell me when he gets in the air. "

Just then Norton's aeroplane rose gently from the field. A wild shoutof applause came from the people below us, at the heroism of the man whodared to fly this new and apparently fated machine. It was succeeded bya breathless, deathly calm, as if after the first burst of enthusiasmthe crowd had suddenly realised the danger of the intrepid aviator. Would Norton add a third to the fatalities of the meet?

Suddenly Kennedy jerked my arm. "Walter, look over there across the roadback of us--at the old weatherbeaten barn. I mean the one next to thatyellow house. What do you see?"

"Nothing, except that on the peak of the roof there is a pole that lookslike the short stub of a small wireless mast. I should say there was aboy connected with that barn, a boy who has read a book on wireless forbeginners. "

"Maybe, " said Kennedy. "But is that all you see? Look up in the littlewindow of the gable, the one with the closed shutter. "

I looked carefully. "It seems to me that I saw a gleam of somethingbright at the top of the shutter, Craig, " I ventured. "A spark or aflash. "

"It must be a bright spark, for the sun is shining brightly, " musedCraig. 

"Oh, maybe it's the small boy with a looking-glass. I can remember whenI used to get behind such a window and shine a glass into the darkenedroom of my neighbours across the street. "

I had really said that half in raillery, for I was at a loss to accountin any other way for the light, but I was surprised to see how eagerlyCraig accepted it. 

"Perhaps you are right, in a way, " he assented. "I guess it isn't aspark, after all. Yes, it must be the reflection of the sun on a pieceof glass--the angles are just about right for it. Anyhow it caught myeye. Still, I believe that barn will bear watching. "

Whatever his suspicions, Craig kept them to himself, and descended. At the same time Norton gently dropped back to earth in front of hishangar, not ten feet from the spot where he started. The applause wasdeafening, as the machine was again wheeled into the shed safely. 

Kennedy and I pushed through the crowd to the wireless operator. 

"How's she working?" inquired Craig. 

"Rotten, " replied the operator sullenly. "It was worse than ever aboutfive minutes ago. It's much better now, almost normal again. "

Just then the messenger-boy, who had been hunting through the crowd forus, handed Kennedy a note. It was merely a scrawl from Norton:

 "Everything seems fine. Am going to try her next with the gyroscope. NORTON. "

"Boy, " exclaimed Craig, "has Cdr. Norton a telephone?"

"No, sir, only that hangar at the end has a telephone. "

"Well, you run across that field as fast as your legs can carry you andtell him if he values his life not to do it. "

"Not to do what, sir?"

"Don't stand there, youngster. Run! Tell him not to fly with thatgyroscope. There's a five-spot in it if you get over there before hestarts. "

Even as he spoke the Norton aeroplane was wheeled out again. In a minuteNorton had climbed up into his seat and was testing the levers. 

Would the boy reach him in time? He was half across the field, wavinghis arms like mad. But apparently Norton and his men were too engrossedin their machine to pay attention. 

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Craig. "He's going to try it. Run, boy, run!"he cried, although the boy was now far out of hearing. 

Across the field we could hear now the quick staccato chug-chug of theengine. Slowly Norton's aeroplane, this time really equipped withthe gyroscope, rose from the field and circled over toward us. Craigfrantically signalled to him to come down, but of course Norton couldnot have seen him in the crowd. As for the crowd, they looked askance atKennedy, as if he had taken leave of his senses. 

I heard the wireless operator cursing the way his receiver was acting. 

Higher and higher Norton went in one spiral after another, those spiralswhich his gyroscope had already made famous. 

The man with the megaphone in front of the judge's stand announced inhollow tones that Mr. Norton had given notice that he would try for theBrooks Prize for stationary equilibrium. 

Kennedy and I stood speechless, helpless, appalled. 

Slower and slower went the aeroplane. It seemed to hover just like thebig mechanical bird that it was. 

Kennedy was anxiously watching the judges with one eye and Norton withthe other. A few in the crowd could no longer restrain their applause. Iremember that the wireless back of us was spluttering and crackling likemad. 

All of a sudden a groan swept over the crowd. Something was wrong withNorton. His aeroplane was swooping downward at a terrific rate. Would hebe able to control it? I held my breath and gripped Kennedy by the arm. Down, down came Norton, frantically fighting by main strength, it seemedto me, to warp the planes so that their surface might catch the air andcheck his descent. 

"He's trying to detach the gyroscope, " whispered Craig hoarsely. 

The football helmet which Norton wore blew off and fell more rapidlythan the plane. I shut my eyes. But Kennedy's next exclamation caused mequickly to open them again. 

"He'll make it, after all!"

Somehow Norton had regained partial control of his machine, but it wasstill swooping down at a tremendous pace toward the level centre of thefield. 

There was a crash as it struck the ground in a cloud of dust. 

With a leap Kennedy had cleared the fence and was running toward Norton. Two men from the judge's stand were ahead of us, but except for themwe were the first to reach him. The men were tearing frantically atthe tangled framework, trying to lift it off Norton, who lay pale andmotionless, pinned under it. The machine was not so badly damaged, afterall, but that together we could lift it bodily off him. 

A doctor ran out from the crowd and hastily put his ear to Norton'schest. No one spoke, but we all scanned the doctor's face anxiously. 

"Just stunned--he'll be all right in a moment. Get some water, " he said. 

Kennedy pulled my arm. "Look at the gyroscope dynamo, " he whispered. 

I looked. Like the other two which we had seen, it also was a wreck. Theinsulation was burned off the wires, the wires were fused together, andthe storage-battery looked as if it had been burned out. 

A flicker of the eyelid and Norton seemed to regain some degree ofconsciousness. He was living over again the ages that had passed duringthe seconds of his terrible fall. 

"Will they never stop? Oh, those sparks, those sparks! I can'tdisconnect it. Sparks, more sparks--will they never--" So he rambled on. It was fearsome to hear him. 

But Kennedy was now sure that Norton was safe and in good hands, and hehurried back in the direction of the grand stand. I followed. Flyingwas over for that day, and the people were filing slowly out toward therailroad station where the special trains were waiting. We stopped atthe wireless station for a moment. 

"Is it true that Norton will recover?" inquired the operator. 

"Yes. He was only stunned, thank Heaven! Did you keep a record of theantics of your receiver since I saw you last?"

"Yes, sir. And I made a copy for you. By the way, it's working all rightnow when I don't want it. If Williams was only in the air now I'd giveyou a good demonstration of communicating with an aeroplane, " continuedthe operator as he prepared to leave. 

Kennedy thanked him for the record and carefully folded it. Joining thecrowd, we pushed our way out, but instead of going down to the stationwith them, Kennedy turned toward the barn and the yellow house. 

For some time we waited about casually, but nothing occurred. At lengthKennedy walked up to the shed. The door was closed and double padlocked. He knocked, but there was no answer. 

Just then a man appeared on the porch of the yellow house. Seeing us, hebeckoned. As we approached he shouted, "He's gone for the day!"

"Has he a city address--any place I could reach him to-night?" askedCraig. 

"I don't know. He hired the barn from me for two weeks and paid inadvance. He told me if I wanted to address him the best way was 'Dr. K. Lamar, General Delivery, New York City. '"

"Ah, then I suppose I had better write to him, " said Kennedy, apparentlymuch gratified to learn the name. "I presume he'll be taking away hisapparatus soon?"

"Can't say. There's enough of it. Cy Smith--he's in the electric lightcompany up to the village--says the doctor has used a powerful lot ofcurrent. He's good pay, though he's awful closemouthed. Flying's overfor to-day, ain't it? Was that feller much hurt?"

"No, he'll be all right to-morrow. I think he'll fly again. Themachine's in pretty good condition. He's bound to win that prize. Good-bye. "

As he walked away I remarked, "How do you know Norton will fly again?"

"I don't, " answered Kennedy, "but I think that either he or Humphreyswill. I wanted to see that this Lamar believes it anyhow. By the way, Walter, do you think you could grab a wire here and 'phone in a storyto the Star that Norton isn't much hurt and will probably be able to flyto-morrow? Try to get the City News Association, too, so that allthe papers will have it. I don't care about risking the generaldelivery--perhaps Lamar won't call for any mail, but he certainly willread the papers. Put it in the form of an interview with Norton--I'llsee that it is all right and that there is no come-back. Norton willstand for it when I tell him my scheme. "

I caught the Star just in time for the last edition, and some of theother papers that had later editions also had the story. Of course allthe morning papers had it. 

Norton spent the night in the Mineola Hospital. He didn't really need tostay, but the doctor said it would be best in case some internal injuryhad been overlooked. Meanwhile Kennedy took charge of the hangar wherethe injured machine was. The men had been in a sort of panic;Humphrey could not be found, and the only reason, I think, why the twomechanicians stayed was because something was due them on their pay. 

Kennedy wrote them out personal checks for their respective amounts, but dated them two days ahead to insure their staying. He threw off alldisguise now and with authority from Norton directed the repairing ofthe machine. Fortunately it was in pretty good condition. The brokenpart was the skids, not the essential parts of the machine. As for thegyroscope, there were plenty of them and another dynamo, and it was avery simple thing to replace the old one that had been destroyed. 

Sinclair worked with a will, far past his regular hours. Jaurette alsoworked, though one could hardly say with a will. In fact, most of thework was done by Sinclair and Kennedy, with Jaurette sullenly grumbling, mostly in French under his breath. I did not like the fellow and wassuspicious of him. I thought I noticed that Kennedy did not allow himto do much of the work, either, though that may have been for the reasonthat Kennedy never asked anyone to help him who seemed unwilling. 

"There, " exclaimed Craig about ten o'clock. "If we want to get back tothe city in any kind of time to-night we had better quit. Sinclair, Ithink you can finish repairing these skids in the morning. "

We locked up the hangar and hurried across to the station. It was latewhen we arrived in New York, but Kennedy insisted on posting off up tohis laboratory, leaving me to run down to the Star office to make surethat our story was all right for the morning papers. 

I did not see him until morning, when a large touring-car drove up. Kennedy routed me out of bed. In the tonneau of the car was a hugepackage carefully wrapped up. 

"Something I worked on for a couple of hours last night, " explainedCraig, patting it. "If this doesn't solve the problem then I'll give itup. "

I was burning with curiosity, but somehow, by a perverse association ofideas, I merely reproached Kennedy for not taking enough rest. 

"Oh, " he smiled. "If I hadn't been working last night, Walter, Icouldn't have rested at all for thinking about it. "

When we arrived at the field Norton was already there with his headbandaged. I thought him a little pale, but otherwise all right. Jaurettewas sulking, but Sinclair had finished the repairs and was busilyengaged in going over every bolt and wire. Humphreys had sent word thathe had another offer and had not shown up. 

"We must find him, " exclaimed Kennedy. "I want him to make a flightto-day. His contract calls for it. "

"I can do it, Kennedy, " asserted Norton. "See, I'm all right. "

He picked up two pieces of wire and held them at arm's length, bringingthem together, tip to tip, in front of him just to show us how he couldcontrol his nerves. 

"And I'll be better yet by this afternoon, " he added. "I can do thatstunt with the points of pins then. "

Kennedy shook his head gravely, but Norton insisted, and finally Kennedyagreed to give up wasting time trying to locate Humphreys. After that heand Norton had a long whispered conference in which Kennedy seemed to beunfolding a scheme. 

"I understand, " said Norton at length, "you want me to put thissheet-lead cover over the dynamo and battery first. Then you want me totake the cover off, and also to detach the gyroscope, and to fly withoutusing it. Is that it?"

"Yes, " assented Craig. "I will be on the roof of the grand stand. Thesignal will be three waves of my hat repeated till I see you get it. "

After a quick luncheon we went up to our vantage-point. On the wayKennedy had spoken to the head of the Pinkertons engaged by themanagement for the meet, and had also dropped in to see the wirelessoperator to ask him to send up a messenger if he saw the same phenomenaas he had observed the day before. 

On the roof Kennedy took from his pocket a little instrument with aneedle which trembled back and forth over a dial. It was nearing thetime for the start of the day's flying, and the aeroplanes were gettingready. Kennedy was calmly biting a cigar, casting occasional glances atthe needle as it oscillated. Suddenly, as Williams rose in the Wrightmachine, the needle swung quickly and pointed straight at the aviationfield, vibrating through a small area, back and forth. 

"The operator is getting his apparatus ready to signal to Williams, "remarked Craig. "This is an apparatus called an ondometer. It tells youthe direction and something of the magnitude of the Hertzian waves usedin wireless. "

Five or ten minutes passed. Norton was getting ready to fly. I could seethrough my field glass that he was putting something over his gyroscopeand over the dynamo, but could not quite make out what it was. Hismachine seemed to leap up in the air as if eager to redeem itself. Norton with his white-bandaged head was the hero of the hour. No soonerhad his aeroplane got up over the level of the trees than I heard aquick exclamation from Craig. 

"Look at the needle, Walter!" he cried. "As soon as Norton got into theair it shot around directly opposite to the wireless station, and now itis pointing--"

We raised our eyes in the direction which it indicated. It was preciselyin line with the weather-beaten barn. 

I gasped. What did it mean? Did it mean in some way another accident toNorton--perhaps fatal this time? Why had Kennedy allowed him to try itto-day when there was even a suspicion that some nameless terror wasabroad in the air? Quickly I turned to see if Norton was all right. Yes, there he was, circling above us in a series of wide spirals, climbingup, up. Now he seemed almost to stop, to hover motionless. He wasmotionless. His engine had been cut out, and I could see his propellerstopped. He was riding as a ship rides on the ocean. 

A boy ran up the ladder to the roof. Kennedy unfolded the note andshoved it into my hands. It was from the operator. 

"Wireless out of business again. Curse that fellow who is butting in. Amkeeping record, " was all it said. 

I shot a glance of inquiry at Kennedy, but he was paying no attentionnow to anything but Norton. He held his watch in his hand. 

"Walter, " he ejaculated as he snapped it shut, "it has now been sevenminutes and a half since he stopped his propeller. The Brooks Prizecalls for five minutes only. Norton has exceeded it fifty per cent. Heregoes. "

With his hat in his hand he waved three times and stopped. Then herepeated the process. 

At the third time the aeroplane seemed to give a start. The propellerbegan to revolve, Norton starting it on the compression successfully. Slowly he circled down again. Toward the end of the descent he stoppedthe engine and volplaned, or coasted, to the ground, landing gently infront of his hangar. 

A wild cheer rose into the air from the crowd below us. All eyeswere riveted on the activity about Norton's biplane. They were doingsomething to it. Whatever it was, it was finished in a minute and themen were standing again at a respectful distance from the propellers. Again Norton was in the air. As he rose above the field Kennedy gavea last glance at his ondometer and sprang down the ladder. I followedclosely. Back of the crowd he hurried, down the walk to the entrancenear the railroad station. The man in charge of the Pinkertons was atthe gate with two other men, apparently waiting. 

"Come on!" shouted Craig. 

We four followed him as fast as we could. He turned in at the lanerunning up to the yellow house, so as to approach the barn from therear, unobserved. 

"Quietly, now, " he cautioned. 

We were now at the door of the barn. A curious crackling, snapping noiseissued. Craig gently tried the door. It was bolted on the inside. Asmany of us as could threw ourselves like a human catapult against it. Ityielded. 

Inside I saw a sheet of flame fifteen or twenty feet long--it was averitable artificial bolt of lightning. A man with a telescope had beenpeering out of the window, but now was facing us in surprise. 

"Lamar, " shouted Kennedy, drawing a pistol, "one motion of your handand you are a dead man. Stand still where you are. You are caughtred-handed. "

The rest of us shrank back in momentary fear of the gigantic forces ofnature which seemed let loose in the room. The thought, in my mind atleast, was: Suppose this arch-fiend should turn his deadly power on us?

Kennedy saw us from the corner of his eye. "Don't be afraid, " he saidwith just a curl to his lip. "I've seen all this before. It won't hurtyou. It's a high frequency current. The man has simply appropriated theinvention of Mr. Nikola Tesla. Seize him. He won't struggle. I've gothim covered. "

Two burly Pinkertons leaped forward gingerly into the midst of theelectrical apparatus, and in less time than it takes to write it Lamarwas hustled out to the doorway, each arm pinioned back of him. 

As we stood, half dazed by the suddenness of the turn of events, Kennedyhastily explained:

"Tesla's theory is that under certain conditions the atmosphere, whichis normally a high insulator; assumes conducting properties and sobecomes capable of conveying any amount of electrical energy. I myselfhave seen electrical oscillations such as these in this room of suchintensity that while they could be circulated with impunity throughone's arms and chest they would melt wires farther along in thecircuit. Yet the person through whom such a current is passing feels noinconvenience. I have seen a loop of heavy copper wire energised by suchoscillations and a mass of metal within the loop heated to the fusingpoint, and yet into the space in which this destructive aerial turmoilwas going on I have repeatedly thrust my hand and even my head, withoutfeeling anything or experiencing any injurious after-effect. In thisform all the energy of all the dynamos of Niagara could pass throughone's body and yet produce no injury. But, diabolically directed, thisvast energy has been used by this man to melt the wires in the littledynamo that runs Norton's gyroscope. That is all. Now to the aviationfield. I have something more to show you. "

We hurried as fast as we could up the street and straight out on thefield, across toward the Norton hangar, the crowd gaping in wonderment. Kennedy waved frantically for Norton to come down, and Norton, who wasonly a few hundred feet in the air, seemed to see and understand. 

As we stood waiting before the hangar Kennedy could no longer restrainhis impatience. 

"I suspected some wireless-power trick when I found that the fieldwireless telegraph failed to work every time Norton's aeroplane was inthe air, " he said, approaching close to Lamar. "I just happened to catchsight of that peculiar wireless mast of yours. A little flash of lightfirst attracted my attention to it. I thought it was an electric spark, but you are too clever for that, Lamar. Still, you forgot a much simplerthing. It was the glint of the sun on the lens of your telescope as youwere watching Norton that betrayed you. "

Lamar said nothing. 

"I'm glad to say you had no confederate in the hangar here, " continuedCraig. "At first I suspected it. Anyhow, you succeeded pretty wellsingle handed, two lives lost and two machines wrecked. Norton flew allright yesterday when he left his gyroscope and dynamo behind, but whenhe took them along you were able to fuse the wires in the dynamo--youpretty nearly succeeded in adding his name to those of Browne andHerrick. "

The whir of Norton's machine told us he was approaching. We scattered togive him space enough to choose the spot where he would alight. As themen caught his machine to steady it, he jumped lightly to the ground. 

"Where's Kennedy?" he asked, and then, without waiting for a reply, he exclaimed: "Queerest thing I ever saw up there. The dynamo wasn'tprotected by the sheet-lead shield in this flight as in the firstto-day. I hadn't risen a hundred feet before I happened to hear thedarndest sputtering in the dynamo. Look, boys, the insulation iscompletely burned off the wires, and the wires are nearly all fusedtogether. "

"So it was in the other two wrecked machines, " added Kennedy, comingcoolly forward. "If you hadn't had everything protected by those shieldsI gave you in your first flight to-day you would have simply repeatedyour fall of yesterday--perhaps fatally. This fellow has been directingthe full strength of his wireless high-tension electricity straight atyou all the time. "

"What fellow?" demanded Norton. 

The two Pinkertons shoved Lamar forward. Norton gave a contemptuous lookat him. "Delanne, " he said, "I knew you were a crook when you triedto infringe on my patent, but I didn't think you were coward enough toresort to--to murder. "

Lamar, or rather Delanne, shrank back as if even the protection of hiscaptors was safety compared to the threatening advance of Norton towardhim. 

"Pouff!" exclaimed Norton, turning suddenly on his heel. "What a fool Iam! The law will take care of such scoundrels as you. What's the grandstand cheering for now?" he asked, looking across the field in an effortto regain his self-control. 

A boy from one of the hangars down the line spoke up from the back ofthe crowd in a shrill, piping voice. "You have been awarded the BrooksPrize, sir, " he said. 

X. The Black Hand

Kennedy and I had been dining rather late one evening at Luigi's, alittle Italian restaurant on the lower West Side. We had known the placewell in our student days, and had made a point of visiting it once amonth since, in order to keep in practice in the fine art of gracefullyhandling long shreds of spaghetti. Therefore we did not think it strangewhen the proprietor himself stopped a moment at our table to greetus. Glancing furtively around at the other diners, mostly Italians, hesuddenly leaned over and whispered to Kennedy:

"I have heard of your wonderful detective work, Professor. Could yougive a little advice in the case of a friend of mine?"

"Surely, Luigi. What is the case?" asked Craig, leaning back in hischair. 

Luigi glanced around again apprehensively and lowered his voice. "Notso loud, sir. When you pay your check, go out, walk around WashingtonSquare, and come in at the private entrance. I'll be waiting in thehall. My friend is dining privately upstairs. "

We lingered a while over our Chianti, then quietly paid the check anddeparted. 

True to his word, Luigi was waiting for us in the dark hall. With amotion that indicated silence, he led us up the stairs to the secondfloor, and quickly opened a door into what seemed to be a fair-sizedprivate dining-room. A man was pacing the floor nervously. On a tablewas some food, untouched. As the door opened I thought he started as ifin fear, and I am sure his dark face blanched, if only for an instant. Imagine our surprise at seeing Gennaro, the great tenor, with whommerely to have a speaking acquaintance was to argue oneself famous. 

"Oh, it is you, Luigi, " he exclaimed in perfect English, rich andmellow. "And who are these gentlemen?"

Luigi merely replied, "Friends, " in English also, and then dropped offinto a voluble, low-toned explanation in Italian. 

I could see, as we waited, that the same idea had flashed over Kennedy'smind as over my own. It was now three or four days since the papershad reported the strange kidnapping of Gennaro's five-year-old daughterAdelina, his only child, and the sending of a demand for ten thousanddollars ransom, signed, as usual, with the mystic Black Hand--a name toconjure with in blackmail and extortion. 

As Signor Gennaro advanced toward us, after his short talk with Luigi, almost before the introductions were over, Kennedy anticipated him bysaying: "I understand, Signor, before you ask me. I have read all aboutit in the papers. You want someone to help you catch the criminals whoare holding your little girl. "

"No, no!" exclaimed Gennaro excitedly. "Not that. I want to get mydaughter first. After that, catch them if you can--yes, I should liketo have someone do it. But read this first and tell me what you thinkof it. How should I act to get my little Adelina back without harming ahair of her head?" The famous singer drew from a capacious pocketbook adirty, crumpled, letter, scrawled on cheap paper. 

Kennedy translated it quickly. It read:

Honourable sir: Your daughter is in safe hands. But, by the saints, ifyou give this letter to the police as you did the other, not only shebut your family also, someone near to you, will suffer. We will not failas we did Wednesday. If you want your daughter back, go yourself, aloneand without telling a soul, to Enrico Albano's Saturday night at thetwelfth hour. You must provide yourself with $10, 000 in bills hidden inSaturday's Il Progresso Italiano. In the back room you will see a mansitting alone at a table. He will have a red flower on his coat. Youare to say, "A fine opera is 'I Pagliacci. '" If he answers, "Not withoutGennaro, " lay the newspaper down on the table. He will pick it up, leaving his own, the Bolletino. On the third page you will findwritten the place where your daughter has been left waiting for you. Go immediately and get her. But, by the God, if you have so much as theshadow of the police near Enrico's your daughter will be sent to you ina box that night. Do not fear to come. We pledge our word to deal fairlyif you deal fairly. This is a last warning. Lest you shall forget wewill show one other sign of our power to-morrow. La MANO NERA. 

The end of this ominous letter was gruesomely decorated with a skulland cross-bones, a rough drawing of a dagger thrust through a bleedingheart, a coffin, and, under all, a huge black hand. There was no doubtabout the type of letter that it was. It was such as have of late yearsbecome increasingly common in all our large cities, baffling the bestdetectives. 

"You have not showed this to the police, I presume?" asked Kennedy. 

"Naturally not. "

"Are you going Saturday night?"

"I am afraid to go and afraid to stay away, " was the reply, and thevoice of the fifty-thousand-dollars-a-season tenor was as human as thatof a five-dollar-a-week father, for at bottom all men, high or low, areone. 

"'We will not fail as we did Wednesday, '" reread Craig. "What does thatmean?"

Gennaro fumbled in his pocketbook again, and at last drew forth atypewritten letter bearing the letter-head of the Leslie Laboratories, Incorporated. 

"After I received the first threat, " explained Gennaro, "my wife andI went from our apartments at the hotel to her father's, the bankerCesare, you know, who lives on Fifth Avenue. I gave the letter to theItalian Squad of the police. The next morning my father-in-law's butlernoticed something peculiar about the milk. He barely touched some of itto his tongue, and he has been violently ill ever since. I at oncesent the milk to the laboratory of my friend Doctor Leslie to have itanalysed. This letter shows what the household escaped. "

"My dear Gennaro, " read Kennedy. "The milk submitted to us forexamination on the 10th inst. Has been carefully analysed, and I beg tohand you herewith the result:

 Specific gravity 1. 036 at 15 degrees Cent. 

 Water. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 84. 60 per cent Casein. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 3. 49 " " Albumin. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 56 " " Globulin. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . . 32 " " Lactose. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 5. 08 " " Ash. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 72 " " Fat. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 3. 42 " " Ricin. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 1. 19 " "

"Ricin is a new and little-known poison derived from the shell of thecastor-oil bean. Professor Ehrlich states that one gram of the purepoison will kill 1, 500, 000 guinea pigs. Ricin was lately isolated byProfessor Robert, of Rostock, but is seldom found except in an impurestate, though still very deadly. It surpasses strychnine, prussic acid, and other commonly known drugs. I congratulate you and yours on escapingand shall of course respect your wishes absolutely regarding keepingsecret this attempt on your life. Believe me, "Very sincerely yours, "C. W. LESLIE. "

As Kennedy handed the letter back, he remarked significantly: "I can seevery readily why you don't care to have the police figure in your case. It has got quite beyond ordinary police methods. "

"And to-morrow, too, they are going to give another sign of theirpower, " groaned Gennaro, sinking into the chair before his untastedfood. 

"You say you have left your hotel?" inquired Kennedy. 

"Yes. My wife insisted that we would be more safely guarded at theresidence of her father, the banker. But we are afraid even there sincethe poison attempt. So I have come here secretly to Luigi, my oldfriend Luigi, who is preparing food for us, and in a few minutes oneof Cesare's automobiles will be here, and I will take the food up toher--sparing no expense or trouble. She is heart-broken. It will killher, Professor Kennedy, if anything happens to our little Adelina. 

"Ah, sir, I am not poor myself. A month's salary at the opera-house, that is what they ask of me. Gladly would I give it, ten thousanddollars--all, if they asked it, of my contract with Herr Schleppencour, the director. But the police--bah!--they are all for catching thevillains. What good will it do me if they catch them and my littleAdelina is returned to me dead? It is all very well for the Anglo-Saxonto talk of justice and the law, but I am--what you call it?--anemotional Latin. I want my little daughter--and at any cost. Catch thevillains afterward--yes. I will pay double then to catch them so thatthey cannot blackmail me again. Only first I want my daughter back. "

"And your father-in-law?"

"My father-in-law, he has been among you long enough to be one of you. He has fought them. He has put up a sign in his banking-house, 'No moneypaid on threats. ' But I say it is foolish. I do not know America as wellas he, but I know this: the police never succeed--the ransom is paidwithout their knowledge, and they very often take the credit. I say, payfirst, then I will swear a righteous vendetta--I will bring the dogs tojustice with the money yet on them. Only show me how, show me how. "

"First of all, " replied Kennedy, "I want you to answer one question, truthfully, without reservation, as to a friend. I am your friend, believe me. Is there any person, a relative or acquaintance of yourselfor your wife or your father-in-law, whom you even have reason to suspectof being capable of extorting money from you in this way? I needn't saythat that is the experience of the district attorney's office in thelarge majority of cases of this so-called Black Hand. "

"No, " replied the tenor without hesitation: "I know that, and I havethought about it. No, I can think of no one. I know you Americans oftenspeak of the Black Hand as a myth coined originally by a newspaperwriter. Perhaps it has no organisation. But, Professor Kennedy, to meit is no myth. What if the real Black Hand is any gang of criminals whochoose to use that convenient name to extort money? Is it the less real?My daughter is gone!"

"Exactly, " agreed Kennedy. "It is not a theory that confronts you. It isa hard, cold fact. I understand that perfectly. What is the address ofthis Albano's?"

Luigi mentioned a number on Mulberry Street, and Kennedy made a note ofit. 

"It is a gambling saloon, " explained Luigi. "Albano is a Neapolitan, a Camorrista, one of my countrymen of whom I am thoroughly ashamed, Professor Kennedy. "

"Do you think this Albano had anything to do with the letter?"

Luigi shrugged his shoulders. 

Just then a big limousine was heard outside. Luigi picked up a hugehamper that was placed in a corner of the room and, followed closely bySignor Gennaro, hurried down to it. As the tenor left us he grasped ourhands in each of his. 

"I have an idea in my mind, " said Craig simply. "I will try to think itout in detail to-night. Where can I find you to-morrow?"

"Come to me at the opera-house in the afternoon, or if you want mesooner at Mr. Cesare's residence. Good night, and a thousand thanksto you, Professor Kennedy, and to you, also, Mr. Jameson. I trust youabsolutely because Luigi trusts you. "

We sat in the little dining-room until we heard the door of thelimousine bang shut and the car shoot off with the rattle of thechanging gears. 

"One more question, Luigi, " said Craig as the door opened again. "I havenever been on that block in Mulberry Street where this Albano's is. Doyou happen to know any of the shopkeepers on it or near it?"

"I have a cousin who has a drug-store on the corner below Albano's, onthe same side of the street. "

"Good! Do you think he would let me use his store for a few minutesSaturday night--of course without any risk to himself!"

"I think I could arrange it. "

"Very well. Then to-morrow, say at nine in the morning, I will stophere, and we will all go over to see him. Good night, Luigi, and many, thanks for thinking of me in connection with this case. I've enjoyedSignor Gennaro's singing often enough at the opera to want to render himthis service, and I'm only too glad to be able to be of service to allhonest Italians; that is, if I succeed in carrying out a plan I have inmind. "

A little before nine the following day Kennedy and I dropped intoLuigi's again. Kennedy was carrying a suit-case which he had taken overfrom his laboratory to our rooms the night before. Luigi was waiting forus, and without losing a minute we sallied forth. 

By means of the tortuous twists of streets in old Greenwich villagewe came out at last on Bleecker Street and began walking east amidthe hurly-burly of races of lower New York. We had not quite reachedMulberry Street when our attention was attracted by a large crowd onone of the busy corners, held back by a cordon of police who wereendeavouring to keep the people moving with that burly good naturewhich the six-foot Irish policeman displays toward the five-footburden-bearers of southern and eastern Europe who throng New York. 

Apparently, we saw, as we edged up into the front of the crowd, here wasa building whose whole front had literally been torn off and wrecked. The thick plate-glass of the windows was smashed to a mass of greenishsplinters on the sidewalk, while the windows of the upper floors andfor several houses down the block in either street were likewise broken. Some thick iron bars which had formerly protected the windows were nowbent and twisted. A huge hole yawned in the floor inside the doorway, and peering in we could see the desks and chairs a tangled mass ofkindling. 

"What's the matter?" I inquired of an officer near me, displaying myreporter's fire-line badge, more for its moral effect than in the hopeof getting any real information in these days of enforced silence towardthe press. 

"Black Hand bomb, " was the laconic reply. 

"Whew!" I whistled. "Anyone hurt?"

"They don't usually kill anyone, do they?" asked the officer by way ofreply to test my acquaintance with such things. 

"No, " I admitted. "They destroy more property than lives. But did theyget anyone this time? This must have been a thoroughly overloaded bomb, I should judge by the looks of things. "

"Came pretty close to it. The bank hadn't any more than opened when, bang! went this gaspipe-and-dynamite thing. Crowd collected before thesmoke had fairly cleared. Man who owns the bank was hurt, but not badly. Now come, beat it down to headquarters if you want to find out anymore. --You'll find it printed on the pink slips--the 'squeal book'--bythis time. 'Gainst the rules for me to talk, " he added with agood-natured grin, then to the crowd: "G'wan, now. You're blockin'traffic. Keep movin'. "

I turned to Craig and Luigi. Their eyes were riveted on the big giltsign, half broken, and all askew overhead. It read:

 CIRO DI CESARE & Co. BANKERS

 NEW YORK, GENOA, NAPLES, ROME, PALERMO

"This is the reminder so that Gennaro and his father-in-law will notforget, " I gasped. 

"Yes, " added Craig, pulling us away, "and Cesare himself is wounded, too. Perhaps that was for putting up the notice refusing to pay. Perhapsnot. It's a queer case--they usually set the bombs off at night whenno one is around. There must be more back of this than merely to scareGennaro. It looks to me as if they were after Casare, too, first bypoison, then by dynamite. "

We shouldered our way out through the crowd and went on until we came toMulberry Street, pulsing with life. Down we went past the little shops, dodging the children, and making way for women with huge bundles ofsweatshop clothing accurately balanced on their heads or hugged up undertheir capacious capes. Here was just one little colony of the hundredsof thousands of Italians--a population larger than the Italianpopulation of Rome--of whose life the rest of New York knew and carednothing. 

At last we came to Albano's little wine-shop, a dark, evil, malodorousplace on the street level of a five-story, alleged "new-law" tenement. Without hesitation Kennedy entered, and we followed, acting the part ofa slumming party. There were a few customers at this early hour, men outof employment and an inoffensive-looking lot, though of course they eyedus sharply. Albano himself proved to be a greasy, low-browed fellow whohad a sort of cunning look. I could well imagine such a fellow spreadingterror in the hearts of simple folk by merely pressing both temples withhis thumbs and drawing his long bony fore-finger under his throat--theso-called Black Hand sign that has shut up many a witness in the middleof his testimony even in open court. 

We pushed through to the low-ceilinged back room, which was empty, andsat down at a table. Over a bottle of Albano's famous California "redink" we sat silently. Kennedy was making a mental note of the place. Inthe middle of the ceiling was a single gas-burner with a big reflectorover, it. In the back wall of the room was a horizontal oblong window, barred, and with a sash that opened like a transom. The tables weredirty and the chairs rickety. The walls were bare and unfinished, withbeams innocent of decoration. Altogether it was as unprepossessing aplace as I had ever seen. 

Apparently satisfied with his scrutiny, Kennedy got up to go, complimenting the proprietor on his wine. I could see that Kennedy hadmade up his mind as to his course of action. 

"How sordid crime really is, " he remarked as we walked on down thestreet. "Look at that place of Albano's. I defy even the police newsreporter on the Star to find any glamour in that. "

Our next stop was at the corner at the little store kept by the cousinof Luigi, who conducted us back of the partition where prescriptionswere compounded, and found us chairs. 

A hurried explanation from Luigi brought a cloud to the open face of thedruggist, as if he hesitated to lay himself and his little fortune opento the blackmailers. Kennedy saw it and interrupted. 

"All that I wish to do, " he said, "is to put in a little instrument hereand use it to-night for a few minutes. Indeed, there will be no risk toyou, Vincenzo. Secrecy is what I desire, and no one will ever know aboutit. "

Vincenzo was at length convinced, and Craig opened his suit-case. Therewas little in it except several coils of insulated wire; some tools, acouple of packages wrapped up, and a couple of pairs of overalls. In amoment Kennedy had donned overalls and was smearing dirt and grease overhis face and hands. Under his direction I did the same. 

Taking the bag of tools, the wire, and one of the small packages, wewent out on the street and then up through the dark and ill-ventilatedhall of the tenement. Half-way up a woman stopped us suspiciously. 

"Telephone company, " said Craig curtly. "Here's permission from theowner of the house to string wires across the roof. "

He pulled an old letter out of his pocket, but as it was too dark toread even if the woman had cared to do so, we went on up as he hadexpected, unmolested. At last we came to the roof, where there were somechildren at play a couple of houses down from us. 

Kennedy began by dropping two strands of wire down to the ground in theback yard behind Vincenzo's shop. Then he proceeded to lay two wiresalong the edge of the roof. 

We had worked only a little while when the children began to collect. However, Kennedy kept right on until we reached the tenement next tothat in which Albano's shop was. 

"Walter, " he whispered, "just get the children away for a minute now. "

"Look here, you kids, " I yelled, "some of you will fall off if you getso close to the edge of the roof. Keep back. "

It had no effect. Apparently they looked not a bit frightened at thedizzy mass of clothes-lines below us. 

"Say, is there a candy-store on this block?" I asked in desperation. 

"Yes, sir, " came the chorus. 

"Who'll go down and get me a bottle of ginger ale?" I asked. 

A chorus of voices and glittering eyes was the answer. They all would. Itook a half-dollar from my pocket and gave it to the oldest. 

"All right now, hustle along, and divide the change. "

With the scamper of many feet they were gone, and we were alone. Kennedyhad now reached Albano's, and as soon as the last head had disappearedbelow the scuttle of the roof he dropped two long strands down into theback yard, as he had done at Vincenzo's. 

I started to go back, but he stopped me. 

"Oh, that will never do, " he said. "The kids will see that the wires endhere. I must carry them on several houses farther as a blind and trustto luck that they don't see the wires leading down below. "

We were several houses down, still putting up wires when the crowd cameshouting back, sticky with cheap trust-made candy and black with EastSide chocolate. We opened the ginger ale and forced ourselves to drinkit so as to excite no suspicion, then a few minutes later descended thestairs of the tenement, coming out just above Albano's. 

I was wondering how Kennedy was going to get into Albano's again withoutexciting suspicion. He solved it neatly. 

"Now, Walter, do you think you could stand another dip into that red inkof Albano's!"

I said I might in the interests of science and justice--not otherwise. 

"Well, your face is sufficiently dirty, " he commented, "so that with theoveralls you don't look very much as you did the first time you went in. I don't think they will recognise you. Do I look pretty good?"

"You look like a coal-heaver out of a job, " I said. "I can scarcelyrestrain my admiration. "

"All right. Then take this little glass bottle. Go into the back roomand order something cheap, in keeping with your looks. Then when you areall alone break the bottle. It is full of gas drippings. Your nosewill dictate what to do next. Just tell the proprietor you saw the gascompany's wagon on the next block and come up here and tell me. "

I entered. There was a sinister-looking man, with a sort of unscrupulousintelligence, writing at a table. As he wrote and puffed at his cigar, I noticed a scar on his face, a deep furrow running from the lobe of hisear to his mouth. That, I knew, was a brand set upon him by the Camorra. I sat and smoked and sipped slowly for several minutes, cursing himinwardly more for his presence than for his evident look of the "malavita. " At last he went out to ask the barkeeper for a stamp. 

Quickly I tiptoed over to another corner of the room and ground thelittle bottle under my heel. Then I resumed my seat. The odour thatpervaded the room was sickening. 

The sinister-looking man with the scar came in again and sniffed. Isniffed. Then the proprietor came in and sniffed. 

"Say, " I said in the toughest voice I could assume, "you got a leak. Wait. I seen the gas company wagon on the next block when I came in. I'll get the man. "

I dashed out and hurried up the street to the place where Kennedy waswaiting impatiently. Rattling his tools, he followed me with apparentreluctance. 

As he entered the wine-shop he snorted, after the manner of gas-men, "Where's de leak?"

"You find-a da leak, " grunted Albano. "What-a you get-a you pay for? Youwant-a me do your work?"

"Well, half a dozen o' you wops get out o' here, that's all. D'youseall wanter be blown ter pieces wid dem pipes and cigarettes? Clear out, "growled Kennedy. 

They retreated precipitately, and Craig hastily opened his bag of tools. 

"Quick, Walter, shut the door and hold it, " exclaimed Craig, workingrapidly. He unwrapped a little package and took out a round, flatdisc-like thing of black vulcanised rubber. Jumping up on a table, hefixed it to the top of the reflector over the gas-jet. 

"Can you see that from the floor, Walter?" he asked under his breath. 

"No, " I replied, "not even when I know it is there. "

Then he attached a couple of wires to it and led them across the ceilingtoward the window, concealing them carefully by sticking them in theshadow of a beam. At the window he quickly attached the wires to thetwo that were dangling down from the roof and shoved them around out ofsight. 

"We'll have to trust that no one sees them, " he said. "That's the best Ican do at such short notice. I never saw a room so bare as this, anyway. There isn't another place I could put that thing without its beingseen. "

We gathered up the broken glass of the gas drippings bottle, and Iopened the door. 

"It's all right, now, " said Craig, sauntering out before the bar. "Onlyde next time you has anyt'ing de matter call de company up. I ain'tsupposed to do dis wit'out orders, see?"

A moment later I followed, glad to get out of the oppressive atmosphere, and joined him in the back of Vincenzo's drug-store, where he was againat work. As there was no back window there, it was quite a job to leadthe wires around the outside from the back yard and in at a side window. It was at last done, however, without exciting suspicion, and Kennedyattached them to an oblong box of weathered oak and a pair of speciallyconstructed dry batteries. 

"Now, " said Craig, as we washed off the stains of work and stowed theoveralls back in the suitcase, "that is done to my satisfaction. I cantell Gennaro to go ahead safely now and meet the Black-Handers. "

From Vincenzo's we walked over toward Centre Street, where Kennedy andI left Luigi to return to his restaurant, with instructions to be atVincenzo's at half-past eleven that night. 

We turned into the new police headquarters and went down the longcorridor to the Italian Bureau. Kennedy sent in his card to LieutenantGiuseppe in charge, and we were quickly admitted. The lieutenant was ashort, fullfaced, fleshy Italian, with lightish hair and eyes that wereapparently dull, until you suddenly discovered that that was merely acover to their really restless way of taking in everything and fixingthe impressions on his mind, as if on a sensitive plate. 

"I want to talk about the Gennaro case, " began Craig. "I may add thatI have been rather closely associated with Inspector O'Connor of theCentral Office on a number of cases, so that I think we can trust eachother. Would you mind telling me what you know about it if I promise youthat I, too, have something to reveal?"

The lieutenant leaned back and watched Kennedy closely without seemingto do so. "When I was in Italy last year, " he replied at length, "I dida good deal of work in tracing up some Camorra suspects. I had a tipabout some of them to look up their records--I needn't say where it camefrom, but it was a good one. Much of the evidence against some of thosefellows who are being tried at Viterbo was gathered by the Carabinierias a result of hints that I was able to give them--clues that werefurnished to me here in America from the source I speak of. I supposethere is really no need to conceal it, though. The original tip camefrom a certain banker here in New York. "

"I can guess who it was, " nodded Craig. 

"Then, as you know, this banker is a fighter. He is the man whoorganised the White Hand--an organisation which is trying to rid theItalian population of the Black Hand. His society had a lot of evidenceregarding former members of both the Camorra in Naples and the Mafia inSicily, as well as the Black Hand gangs in New York, Chicago, and othercities. Well, Cesare, as you know, is Gennaro's father-in-law. 

"While I was in Naples looking up the record of a certain criminal Iheard of a peculiar murder committed some years ago. There was an honestold music master who apparently lived the quietest and most harmlessof lives. But it became known that he was supported by Cesare and hadreceived handsome presents of money from him. The old man was, asyou may have guessed, the first music teacher of Gennaro, the man whodiscovered him. One might have been at a loss to see how he could havean enemy, but there was one who coveted his small fortune. One day hewas stabbed and robbed. His murderer ran out into the street, cryingout that the poor man had been killed. Naturally a crowd rushed up ina moment, for it was in the middle of the day. Before the injured mancould make it understood who had struck him the assassin was down thestreet and lost in the maze of old Naples where he well knew thehouses of his friends who would hide him. The man who is known to havecommitted that crime--Francesco Paoli--escaped to New York. We arelooking for him to-day. He is a clever man, far above the average--sonof a doctor in a town a few miles from Naples, went to the university, was expelled for some mad prank--in short, he was the black sheep of thefamily. Of course over here he is too high-born to work with hishands on a railroad or in a trench, and not educated enough to workat anything else. So he has been preying on his more industriouscountrymen--a typical case of a man living by his wits with no visiblemeans of support. 

"Now I don't mind telling you in strict confidence, " continued thelieutenant, "that it's my theory that old Cesare has seen Paoli here, knew he was wanted for that murder of the old music master, and gave methe tip to look up his record. At any rate Paoli disappeared right afterI returned from Italy, and we haven't been able to locate him since. He must have found out in some way that the tip to look him up had beengiven by the White Hand. He had been a Camorrista, in Italy, and hadmany ways of getting information here in America. "

He paused, and balanced a piece of cardboard in his hand. 

"It is my theory of this case that if we could locate this Paoli wecould solve the kidnapping of little Adelina Gennaro very quickly. That's his picture. "

Kennedy and I bent over to look at it, and I started in surprise. It wasmy evil-looking friend with the scar on his cheek. 

"Well, " said Craig, quietly handing back the card, "whether or not he isthe man, I know where we can catch the kidnappers to-night, Lieutenant. "

It was Giuseppe's turn to show surprise now. 

"With your assistance I'll get this man and the whole gang to-night, "explained Craig, rapidly sketching over his plan and concealing justenough to make sure that no matter how anxious the lieutenant was to getthe credit he could not spoil the affair by premature interference. 

The final arrangement was that four of the best men of the squad were tohide in a vacant store across from Vincenzo's early in the evening, longbefore anyone was watching. The signal for them to appear was to bethe extinguishing of the lights behind the coloured bottles in thedruggist's window. A taxicab was to be kept waiting at headquartersat the same time with three other good men ready to start for a givenaddress the moment the alarm was given over the telephone. 

We found Gennaro awaiting us with the greatest anxiety at theopera-house. The bomb at Cesare's had been the last straw. Gennaro hadalready drawn from his bank ten crisp one-thousand-dollar bills, andalready had a copy of Il Progresso in which he had hidden the moneybetween the sheets. 

"Mr. Kennedy, " he said, "I am going to meet them to-night. They may killme. See, I have provided myself with a pistol--I shall fight, too, ifnecessary for my little Adelina. But if it is only money they want, theyshall have it. "

"One thing I want to say, " began Kennedy. 

"No, no, no!" cried the tenor. "I will go--you shall not stop me. "

"I don't wish to stop you, " Craig reassured him. "But one thing--doexactly as I tell you, and I swear not a hair of the child's head willbe injured and we will get the blackmailers, too. "

"How?" eagerly asked Gennaro. "What do you want me to do?"

"All I want you to do is to go to Albano's at the appointed time. Sitdown in the back room. Get into conversation with them, and, above all, Signor, as soon as you get the copy of the Bolletino turn to the thirdpage, pretend not to be able to read the address. Ask the man to readit. Then repeat it after him. Pretend to be overjoyed. Offer to set upwine for the whole crowd. Just a few minutes, that is all I ask, and Iwill guarantee that you will be the happiest man in New York to-morrow. "

Gennaro's eyes filled with tears as he grasped Kennedy's hand. "That isbetter than having the whole police force back of me, " he said. "I shallnever forget, never forget. "

As we went out Kennedy remarked: "You can't blame them for keeping theirtroubles to themselves. Here we send a police officer over to Italy tolook up the records of some of the worst suspects. He loses his life. Another takes his place. Then after he gets back he is set to work onthe mere clerical routine of translating them. One of his associates isreduced in rank. And so what does it come to? Hundreds of records havebecome useless because the three years within which the criminals couldbe deported have elapsed with nothing done. Intelligent, isn't it?I believe it has been established that all but about fifty of sevenhundred known Italian suspects are still at large, mostly in this city. And the rest of the Italian population is guarded from them by a squadof police in number scarcely one-thirtieth of the number of knowncriminals. No, it's our fault if the Black Hand thrives. "

We had been standing on the corner of Broadway, waiting for a car. 

"Now, Walter, don't forget. Meet me at the Bleecker Street station ofthe subway at eleven-thirty. I'm off to the university. I have some veryimportant experiments with phosphorescent salts that I want to finishto-day. "

"What has that to do with the case?" I asked, mystified. 

"Nothing, " replied Craig. "I didn't say it had. At eleven-thirty, don'tforget. By George, though, that Paoli must be a clever one--think of hisknowing about ricin. I only heard of it myself recently. Well, here's mycar. Good-bye. "

Craig swung aboard an Amsterdam Avenue car, leaving me to kill eightnervous hours of my weekly day of rest from the Star. 

They passed at length, and at precisely the appointed time Kennedy and Imet. With suppressed excitement, at least on my part, we walked over toVincenzo's. At night this section of the city was indeed a black enigma. The lights in the shops where olive oil, fruit, and other things weresold, were winking out one by one; here and there strains of musicfloated out of wine-shops, and little groups lingered on cornersconversing in animated sentences. We passed Albano's on the other sideof the street, being careful not to look at it too closely, for severalmen were hanging idly about--pickets, apparently, with some secret codethat would instantly have spread far and wide the news of any alarmingaction. 

At the corner we crossed and looked in Vincenzo's window a moment, casting a furtive glance across the street at the dark empty store wherethe police must be hiding. Then we went in and casually sauntered backof the partition. Luigi was there already. There were several customersstill in the store, however, and therefore we had to sit in silencewhile Vincenzo quickly finished a prescription and waited on the lastone. 

At last the doors were locked and the lights lowered, all except thosein the windows which were to serve as signals. 

"Ten minutes to twelve, " said Kennedy, placing the oblong box on thetable. "Gennaro will be going in soon. Let us try this machine now andsee if it works. If the wires have been cut since we put them up thismorning Gennaro will have to take his chances alone. "

Kennedy reached over and with a light movement of his forefinger toucheda switch. 

Instantly a babel of voices filled the store, all talking at once, rapidly and loudly. Here and there we could distinguish a snatch ofconversation, a word, a phrase, now and then even a whole sentence abovethe rest. There was the clink of glasses. I could hear the rattle ofdice on a bare table, and an oath. A cork popped. Somebody scratched amatch. 

We sat bewildered, looking at Kennedy for an explanation. 

"Imagine that you are sitting at a table in Albano's back room, " wasall he said. "This is what you would be hearing. This is my 'electricear'--in other words the dictograph, used, I am told, by the SecretService of the United States. Wait, in a moment you will hear Gennarocome in. Luigi and Vincenzo, translate what you hear. My knowledge ofItalian is pretty rusty. "

"Can they hear us?" whispered Luigi in an awe-struck whisper. 

Craig laughed. "No, not yet. But I have only to touch this other switch, and I could produce an effect in that room that would rival the famouswriting on Belshazzar's wall--only it would be a voice from the wallinstead of writing. "

"They seem to be waiting for someone, " said Vincenzo. "I heard somebodysay: 'He will be here in a few minutes. Now get out. '"

The babel of voices seemed to calm down as men withdrew from the room. Only one or two were left. 

"One of them says the child is all right. She has been left in the backyard, " translated Luigi. 

"What yard? Did he say?" asked Kennedy. 

"No; they just speak of it as the 'yard, '" replied Luigi. 

"Jameson, go outside in the store to the telephone booth and call upheadquarters. Ask them if the automobile is ready, with the men in it. "

I rang up, and after a moment the police central answered thateverything was right. 

"Then tell central to hold the line clear--we mustn't lose a moment. Jameson, you stay in the booth. Vincenzo, you pretend to be workingaround your window, but not in such a way as to attract attention, forthey have men watching the street very carefully. What is it, Luigi?"

"Gennaro is coming. I just heard one of them say, 'Here he comes. '"

Even from the booth I could hear the dictograph repeating theconversation in the dingy, little back room of Albano's, down thestreet. 

"He's ordering a bottle of red wine, " murmured Luigi, dancing up anddown with excitement. 

Vincenzo was so nervous that he knocked a bottle down in the window, and I believe that my heartbeats were almost audible over the telephonewhich I was holding, for the police operator called me down for askingso many times if all was ready. 

"There it is--the signal, " cried Craig. "'A fine opera is"I Pagliacci. "' Now listen for the answer. "

A moment elapsed, then, "Not without Gennaro, " came a gruff voice inItalian from the dictograph. 

A silence ensued. It was tense. 

"Wait, wait, " said a voice which I recognised instantly as Gennaro's. "Icannot read this. What is this, 23 Prince Street?"

"No. 33. She has been left in the backyard, " answered the voice. 

"Jameson, " called Craig, "tell them to drive straight to 33 PrinceStreet. They will find the girl in the back yard--quick, before theBlack-Handers have a chance to go back on their word. "

I fairly shouted my orders to the police headquarters. "They're off, "came back the answer, and I hung up the receiver. 

"What was that?" Craig was asking of Luigi. "I didn't catch it. What didthey say?"

"That other voice said to Gennaro, 'Sit down while I count this. '"

"Sh! he's talking again. "

"If it is a penny less than ten thousand or I find a mark on the billsI'll call to Enrico, and your daughter will be spirited away again, "translated Luigi. 

"Now, Gennaro is talking, " said Craig. "Good--he is gaining time. He isa trump. I can distinguish that all right. He's asking the gruff voicedfellow if he will have another bottle of wine. He says he will. Good. They must be at Prince Street now we'll give them a few minutes more, not too much, for word will be back to Albano's like wildfire, and theywill get Gennaro after all. Ah, they are drinking again. What was that, Luigi? The money is all right, he says? Now, Vincenzo, out with thelights!"

A door banged open across the street, and four huge dark figures dartedout in the direction of Albano's. 

With his finger Kennedy pulled down the other switch and shouted:"Gennaro, this is Kennedy! To the street! Polizia! Polizia!"

A scuffle and a cry of surprise followed. A second voice, apparentlyfrom the bar, shouted, "Out with the lights, out with the lights!"

Bang! went a pistol, and another. 

The dictograph, which had been all sound a moment before, was as mute asa cigar-box. 

"What's the matter?" I asked Kennedy, as he rushed past me. 

"They have shot out the lights. My receiving instrument is destroyed. Come on, Jameson; Vincenzo, stay back, if you don't want to appear inthis. "

A short figure rushed by me, faster even than I could go. It was thefaithful, Luigi. 

In front of Albano's an exciting fight was going on. Shots were beingfired wildly in the darkness, and heads were popping out of tenementwindows on all sides. As Kennedy and I flung ourselves into the crowdwe caught a glimpse of Gennaro, with blood streaming from a cut on hisshoulder, struggling with a policeman while Luigi vainly was trying tointerpose himself between them. A man, held by another policeman, wasurging the first officer on. "That's the man, " he was crying. "That'sthe kidnapper. I caught him. "

In a moment Kennedy was behind him. "Paoli, you lie. You are thekidnapper. Seize him--he has the money on him. That other is Gennarohimself. "

The policeman released the tenor, and both of them seized Paoli. Theothers were beating at the door, which was being frantically barricadedinside. 

Just then a taxicab came swinging up they street. Three men jumpedout and added their strength to those who were battering down Albano'sbarricade. 

Gennaro, with a cry, leaped into the taxicab. Over his shoulder I couldsee a tangled mass of dark brown curls, and a childish voice lisped "Whydidn't you come for me, papa? The bad man told me if I waited in theyard you would come for me. But if I cried he said he would shoot me. And I waited, and waited--"

"There, there, Una; papa's going to take you straight home to mother. "

A crash followed as the door yielded, and the famous Paoli gang was inthe hands of the law. 

XI. The Artificial Paradise

It was, I recall, at that period of the late unpleasantness in thelittle Central American republic of Vespuccia, when things lookeddarkest for American investors, that I hurried home one evening toKennedy, bursting with news. 

By way of explanation, I may add that during the rubber boom Kennedy hadinvested in stock of a rubber company in Vespuccia, and that its valuehad been shrinking for some time with that elasticity which a rubberband shows when one party suddenly lets go his end. Kennedy had been indanger of being snapped rather hard by the recoil, and I knew he hadput in an order with his broker to sell and take his loss when a certainfigure was reached. My news was a first ray of light in an otherwisedark situation, and I wanted to advise him to cancel the selling orderand stick for a rise. 

Accordingly I hurried unceremoniously into our apartment with the wordson my lips before I had fairly closed the door. "What do you think, Craig" I shouted. "It is rumoured that the revolutionists have capturedhalf a million dollars from the government and are sending it to--" Istopped short. I had no idea that Kennedy had a client, and a girl, too. 

With a hastily mumbled apology I checked myself and backed out towardmy own room. I may as well confess that I did not retreat very fast, however. Kennedy's client was not only a girl, but a very pretty one, Ifound, as she turned her head quickly at my sudden entrance and betraya lively interest at the mention of the revolution. She was aLatin-American, and the Latin-American type of feminine beauty isfascinating at least to me. I did not retreat very fast. 

As I hoped, Kennedy rose to the occasion. "Miss Guerrero, " he said, "letme introduce Mr. Jameson, who has helped me very much in solving some ofmy most difficult cases. Miss Guerrero's father, Walter, is the owner ofa plantation which sells its product to the company I am interested in. "

She bowed graciously, but there was a moment of embarrassment untilKennedy came to the rescue. 

"I shall need Mr. Jameson in handling your case, Miss Guerrero, " heexplained. "Would it be presuming to ask you to repeat to him brieflywhat you have already told me about the mysterious disappearance of yourfather? Perhaps some additional details will occur to you, things thatyou may consider trivial, but which, I assure you, may be of the utmostimportance. "

She assented, and in a low, tremulous, musical voice bravely wentthrough her story. 

"We come, " she began, "my father and I--for my mother died when I was alittle girl--we come from the northern part of Vespuccia, where foreigncapitalists are much interested in the introduction of a new rubberplant. I am an only child and have been the constant companion of myfather for years, ever since I could ride a pony, going with him aboutour hacienda and on business trips to Europe and the States. 

"I may as well say at the start, Mr. Jameson, that although my father isa large land-owner, he has very liberal political views and is deeply insympathy with the revolution that is now going on in Vespuccia. In fact, we were forced to flee very early in the trouble, and as there seemedto be more need of his services here in New York than in any of theneighbouring countries, we came here. So you see that if the revolutionis not successful his estate will probably be confiscated and we shallbe penniless. He is the agent--the head of the junta, I suppose youwould call it--here in New York. "

"Engaged in purchasing arms and ammunition, " put in Kennedy, as shepaused, "and seeing that they are shipped safely to New Orleans asagricultural machinery, where another agent receives them and attends totheir safe transit across the Gulf. "

She nodded and after a moment resumed

"There is quite a little colony of Vespuccians here in New York, bothrevolutionists and government supporters. I suppose that neither ofyou has any idea of the intriguing that is going on under the peacefulsurface right here in your own city. But there is much of it, more thaneven I know or can tell you. Well, my father lately has been acting veryqueerly. There is a group who meet frequently at the home of a SenoraMendez--an insurrecto group, of course. I do not go, for they areall much older people than I. I know the senora well, but I prefera different kind of person. My friends are younger and perhaps moreradical, more in earnest about the future of Vespuccia. 

"For some weeks it has seemed to me that this Senora Mendez has had toomuch influence over my father. He does not seem like the same man heused to be. Indeed, some of the junta who do not frequent the house ofthe senora have remarked it. He seems moody, works by starts, thenwill neglect his work entirely. Often I see him with his eyes closed, apparently sitting quietly, oblivious to the progress of the cause--theonly cause now which can restore us our estate. 

"The other day we lost an entire shipment of arms--the Secret Servicecaptured them on the way from the warehouse on South Street to thesteamer which was to take them to New Orleans. Only once before had ithappened, when my father did not understand all the things to conceal. Then he was frantic for a week. But this time he seems not to care. Ah, senores, " she said, dropping her voice, "I fear there was some treacherythere. "

"Treachery?" I asked. "And have you any suspicions who might have playedinformer?"

She hesitated. "I may as well tell you just what I suspect. I fear thatthe hold of Senora Mendez is somehow or other concerned with it all. Ieven have suspected that somehow she may be working in the pay of thegovernment that she is a vampire, living on the secrets of the group whoso trust her. I suspect anything, everybody--that she is poisoninghis mind, perhaps even whispering into his ear some siren proposal ofamnesty and his estate again, if he will but do what she asks. My poorfather--I must save him from himself if it is necessary. Argument hasno effect with him. He merely answers that the senora is a talentedand accomplished woman, and laughs a vacant laugh when I hint to him tobeware. I hate her. "

The fiery animosity of her dark eyes boded ill, I felt, for the senora. But it flashed over me that perhaps, after all, the senora was not atraitress, but had simply been scheming to win the heart and hence thehacienda of the great land-owner, when he came into possession of hisestate if the revolution proved successful. 

"And finally, " she concluded, keeping back the tears by an heroiceffort, "last night he left our apartment, promising to return early inthe evening. It is now twenty-four hours, and I have heard not aword from him. It is the first time in my life that we have ever beenseparated so long. "

"And you have no idea where he could have gone?" asked Craig. 

"Only what I have learned from Senor Torreon, another member of thejunta. Senor Torreon said this morning that he left the home of SenoraMendez last night about ten o'clock in company with my father. He saysthey parted at the subway, as they lived on different branches of theroad. Professor Kennedy, " she added, springing up and clasping her handstightly in an appeal that was irresistible, "you know what steps to taketo find him. I trust all to you--even the calling on the police, thoughI think it would be best if we could get along without them. Find myfather, senores, and when we come into our own again you shall notregret that you befriended a lonely girl in a strange city, surroundedby intrigue and danger. " There were tears in her eyes as she stoodswaying before us. 

The tenseness of the appeal was broken by the sharp ringing of thetelephone bell. Kennedy quickly took down the receiver. 

"Your maid wishes to speak to you, " he said, handing the telephone toher. 

Her face brightened with that nervous hope that springs in the humanbreast even in the blackest moments. "I told her if any message came forme she might find me here, " explained Miss Guerrero. "Yes, Juanita, whatis it--a message for me?"

My Spanish was not quite good enough to catch more than a word here andthere in the low conversation, but I could guess from the haggard lookwhich overspread her delicate face that the news was not encouraging. 

"Oh!" she cried, "this is terrible--terrible! What shall I do? Why did Icome here? I don't believe it. I don't believe it. "

"Don't believe what, Miss Guerrero?" asked Kennedy reassuringly. "Trustme. "

"That he stole the money--oh, what am I saying? You must not look forhim--you must forget that I have been here. No, I don't believe it. "

"What money?" asked Kennedy, disregarding her appeal to drop the case. "Remember, it may be better that we should know it now than the policelater. We will respect your confidence. "

"The junta had been notified a few days ago, they say, that a largesum--five hundred thousand silver dollars--had been captured from thegovernment and was on its way to New York to be melted up as bullion atthe sub-treasury, " she answered, repeating what she had heard over thetelephone as if in a dream. "Mr. Jameson referred to the rumour when hecame in. I was interested, for I did not know the public had heard of ityet. The junta has just announced that the money is missing. As soonas the ship docked in Brooklyn this morning an agent appeared with theproper credentials from my father and a guard, and they took the moneyaway. It has not been heard of since--and they have no word from myfather. "

Her face was blanched as she realised what the situation was. Here shewas, setting people to run down her own father, if the suspicions of theother members of the junta were to be credited. 

"You--you do not think my father--stole the money?" she falteredpitifully. "Say you do not think so. "

"I think nothing yet, " replied Kennedy in an even voice. "The firstthing to do is to find him--before the detectives of the junta do so. "

I felt a tinge--I must confess it--of jealousy as Kennedy stood besideher, clasping her hand in both of his and gazing earnestly down into therich flush that now spread over her olive cheeks. 

"Miss Guerrero, " he said, "you may trust me implicitly. If your fatheris alive I will do all that a man can do to find him. Let me act--forthe best. And, " he added, wheeling quickly toward me, "I know Mr. Jameson will do likewise. "

I was pulled two ways at once. I believed in Miss Guerrero, and yet theflight of her father and the removal of the bullion swallowed up, asit were, instantly, without so much as a trace in New York--looked veryblack for him. And yet, as she placed her small hand tremblingly in mineto say good-bye, she won another knight to go forth and fight her battlefor her, nor do I think that I am more than ordinarily susceptible, either. 

When she had gone, I looked hopelessly at Kennedy. How could we find amissing man in a city of four million people, find him without the aidof the police--perhaps before the police could themselves find him?

Kennedy seemed to appreciate my perplexity as though he read mythoughts. "The first thing to do is to locate this Senor Torreon fromwhom the first information came, " he remarked as we left the apartment. "Miss Guerrero told me that he might possibly be found in an obscureboarding-house in the Bronx where several members of the junta live. Letus try, anyway. "

Fortune favoured us to the extent that we did find Torreon at theaddress given. He made no effort to evade us, though I noted that he wasan unprepossessing looking man--undersized and a trifle over-stout, withan eye that never met yours as you talked with him. Whether it was thathe was concealing something, or whether he was merely fearful that wemight after all be United States Secret Service men, or whether it wassimply a lack of command of English, he was uncommonly uncommunicativeat first. He repeated sullenly the details of the disappearance ofGuerrero, just as we had already heard them. 

"And you simply bade him good-bye as you got on a subway train and thatis the last you ever saw of him?" repeated Kennedy. 

"Yes, " he replied. 

"Did he seem to be worried, to have anything on his mind, to act queerlyin any way?" asked Kennedy keenly. 

"No, " came the monosyllabic reply, and there was just that shade ofhesitation about it that made me wish we had the apparatus we used inthe Bond case for registering association time. Kennedy noticed it, andpurposely dropped the line of inquiry in order not to excite Torreon'ssuspicion. 

"I understand no word has been received from him at the headquarters onSouth Street to-day. "

"None, " replied Torreon sharply. 

"And you have no idea where he could have gone after you left him lastnight?"

"No, senor, none. "

This answer was given, I thought, with suspicious quickness. 

"You do not think that he could be concealed by Senora Mendez, then?"asked Kennedy quietly. 

The little man jumped forward with his eyes flashing. "No, " he hissed, checking this show of feeling as quickly as he could. 

"Well, then, " observed Kennedy, rising slowly, "I see nothing to do butto notify the police and have a general alarm sent out. "

The fire died in the eyes of Torreon. "Do not do that, Senor, " heexclaimed. "Wait at least one day more. Perhaps he will appear. Perhaps he has only gone up to Bridgeport to see about some arms andcartridges--who can tell? No, sir, do not call in the police, I begyou--not yet. I myself will search for him. It may be I can get someword, some clue. If I can I will notify Miss Guerrero immediately. "

Kennedy turned suddenly. "Torreon, " he flashed quickly, "what do yoususpect about that shipment of half a million silver dollars? Where didit go after it left the wharf?"

Torreon kept his composure admirably. An enigma of a smile flitted overhis mobile features as he shrugged his shoulders. "Ah, " he said simply, "then you have heard that the money is missing? Perhaps Guerrero has notgone to Bridgeport, after all!"

"On condition that I do not notify the police yet--will you take us tovisit Senora Mendez, and let us learn from her what she knows of thisstrange case?"

Torreon was plainly cornered. He sat for a moment biting his nailsnervously and fidgeting in his chair. "It shall be as you wish, " heassented at length. 

"We are to go, " continued Kennedy, "merely as friends of yours, youunderstand? I want to ask questions in my own way, and you are not to--"

"Yes, yes, " he agreed. "Wait. I will tell her we are coming, " and hereached for the telephone. 

"No, " interrupted Kennedy. "I prefer to go with you unexpected. Putdown the telephone. Otherwise, I may as well notify my friend InspectorO'Connor of the Central Office and go up with him. "

Torreon let the receiver fall back in its socket, and I caught just aglimpse of the look of hate and suspicion which crossed his face as heturned toward Kennedy. When he spoke it was as suavely as if he himselfwere the one who had planned this little excursion. 

"It shall be as you wish, " he said, leading the way out to thecross-town surface cars. 

Senora Mendez received us politely, and we were ushered into a largemusic-room in her apartment. There were several people there already. They were seated in easy chairs about the room. 

One of the ladies was playing on the piano as we entered. It was acurious composition--very rhythmic, with a peculiar thread of monotonousmelody running through it. 

The playing ceased, and all eyes were fixed on us. Kennedy kept veryclose to Torreon, apparently for the purpose of frustrating any attemptat a whispered conversation with the senora. 

The guests rose and with courtly politeness bowed as Senora Mendezpresented two friends of Senor Torreon, Senor Kennedy and Senor Jameson. We were introduced in turn to Senor and Senora Alvardo, Senor Gonzales, Senorita Reyes, and the player, Senora Barrios. 

It was a peculiar situation, and for want of something better to say Icommented on the curious character of the music we had overheard as weentered. 

The senora smiled, and was about to speak when a servant entered, bearing a tray full of little cups with a steaming liquid, and in asilver dish some curious, round, brown, disc-like buttons, about an inchin diameter and perhaps a quarter of an inch thick. Torreon motionedfrantically to the servant to withdraw, but Kennedy was too quick forhim. Interposing himself between Torreon and the servant, he made wayfor her to enter. 

"You were speaking of the music, " replied Senora Mendez to me in rich, full tones. "Yes, it is very curious. It is a song of the Kiowa Indiansof New Mexico which Senora Barrios has endeavoured to set to music sothat it can be rendered on the piano. Senora Barrios and myself fledfrom Vespuccia to Mexico at the start of our revolution, and when theMexican government ordered us to leave on account of our politicalactivity we merely crossed the line to the United States, in NewMexico. It was there that we ran across this very curious discovery. Themonotonous beat of that melody you heard is supposed to represent thebeating of the tom-toms of the Indians during their mescal rites. We arehaving a mescal evening here, whiling away the hours of exile from ournative Vespuccia. "

"Mescal?" I repeated blankly at first, then feeling a nudge fromKennedy, I added hastily: "Oh, yes, to be sure. I think I have heard ofit. It's a Mexican drink, is it not? I have never had the pleasure oftasting it or of tasting that other drink, pulque--poolkay--did I getthe accent right?"

I felt another, sharper nudge from Kennedy, and knew that I had onlymade matters worse. 

"Mr. Jameson, " he hastened to remark, "confounds this mescal of theIndians with the drink of the same name that is common in Mexico. "

"Oh, " she laughed, to my great relief, "but this mescal is somethingquite different. The Mexican drink mescal is made from the maguey-plantand is a frightfully horrid thing that sends the peon out of his sensesand makes him violent. Mescal as I mean it is a little shrub, a god, acult, a religion. "

"Yes, " assented Kennedy; "discovered by those same Kiowa Indians, was itnot?"

"Perhaps, " she admitted, raising her beautiful shoulders in politedeprecation. "The mescal religion, we found, has spread very largely inNew Mexico and Arizona among the Indians, and with the removal of theKiowas to the Indian reservation it has been adopted by other tribeseven, I have heard, as far north as the Canadian border. "

"Is that so?" asked Kennedy. "I understood that the United Statesgovernment had forbidden the importation of the mescal plant and itssale to the Indians under severe penalties. "

"It has, sir, " interposed Alvardo, who had joined us, "but still themescal cult grows secretly. For my part, I think it might be more wisefor your authorities to look to the whiskey and beer that unscrupulouspersons are selling. Senor Jameson, " he added, turning to me, "willyou join us in a little cup of this artificial paradise, as one of yourEnglish writers--Havelock Ellis, I think--has appropriately called it?"

I glanced dubiously at Kennedy as Senora Mendez took one of the littlebuttons out of the silver tray. Carefully paring the fuzzy tuft of hairsoff the top of it--it looked to me very much like the tip of a cactusplant, which, indeed, it was--she rolled it into a little pellet andplaced it in her mouth, chewing it slowly like a piece of chicle. 

"Watch me; do just as I do, " whispered Kennedy to me at a moment when noone was looking. 

The servant advanced towards us with the tray. 

"The mescal plant, " explained Alvardo, pointing at the little discs, "grows precisely like these little buttons which you see here. It is aspecies of cactus which rises only half an inch or so from the ground. The stem is surrounded by a clump of blunt leaves which give it itsbutton shape, and on the top you will see still the tuft of filaments, like a cactus. It grows in the rocky soil in many places in the stateof Jalisco, though only recently has it become known to science. TheIndians, when they go out to gather it, simply lop off these little endsas they peep above the earth, dry them, keep what they wish for theirown use, and sell the rest for what is to them a fabulous sum. Somepeople chew the buttons, while a few have lately tried making aninfusion or tea out of them. Perhaps to a beginner I had betterrecommend the infusion. "

I had scarcely swallowed the bitter, almost nauseous decoction than Ibegan to feel my heart action slowing up and my pulse beating fuller andstronger. The pupils of my eyes expanded as with a dose of belladonna;at least, I could see that Kennedy's did, and so mine must have done thesame. 

I seemed to feel an elated sense of superiority--really I almostbegan to feel that it was I, not Kennedy, who counted most in thisinvestigation. I have since learned that this is the common experienceof mescal-users, this sense of elation; but the feeling of physicalenergy and intellectual power soon wore off, and I found myself glad torecline in my easy chair, as the rest did, in silent indolence. 

Still, the display that followed for an enchanted hour or so was such asI find it hopeless to describe in language which shall convey to othersthe beauty and splendour of what I saw. 

I picked up a book lying on the table before me. A pale blue-violetshadow floated across the page before me, leaving an after-image of purecolour that was indescribable. I laid down the book and closed my eyes. A confused riot of images and colours like a kaleidoscope crowded beforeme, at first indistinct, but, as I gazed with closed yes, more and moredefinite. Golden and red and green jewels seemed to riot before me. Ibathed my hands in inconceivable riches of beauty such as no art-glassworker has ever produced. All discomfort ceased. I had no desire tosleep--in fact, was hyper-sensitive. But it was a real effort to openmy eyes; to tear myself away from the fascinating visions of shapes andcolours. 

At last I did open my eyes to gaze at the gasjets of the chandelieras they flickered. They seemed to send out waves, expanding andcontracting, waves of colour. The shadows of the room were highlycoloured and constantly changing as the light changed. 

Senora Barrios began lightly to play on the piano the transposed Kiowasong, emphasising the notes that represented the drum-beats. Strangeas it may seem, the music translated itself into pure colour--and therhythmic beating of the time seemed to aid the process. I thought of theuntutored Indians as they sat in groups about the flickering camp-firewhile others beat the tom-toms and droned the curious melody. What werethe visions of the red man, I wondered, as he chewed his mescal buttonand the medicine man prayed to Hikori, the cactus god, to grant a"beautiful intoxication?"

Under the gas-lights of the chandelier hung a cluster of electric lightbulbs which added to the flood of golden effulgence that bathed the roomand all things in it. I gazed next intently at the electric lights. Theybecame the sun itself in their steadiness, until I had to turn away myhead and close my eyes. Even then the image persisted--I saw the goldensands of Newport, only they were blazing with glory as if they wereveritable diamond dust: I saw the waves, of incomparable blue, rollingup on the shore. A vague perfume was wafted on the air. I was in an orgyof vision. Yet there was no stage of maudlin emotion. It was at leastelevating. 

Kennedy's experiences as he related them to me afterwards were similar, though sufficiently varied to be interesting. His visions took the formsof animals--a Cheshire cat, like that in "Alice in Wonderland, " withmerely a grin that faded away, changing into a lynx which in turndisappeared, followed by an unknown creature with short nose and pointedears, then tortoises and guinea-pigs, a perfectly unrelated successionof beasts. When the playing began a beautiful panorama unfolded beforehim--the regular notes in the music enhancing the beauty, and changes inthe scenes, which he described as a most wonderful kinetoscopic display. 

In fact, only De Quincey or Bayard Taylor or Poe could have done justiceto the thrilling effects of the drug, and not even they unless anamanuensis had been seated by them to take down what they dictated, forI defy anyone to remember anything but a fraction of the rapid march ofchanges under its influence. Indeed, in observing its action I almostforgot for the time being the purpose of our visit, so fascinated was I. The music ceased, but not the visions. 

Senora Mendez advanced toward us. The spangles on her net dress seemedto give her a fairy-like appearance; she seemed to float over the carpetlike a glowing, fleecy, white cloud over a rainbow-tinted sky. 

Kennedy, however, had not for an instant forgotten what we were therefor, and his attention recalled mine. I was surprised to see that whenI made the effort I could talk and think quite as rationally as ever, though the wildest pranks were going on in my mind and vision. Kennedydid not beat about in putting his question, evidently counting on thesurprise to extract the truth. 

"What time did Senor Guerrero leave last night?"

The question came so suddenly that she had no time to think of a replythat would conceal anything she might otherwise have wished to conceal. 

"About ten o'clock, " she answered, then instantly was on her guard, forTorreon had caught her eye. 

"And you have no idea where he went?" asked Kennedy. 

"None, unless he went home, " she replied guardedly. 

I did not at the time notice the significance of her prompt responseto Torreon's warning. I did not notice, as did Kennedy, the smile thatspread over Torreon's features. The music had started again, and I wasoblivious to all but the riot of colour. 

Again the servant entered. She seemed clothed in a halo of light andcolour, every fold of her dress radiating the most delicate tones. Yetthere was nothing voluptuous or sensual about it. I was raised aboveearthly things. Men and women were no longer men and women--they werebrilliant creatures of whom I was one. It was sensuous, but not sensual. I looked at my own clothes. My everyday suit was idealised. My handswere surrounded by a glow of red fire that made me feel that they mustbe the hands of a divinity. I noticed them as I reached forward towardthe tray of little cups. 

There swam into my line of vision another such hand. It laid itself onmy arm. A voice sang in my ear softly:

"No, Walter, we have had enough. Come, let us go. This is not like anyother known drug--not even the famous Cannabis indica, hasheesh. Let usgo as soon as we politely can. I have found out what I wanted to know. Guerrero is not here. "

We rose shortly and excused ourselves and, with general regrets in whichall but Torreon joined, were bowed out with the same courtly politenesswith which we had been received. 

As we left the house, the return to the world was quick. It was likecoming out from the matinee and seeing the crowds on the street. They, not the matinee, were unreal for the moment. But, strange to say, Ifound one felt no depression as a result of the mescal intoxication. 

"What is it about mescal that produces such results?" I asked. 

"The alkaloids, " replied Kennedy as we walked slowly along. "Mescal wasfirst brought to the attention of scientists by explorers employed byour bureau of ethnology. Dr. Weir Mitchell and Dr. Harvey Wiley andseveral German scientists have investigated it since then. It is wellknown that it contains half a dozen alkaloids and resins of curiousand little-investigated nature. I can't recall even the names of themoffhand, but I have them in my laboratory. "

As the effect of the mescal began to wear off in the fresh air, I foundmyself in a peculiar questioning state. What had we gained by our visit?Looking calmly at it, I could not help but ask myself why both Torreonand Senora Mendez had acted as if they were concealing something aboutthe whereabouts of Guerrero. Was she a spy? Did she know anything aboutthe loss of the half-million dollars?

Of one thing I was certain. Torreon was an ardent admirer of thebeautiful senora, equally ardent with Guerrero. Was he simply a jealoussuitor, angry at his rival, and now glad that he was out of the way?Where had Guerrero gone The question was still unanswered. 

Absorbed in these reveries, I did not notice particularly where Kennedywas hurrying me. In fact, finding no plausible answer to my speculationsand knowing that it was useless to question Kennedy at this stage of hisinquiry, I did not for the moment care where we went but allowed him totake the lead. 

We entered one of the fine apartments on the drive and rode up inthe elevator. A door opened and, with a start, I found myself in thepresence of Miss Guerrero again. The questioning look on her facerecalled the object of our search, and its ill success so far. Why hadKennedy come back with so little to report?

"Have you heard anything?" she asked eagerly. 

"Not directly, " replied Kennedy. "But I have a clue, at least. I believethat Torreon knows where your father is and will let you know any momentnow. It is to his interest to clear himself before this scandal aboutthe money becomes generally known. Would you allow me to search throughyour father's desk?"

For some moments Kennedy rummaged through the drawers and pigeonholes, silently. 

"Where does the junta keep its arms stored--not in the meeting-place onSouth Street does it?" asked Kennedy at length. 

"Not exactly; that would be a little too risky, " she replied. "I believethey have a loft above the office, hired in someone else's name and notconnected with the place down-stairs at all. My father and Senor Torreonare the only ones who have the keys. Why do you ask?"

"I ask, " replied Craig, "because I was wondering whether there might notbe something that would take him down to South Street last night. It isthe only place I can think of his going to at such a late hour, unlesshe has gone out of town. If we do not hear from Torreon soon I think Iwill try what. I can find down there. Ah, what is this?"

Kennedy drew forth a little silver box and opened it. Inside reposed adozen mescal buttons. 

We both looked quickly at Miss Guerrero, but it was quite evident thatshe was unacquainted with them. 

She was about to ask what Kennedy had found when the telephone rang andthe maid announced that Miss Guerrero was wanted by Senor Torreon. 

A smile of gratification flitted over Kennedy's face as he leaned overto me and whispered: "It is evident that Torreon is anxious to clearhimself. I'll wager he has done some rapid hustling since we left him. "

"Perhaps this is some word about my father at last, " murmured MissGuerrero as she nervously hurried to the telephone, and answered, "Yes, this is Senorita Guerrero, Senor Torreon. You are at the office ofthe junta? Yes, yes, you have word from my father--you went downthere to-night expecting some guns to be delivered?--and you found himthere--up-stairs in the loft--ill, did you say?--unconscious?"

In an instant her face was drawn and pale, and the receiver fellclattering to the hard-wood floor from her nerveless fingers. 

"He is dead!" she gasped as she swayed backward and I caught her. WithKennedy's help I carried her, limp and unconscious, across the room, andplaced her in a deep armchair. I stood at her side, but for the momentcould only look on helplessly, blankly at the now stony beauty of herface. 

"Some water, Juanita, quick!" I cried as soon as I had recovered fromthe shock. "Have you any smelling-salts or anything of that sort?Perhaps you can find a little brandy. Hurry. "

While we were making her comfortable the telephone continued to tinkle. 

"This is Kennedy, " I heard Craig say, as Juanita came hurrying in withwater, smelling-salts, and brandy. "You fool. She fainted. Why couldn'tyou break it to her gently? What's that address on South Street? Youfound him over the junta meeting-place in a loft? Yes, I understand. What were you doing down there? You went down expecting a shipmentof arms and saw a light overhead I see--and suspecting something youentered with a policeman. You heard him move across the floor aboveand fall heavily? All right. Someone will be down directly. Ambulancesurgeon has tried everything, you say? No heart action, no breathing?Sure. Very well. Let the body remain just where it is until I getdown. Oh, wait. How long ago did it happen? Fifteen minutes? All right. Good-bye. "

Such restoratives as we had found we applied faithfully. At last we wererewarded by the first flutter of an eyelid. Then Miss Guerrero gazedwildly about. 

"He is dead, " she moaned. "They have killed him. I know it. My fatheris dead. " Over and over she repeated: "He is dead. I shall never see himagain. "

Vainly I tried to soothe her. What was there to say? There could beno doubt about it. Torreon must have gone down directly after we leftSenora Mendez. He had seen a light in the loft, had entered with apoliceman--as a witness, he had told Craig over the telephone--had heardGuerrero fall, and had sent for the ambulance. How long Guerrero hadbeen there he did not know, for while members of the junta had beencoming and going all day in the office below none had gone up into thelocked loft. 

Kennedy with rare skill calmed Miss Guerrero's dry-eyed hysteria intoa gentle rain of tears, which relieved her overwrought feelings. Wesilently withdrew, leaving the two women, mistress and servant, weeping. 

"Craig, " I asked when we had gained the street, "what do you make of it?We must lose no time. Arrest this Mendez woman before she has a chanceto escape. "

"Not so fast, Walter, " he cautioned as we spun along in a taxicab. "Ourcase isn't very complete against anybody yet. "

"But it looks black for Guerrero, " I admitted. "Dead men tell no taleseven to clear themselves. "

"It all depends on speed now, " he answered laconically. 

We had reached the university, which was only a few blocks away, andCraig dashed into his laboratory while I settled with the driver. Hereappeared almost instantly with some bulky apparatus under his arm, and we more than ran from the building to the near-by subway station. Fortunately there was an express just pulling in, as we tumbled down thesteps. 

To one who knows South Street as merely a river-front street whose gloryof other days has long since departed, where an antiquated horsecarnow ambles slowly uptown, and trucks and carts all day long are in aperpetual jam, it is peculiarly uninteresting by day, and peculiarlydeserted and vicious by night. But there is another fascination aboutSouth Street. Perhaps there has never been a revolution in Latin Americawhich has not in some way or other been connected with this street, whence hundreds of filibustering expeditions have started. Whenever adictator is to be overthrown, or half a dozen chocolate-skinned generalsin the Caribbean become dissatisfied with their portions of gold lace, the arms- and ammunition-dealers of South Street can give, if theychoose, an advance scenario of the whole tragedy or comic opera, as thecase may be. Real war or opera-bouffe, it is all grist for the mills ofthese close-mouthed individuals. 

Our quest took us to a ramshackle building reminiscent of the days whenthe street bristled with bowsprits of ships from all over the world, anage when the American merchantman flew our flag on the uttermost of theseven-seas. On the ground floor was an apparently innocent junk dealer'sshop, in reality the meeting-place of the junta. By an outside stairwaythe lofts above were reached, hiding their secrets behind windows opaquewith decades of dust. 

At the door we were met by Torreon and the policeman. Both appeared tobe shocked beyond measure. Torreon was profuse in explanations whichdid not explain. Out of the tangled mass of verbiage I did manage toextract, however, the impression that, come what might to the othermembers of the junta, Torreon was determined to clear his own name atany cost. He and the policeman had discovered Senor Guerrero only ashort time before, up-stairs. For all he knew, Guerrero had been theresome time, perhaps all day, while the others were meeting down-stairs. Except for the light he might have been there undiscovered still. Torreon swore he had heard Guerrero fall; the policeman was not quite sopositive. 

Kennedy listened impatiently, then sprang up the stairs, only to callback to the policeman: "Go call me a taxicab at the ferry, an electriccab. Mind, now, not a gasoline-cab--electric. "

We found the victim lying on a sort of bed of sailcloth in a loftapparently devoted to the peaceful purposes of the junk trade, butreally a perfect arsenal and magazine. It was dusty and cobwebbed, crammed with stands of arms, tents, uniforms in bales, batteries ofMaxims and mountain-guns, and all the paraphernalia for carrying on areal twentieth-century revolution. 

The young ambulance surgeon was still there, so quickly had we been ableto get down-town. He had his stomach-pump, hypodermic syringe, emetics, and various tubes spread out on a piece of linen on a packing-case. Kennedy at once inquired just what he had done. 

"Thought at first it was only a bad case of syncope, " he replied, "butI guess he was dead some minutes before I got here. Tried rhythmictraction of the tongue, artificial respiration, stimulants, chest andheart massage--everything, but it was no use:"

"Have you any idea what caused his death?" asked Craig as he hastilyadjusted his apparatus to an electric light socket--a rheostat, aninduction-coil of peculiar shape, and an "interrupter. "

"Poison of some kind--an alkaloid. They say they heard him fall as theycame up-stairs, and when they got to him he was blue. His face was asblue as it is now when I arrived. Asphyxia, failure of both heart andlungs, that was what the alkaloid caused. "

The gong of the electric cab sounded outside. As Craig heard it herushed with two wires to the window, threw them out, and hurrieddownstairs, attaching them to the batteries of the cab. 

In an instant he was back again. 

"Now, Doctor, " he said, "I'm going to perform a very delicate test onthis man. Here I have the alternating city current and here a direct, continuous current from the storage-batteries of the cab below. Doctor, hold his mouth open. So. Now, have you a pair of forceps handy? Good. Can you catch hold of the tip of his tongue? There. Do just as I tellyou. I apply this cathode to his skin in the dorsal region; under theback of the neck, and this anode in the lumbar region at the base of thespine--just pieces of cotton soaked in salt solution and covering themetal electrodes, to give me a good contact with the body. "

I was fascinated. It was gruesome, and yet I could not take my eyesoff it. Torreon stood blankly, in a daze. Craig was as calm as if hisevery-day work was experimenting on cadavers. 

He applied the current, moving the anode and the cathode slowly. I hadoften seen the experiments on the nerves of a frog that had been freshlykilled, how the electric current will make the muscles twitch, asdiscovered long ago by Galvani. But I was not prepared to see it on ahuman being. Torreon muttered something and crossed himself. 

The arms seemed half to rise--then suddenly to fall, flabby again. Therewas a light hiss like an inspiration and expiration of air, a ghastlysound. 

"Lungs react, " muttered Kennedy, "but the heart doesn't. I must increasethe voltage. "

Again he applied the electrodes. 

The face seemed a different shade of blue, I thought. 

"Good God, Kennedy, " I exclaimed, "do you suppose the effect of thatmescal on me hasn't worn off yet? Blue, blue everything blue is playingpranks before my eyes. Tell me, is the blue of that face--his face--isit changing? Do you see it, or do I imagine it?"

"Blood asphyxiated, " was the disjointed reply. "The oxygen is clearingit. "

"But, Kennedy, " I persisted; "his face was dark blue, black a minuteago. The most astonishing change has taken place. Its colour is almostnatural now. Do I imagine it or is it real?"

Kennedy was so absorbed in his work that he made no reply at all. Heheard nothing, nothing save the slow, forced inspiration and expirationof air as he deftly and quickly manipulated the electrodes. 

"Doctor, " he cried at length, "tell me what is going on in that heart. "

The young surgeon bent his head and placed his ear on the cold breast. As he raised his eyes and they chanced to rest on Kennedy's hands, holding the electrodes dangling idly in the air, I think I never saw agreater look of astonishment on a human face. "It--is--almost--natural, "he gasped. 

"With great care and a milk diet for a few days Guerrero will live, "said Kennedy quietly. "It is natural. "

"My God, man, but he was dead!" exclaimed the surgeon. "I know it. Hisheart was stopped and his lungs collapsed. "

"To all intents and purposes he was dead, dead as ever a man was, "replied Craig, "and would be now, if I hadn't happened to think of thisspecial induction-coil loaned to me by a doctor who had studied deeplythe process of electric resuscitation developed by Professor Leduc ofthe Nantes Ecole de Medicin. There is only one case I know of on recordwhich compares with this--a case of a girl resuscitated in Paris. Thegirl was a chronic morphine-eater and was 'dead' forty minutes. "

I stood like one frozen, the thing was so incomprehensible, after themany surprises of the evening that had preceded. Torreon, in fact, didnot comprehend for the moment. 

As Kennedy and I bent over, Guerrero's eyes opened, but he apparentlysaw nothing. His hand moved a little, and his lips parted. Kennedyquickly reached into the pockets of the man gasping for breath, one after another. From a vest pocket he drew a little silver case, identical with that he had found in the desk up-town. He opened it, andone mescal button rolled out into the palm of his hand. Kennedy regardedit thoughtfully. 

"I suspect there is at least one devotee of the vision-breeding drugwho will no longer cultivate its use, as a result of this, " he added, looking significantly at the man before us. 

"Guerrero, " shouted Kennedy, placing his mouth close to the man's ear, but muting his voice so that only I could distinguish what he said, "Guerrero, where is the money?"

His lips moved trembling again, but I could not make out that he saidanything. 

Kennedy rose and quietly went over to detach his apparatus from theelectric light socket behind Torreon. 

"Car-ramba!" I heard as I turned suddenly. 

Craig had Torreon firmly pinioned from behind by both arms. Thepoliceman quickly interposed. 

"It's all right, --officer, " exclaimed Craig. "Walter, reach into hisinside pocket. "

I pulled out a bunch of papers and turned them over. 

"What's that?" asked Kennedy as I came to something neatly enclosed inan envelope. 

I opened it. It was a power of attorney from Guerrero to Torreon. 

"Perhaps it is no crime to give a man mescal if he wants it--I doubt ifthe penal code covers that, " ejaculated Kennedy. "But it is conspiracyto give it to him and extract a power of attorney by which you can getcontrol of trust funds consigned to him. Manuel Torreon, the game is up. You and Senora Mendez have played your parts well. But you havelost. You waited until you thought Guerrero was dead, then you took apoliceman along as a witness to clear yourself. But the secret is notdead, after all. Is there nothing else in those papers, Walter? Yes? Ah, a bill of lading dated to-day? Ten cases of 'scrap iron' from New Yorkto Boston--a long chance for such valuable 'scrap, ' senor, but I supposeyou had to get the money away from New York, at any risk. "

"And Senora Mendez?" I asked as my mind involuntarily reverted to thebrilliantly lighted room up-town. "What part did she have in the plotagainst Guerrero?"

Torreon stood sullenly silent. Kennedy reached in another of Torreon'spockets and drew out a third little silver box of mescal buttons. Holding all three of the boxes, identically the same, before us heremarked: "Evidently Torreon was not averse to having his victim underthe influence of mescal as much as possible. He must have forced it onhim--all's fair in love and revolution, I suppose. I believe he broughthim down here under the influence of mescal last night, obtained thepower of attorney, and left him here to die of the mescal intoxication. It was just a case of too strong a hold of the mescal--the artificialparadise was too alluring to Guerrero, and Torreon knew it and tried toprofit by it to the extent of half a million dollars. "

It was more than I could grasp at the instant. The impossible hadhappened. I had seen the dead--literally--brought back to life and thesecret which the criminal believed buried wrung from the grave. 

Kennedy must have noted the puzzled look on my face. "Walter, " he said, casually, as he wrapped up his instruments, "don't stand there gapinglike Billikin. Our part in this case is finished--at least mine is. But I suspect from some of the glances I have seen you steal at varioustimes that--well, perhaps you would like a few moments in a realparadise. I saw a telephone down-stairs. Go call up Miss Guerrero andtell her her father is alive--and innocent. "

XII. The Steel Door

It was what, in college, we used to call "good football weather"--acrisp, autumn afternoon that sent the blood tingling through brain andmuscle. Kennedy and I were enjoying a stroll on the drive, dividingour attention between the glowing red sunset across the Hudson and thestring of homeward-bound automobiles on the broad parkway. Suddenly ahuge black touring car marked with big letters, "P. D. N. Y. , " shot past. 

"Joy-riding again in one of the city's cars, " I remarked. "I thought thelast Police Department shake-up had put a stop to that. "

"Perhaps it has, " returned Kennedy. "Did you see who was in the car?"

"No, but I see it has turned and is coming back. "

"It was Inspector--I mean, First Deputy O'Connor. I thought herecognised us as he whizzed along, and I guess he did, too. Ah, congratulations, O'Connor! I haven't had a chance to tell you before howpleased I was to learn you had been appointed first deputy. It ought tohave been commissioner, though, " added Kennedy. 

"Congratulations nothing, " rejoined O'Connor. "Just anothernew-deal-election coming on, mayor must make a show of getting somereform done, and all that sort of thing. So he began with the PoliceDepartment, and here I am, first deputy. But, say, Kennedy, " he added, dropping his voice, "I've a little job on my mind that I'd like to pulloff in about as spectacular a fashion as I--as you know how. I want tomake good, conspicuously good, at the start--understand? Maybe I'll be'broke' for it and sent to pounding the pavements of Dismissalville, but I don't care, I'll take a chance. On the level, Kennedy, it's a bigthing, and it ought to be done. Will you help me put it across?"

"What is it?" asked Kennedy with a twinkle in his eye at O'Connor'sestimate of the security of his tenure of office. 

O'Connor drew us away from the automobile toward the stone parapetoverlooking the railroad and river far below, and out of earshot ofthe department chauffeur. "I want to pull off a successful raid on theVesper Club, " he whispered earnestly, scanning our faces. 

"Good heavens, man, " I ejaculated, "don't you know that Senator Danfieldis interested in--"

"Jameson, " interrupted O'Connor reproachfully, "I said 'on the level' afew moments ago, and I meant it. Senator Danfield he--well, anyhow, if Idon't do it the district attorney will, with the aid of the Dowling law, and I am going to beat him to it, that's all. There's too much moneybeing lost at the Vesper Club, anyhow. It won't hurt Danfield to betaught a lesson not to run such a phony game. I may like to put up aquiet bet myself on the ponies now and then--I won't say I don't, butthis thing of Danfield's has got beyond all reason. It's the crookedestgambling joint in the city, at least judging by the stories they tell oflosses there. And so beastly aristocratic, too. Read that. "

O'Connor shoved a letter into Kennedy's hand, a dainty perfumed andmonogrammed little missive addressed in a feminine hand. It was such aletter as comes by the thousand to the police in the course of a year;though seldom from ladies of the smart set. 

"Dear Sir: I notice in the newspapers this morning that you have justbeen appointed first deputy commissioner of police and that you havebeen ordered to suppress gambling in New York. For the love that youmust still bear toward your own mother, listen to the story of a motherworn with anxiety for her only son, and if there is any justice orrighteousness in this great city close up a gambling hell that issending to ruin scores of our finest young men. No doubt you knowor have heard of my family--the DeLongs are not unknown in New York. Perhaps you have also heard of the losses of my son Percival at theVesper Club. They are fast becoming the common talk of our set. I am notrich, Mr. Commissioner, in spite of our social position, but I am human, as human as a mother in any station of life, and oh, if there is anyway, close up that gilded society resort that is dissipating oursmall fortune, ruining an only son, and slowly bringing to the gravea gray-haired widow, as worthy of protection as any mother of the poorwhose plea has closed up a little poolroom or low policy shop. "

Sincerely, (Mrs. ) Julia M. DeLong. 

P. S. --Please keep this confidential--at least from my son Percival. 

J. M. DeL. 

"Well, " said Kennedy, as he handed back the letter, "O'Connor, if you doit, I'll take back all the hard things I've ever said about the policesystem. Young DeLong was in one of my classes at the university, untilhe was expelled for that last mad prank of his. There's more to that boythan most people think, but he's the wildest scion of wealth I have evercome in contact with. How are you going to pull off your raid--is it tobe down through the skylight or up from the cellar?"

"Kennedy, " replied O'Connor in the same reproachful tone with which hehad addressed me, "talk sense. I'm in earnest. You know the Vesper Clubis barred and barricaded like the National City Bank. It isn't one ofthose common gambling joints which depend for protection on what wecall 'ice-box doors. ' It's proof against all the old methods. Axes andsledge-hammers would make no impression there. "

"Your predecessor had some success at opening doors with a hydraulicjack, I believe, in some very difficult raids, " put in Kennedy. 

"A hydraulic jack wouldn't do for the Vesper Club, I'm afraid, "remarked O'Connor wearily. "Why, sir, that place has been provedbomb-proof--bomb-proof, sir. You remember recently the so-called'gamblers' war' in which some rivals exploded a bomb on the steps? Itdid more damage to the house next door than to the club. However, I canget past the outer door, I think, even if it is strong. But inside--youmust have heard of it--is the famous steel door, three inches thick, made of armourplate. It's no use to try it at all unless we can passthat door with reasonable quickness. All the evidence we shall get willbe of an innocent social club-room downstairs. The gambling is all onthe second floor, beyond this door, in a room without a window in it. Surely you've heard of that famous gambling-room, with its perfectsystem of artificial ventilation and electric lighting that makes itrival noonday at midnight. And don't tell me I've got to get on theother side of the door by strategy, either. It is strategy-proof. Thesystem of lookouts is perfect. No, force is necessary, but it must notbe destructive of life or property--or, by heaven, I'd drive up thereand riddle the place with a fourteen-inch gun, " exclaimed O'Connor. 

"H'm!" mused Kennedy as he flicked the ashes off his cigar andmeditatively watched a passing freight-train on the railroad below us. "There goes a car loaded with tons and tons of scrap iron. You want meto scrap that three-inch steel door, do you?"

"Kennedy, I'll buy that particular scrap from you at almost its weightin gold. The fact is, I have a secret fund at my disposal such as formercommissioners have asked for in vain. I can afford to pay you well, as well as any private client, and I hear you have had some good feeslately. Only deliver the goods. "

"No, " answered Kennedy, rather piqued, "it isn't money that I am after. I merely wanted to be sure that you are in earnest. I can get you pastthat door as if it were made of green baize. "

It was O'Connor's turn to look incredulous, but as Kennedy apparentlymeant exactly what he said, he simply asked, "And will you?"

"I will do it to-night if you say so, " replied Kennedy quietly. "Are youready?"

For answer O'Connor simply grasped Craig's hand, as if to seal thecompact. 

"All right, then, " continued Kennedy. "Send a furniture-van, one ofthose closed vans that the storage warehouses use, up to my laboratoryany time before seven o'clock. How many men will you need in the raid?Twelve? Will a van hold that many comfortably? I'll want to put someapparatus in it, but that won't take much room. "

"Why, yes, I think so, " answered O'Connor. "I'll get a well-padded vanso that they won't be badly jolted by the ride down-town. By George!Kennedy, I see you know more of that side of police strategy than I gaveyou credit for. "

"Then have the men drop into my laboratory singly about the same time. You can arrange that so that it will not look suspicious, so far uptown. It will be dark, anyhow. Perhaps, O'Connor, you can make up as thedriver yourself--anyhow, get one you can trust absolutely. Then havethe van down near the corner of Broadway below the club, driving slowlyalong about the time the theatre crowd is out. Leave the rest to me. Iwill give you or the driver orders when the time comes. "

As O'Connor thanked Craig, he remarked without a shade of insincerity, "Kennedy, talk about being commissioner, you ought to be commissioner. "

"Wait till I deliver the goods, " answered Craig simply. "I may fall downand bring you nothing but a lawsuit for damages for unlawful entry orunjust persecution, or whatever they call it. "

"I'll take a chance at that, " called back O'Connor as he jumped into hiscar and directed, "Headquarters, quick. "

As the car disappeared, Kennedy filled his lungs with air as ifreluctant to leave the drive. "Our constitutional, " he remarked, "isabruptly at an end, Walter. "

Then he laughed, as he looked about him. 

"What a place in which to plot a raid on Danfield's Vesper Club! Why, the nurse-maids have hardly got the children all in for supper and bed. It's incongruous. Well, I must go over to the laboratory and get somethings ready to put in that van with the men. Meet me about half-pastseven, Walter, up in the room, all togged up. We'll dine at the CafeRiviera to-night in style. And, by the way, you're quite a man abouttown--you must know someone who can introduce us into the Vesper Club. "

"But, Craig, " I demurred, "if there is any rough work as a result, itmight queer me with them. They might object to being used--"

"Oh, that will be all right. I just want to look the place over andlose a few chips in a good cause. No, it won't queer any of your Starconnections. We'll be on the outside when the time comes for anything tohappen. In fact I shouldn't wonder if your story would make you all themore solid with the sports. I take all the responsibility; you can havethe glory. You know they like to hear the inside gossip of such things, after the event. Try it. Remember, at seven-thirty. We'll be a littlelate at dinner, but never mind; it will be early enough for the club. "

Left to my own devices I determined to do a little detective work on myown account, and not only did I succeed in finding an acquaintance whoagreed to introduce us at the Vesper Club that night about nine o'clock, but I also learned that Percival DeLong was certain to be there thatnight, too. I was necessarily vague about Kennedy, for fear my friendmight have heard of some of his exploits, but fortunately he did notprove inquisitive. 

I hurried back to our apartment and was in the process of transformingmyself into a full-fledged boulevardier, when Kennedy arrived inan extremely cheerful frame of mind. So far, his preparations hadprogressed very favourably, I guessed, and I was quite elated when hecomplimented me on what I had accomplished in the meantime. 

"Pretty tough for the fellows who are condemned to ride around in thatvan for four mortal hours, though, " he said as he hurried into hisevening clothes, "but they won't be riding all the time. The driver willmake frequent stops. "

I was so busy that I paid little attention to him until he had nearlycompleted his toilet. I gave a gasp. 

"Why, whatever are you doing?" I exclaimed as I glanced into his room. 

There stood Kennedy arrayed in all the glory of a sharp-pointedmoustache and a goatee. He had put on evening clothes of decidedlyParisian cut, clothes which he had used abroad and had brought back withhim, but which I had never known him to wear since he came back. Ona chair reposed a chimney-pot hat that would have been pronouncedfaultless on the "continong, " but was unknown, except among impresarios, on Broadway. 

Kennedy shrugged his shoulders--he even had the shrug. 

"Figure to yourself, monsieur, " he said. "Ze great Kennedy, ze detectifAmericain--to put it tersely in our own vernacular, wouldn't it be afool thing for me to appear at the Vesper Club where I should surely berecognised by someone if I went in my ordinary clothes and features? Unfaux pas, at the start? Jamais!"

There was nothing to do but agree, and I was glad that I had beendiscreetly reticent about my companion in talking with the friend whowas to gain us entrance to the Avernus beyond the steel door. 

We met my friend at the Riviera and dined sumptuously. Fortunately heseemed decidedly impressed with my friend Monsieur Kay--I could do nobetter on the spur of the moment than take Kennedy's initial, whichseemed to serve. We progressed amicably from oysters and soup down tocoffee, cigars, and liqueurs, and I succeeded in swallowing Kennedy'stales of Monte Carlo and Ostend and Ascot without even a smile. Hemust have heard them somewhere, and treasured them up for just such anoccasion, but he told them in a manner that was verisimilitude itself, using perfect English with just the trace of an accent at the rightplaces. 

At last it was time to saunter around to the Vesper Club without seemingto be too indecently early. The theatres were not yet out, but my friendsaid play was just beginning at the club and would soon be in fullswing. 

I had a keen sense of wickedness as we mounted the steps in the yellowflare of the flaming arc-light on the Broadway corner not far below us. A heavy, grated door swung open at the practised signal of my friend, and an obsequious negro servant stood bowing and pronouncing his namein the sombre mahogany portal beyond, with its green marble pillars andhandsome decorations. A short parley followed, after which we entered, my friend having apparently satisfied someone that we were all right. 

We did not stop to examine the first floor, which doubtless was innocentenough, but turned quickly up a flight of steps. At the foot of thebroad staircase Kennedy paused to examine some rich carvings, and I felthim nudge me. I turned. It was an enclosed staircase, with walls thatlooked to be of re-enforced concrete. Swung back on hinges concealedlike those of a modern burglar-proof safe was the famous steel door. 

We did not wish to appear to be too interested, yet a certain amount ofcuriosity was only proper. 

My friend paused on the steps, turned, and came back. 

"You're perfectly safe, " he smiled, tapping the door with his cane witha sort of affectionate respect. "It would take the police ages to getpast that barrier, which would be swung shut and bolted the moment thelookout gave the alarm. But there has never been any trouble. The policeknow that it is so far, no farther. Besides, " he added with a wink tome, "you know, Senator Danfield wouldn't like this pretty little dooreven scratched. Come up, I think I hear DeLong's voice up-stairs. You'veheard of him, monsieur? It's said his luck has changed I'm anxious tofind out. "

Quickly he led the way up the handsome staircase and into a large, lofty, richly furnished room. Everywhere there were thick, heavy carpetson the floors, into which your feet sank with an air of satisfyingluxury. 

The room into which we entered was indeed absolutely windowless. It wasa room built within the original room of the old house. Thus the windowsoverlooking the street from the second floor in reality bore no relationto it. For light it depended on a complete oval of lights overheadso arranged as to be themselves invisible, but shining through richlystained glass and conveying the illusion of a slightly clouded noonday. The absence of windows was made up for, as I learned later, by aventilating device so perfect that, although everyone was smoking, amost fastidious person could scarcely have been offended by the odour oftobacco. 

Of course I did not notice all this at first. What I did notice, however, was a faro-layout and a hazard-board, but as no one was playingat either, my eye quickly travelled to a roulette-table which stretchedalong the middle of the room. Some ten or a dozen men in evening clotheswere gathered watching with intent faces the spinning wheel. Therewas no money on the table, nothing but piles of chips of variousdenominations. Another thing that surprised me as I looked was that thetense look on the faces of the players was anything but the feverish, haggard gaze I had expected. In fact, they were sleek, well-fed, typicalprosperous New-Yorkers rather inclined to the noticeable in dress andcarrying their avoirdupois as if life was an easy game with them. Mostof them evidently belonged to the financial and society classes. Therewere no tragedies; the tragedies were elsewhere--in their offices, homes, in the courts, anywhere, but not here at the club. Here all waslife, light, and laughter. 

For the benefit of those not acquainted with the roulette-wheel--and Imay as well confess that most of my own knowledge was gained in that onecrowded evening--I may say that it consists, briefly, of a wooden discvery nicely balanced and turning in the centre of a cavity set intoa table like a circular wash-basin, with an outer rim turned slightlyinward. The "croupier" revolves the wheel to the right. With a quickmotion of his middle finger he flicks a marble, usually of ivory, to theleft. At the Vesper Club, always up-to-date, the ball was of platinum, not of ivory. The disc with its sloping sides is provided with a numberof brass rods, some perpendicular, some horizontal. As the ball and thewheel lose momentum the ball strikes against the rods and finally isdeflected into one of the many little pockets or stalls facing the rimof the wheel. 

There are thirty-eight of these pockets; two are marked "0" and "00, "the others numbered from one to thirty-six in an irregular and confusingorder and painted alternately red and black. At each end of the tableare thirty-six large squares correspondingly numbered and coloured. The"0" and "00" are of a neutral colour. Whenever the ball falls in the "0"or "00" the bank takes the stakes, or sweeps the the board. The MonteCarlo wheel has only one "0, " while the typical American has two, andthe Chinese has four. 

To one like myself who had read of the Continental gambling-houses withthe clink of gold pieces on the table, and the croupier with his woodenrake noisily raking in the winnings of the bank, the comparative silenceof the American game comes as a surprise. 

As we advanced, we heard only the rattle of the ball, the click of thechips, and the monotonous tone of the spinner: "Twenty-three, black. Eight, red. Seventeen, black. " It was almost like the boys in a broker'soffice calling off the quotations of the ticker and marking them up onthe board. 

Leaning forward, almost oblivious to the rest, was Percival DeLong, atall, lithe, handsome young man, whose boyish face ill comported withthe marks of dissipation clearly outlined on it. Such a boy, it flashedacross my mind, ought to be studying the possible plays of football ofan evening in the field-house after his dinner at the training-table, rather than the possible gyrations of the little platinum ball on thewheel. 

"Curse the luck!" he exclaimed, as "17" appeared again. 

A Hebrew banker staked a pile of chips on the "17" to come up a thirdtime. A murmur of applause at his nerve ran through the circle. DeLonghesitated, as one who thought, "Seventeen has come out twice--the oddsagainst its coming again are too great, even though the winnings wouldbe fabulous, for a good stake. " He placed his next bet on anothernumber. 

"He's playing Lord Rosslyn's system, to-night, " whispered my friend. 

The wheel spun, the ball rolled, and the croupier called again, "Seventeen, black. " A tremor of excitement ran through the crowd. It wasalmost unprecedented. 

DeLong, with a stifled oath, leaned back and scanned the faces about thetable. 

"And '17' has precisely the same chance of turning up in the next spinas if it had not already had a run of three, " said a voice at my elbow. 

It was Kennedy. The roulette-table needs no introduction when curioussequences are afoot. All are friends. 

"That's the theory of Sir Hiram Maxim;" commented my friend, as heexcused himself reluctantly for another appointment. "But no truegambler will believe it, monsieur, or at least act on it. "

All eyes were turned on Kennedy, who made a gesture of politedeprecation, as if the remark of my friend were true, but henonchalantly placed his chips on the "17. "

"The odds against '17' appearing four consecutive times are somemillions, " he went on, "and yet, having appeared three times, it is justas likely to appear again as before. It is the usual practice to avoid anumber that has had a run, on the theory that some other number is morelikely to come up than it is. That would be the case if it were drawingballs from a bag full of red and black balls--the more red ones drawnthe smaller the chance of drawing another red one. But if the balls areput back in the bag after being drawn the chances of drawing a red oneafter three have been drawn are exactly the same as ever. If we tossa cent and heads appear twelve times, that does not have the slightesteffect on the thirteenth toss--there is still an even chance that it, too, will be heads. So if '17' had come up five times to-night, it wouldbe just as likely to come the sixth as if the previous five had notoccurred, and that despite the fact that before it has appeared at allodds against a run of the same number six times in succession are abouttwo billion, four hundred and ninety-six million, and some thousands. Most systems are based on the old persistent belief that occurrences ofchance are affected in some way by occurrences immediately preceding, but disconnected physically. If we've had a run of black for twentytimes, system says play the red for the twenty-first. But black is justas likely to turn up the twenty-first as if it were the first play ofall. The confusion arises because a run of twenty on the black shouldhappen once in one million, forty-eight thousand, five hundred andseventy-six coups. It would take ten years to make that many coups, andthe run of twenty might occur once or any number of times in it. It isonly when one deals with infinitely large numbers of coups that one cancount on infinitely small variations in the mathematical results. Thisgame does not go on for infinity--therefore anything, everything, mayhappen. Systems are based on the infinite; we play in the finite. "

"You talk like a professor I had at the university, " ejaculated DeLongcontemptuously as Craig finished his disquisition on the practicalfallibility of theoretically infallible systems. Again DeLong carefullyavoided the "17, " as well as the black. 

The wheel spun again; the ball rolled. The knot of spectators around thetable watched with bated breath. 

Seventeen won!

As Kennedy piled up his winnings superciliously, without even theappearance of triumph, a man behind me whispered, "A foreign noblemanwith a system--watch him. "

"Non, monsieur, " said Kennedy quickly, having overheard the remark, "nosystem, sir. There is only one system of which I know. "

"What?" asked DeLong eagerly. 

Kennedy staked a large sum on the red to win. The black came up, andhe lost. He doubled the stake and played again, and again lost. Withamazing calmness Craig kept right on doubling. 

"The martingale, " I heard the man whisper behind me. "In other words, double or quit. "

Kennedy was now in for some hundreds, a sum that was sufficiently largefor him, but he doubled again, still cheerfully playing the red, and thered won. As he gathered up his chips he rose. 

"That's the only system, " he said simply. 

"But, go on, go on, " came the chorus from about the table. 

"No, " said Kennedy quietly, "that is part of the system, too--to quitwhen you have won back your stakes and a little more. "

"Huh!" exclaimed DeLong in disgust. "Suppose you were in for somethousands--you wouldn't quit. If you had real sporting blood youwouldn't quit, anyhow!"

Kennedy calmly passed over the open insult, letting it be understoodthat he ignored this beardless youth. 

"There is no way you can beat the game in the long run if you keep atit, " he answered simply. "It is mathematically impossible. Consider. Weare Croesuses--we hire players to stake money for us on every possiblenumber at every coup. How do we come out? If there are no '0' or '00, 'we come out after each coup precisely where we started--we are payingour own money back and forth among ourselves; we have neither morenor less. But with the '0' and '00' the bank sweeps the board every sooften. It is only a question of time when, after paying our money backand forth among ourselves, it has all filtered through the '0' and '00'into the bank. It is not a game of chance for the bank--ah, it is exact, mathematical--c'est une question d' arithmetique, seulement, nest-cepas, messieurs?"

"Perhaps, " admitted DeLong, "but it doesn't explain why I am losingto-night while everyone else is winning. "

"We are not winning, " persisted Craig. "After I have had a bite to eat Iwill demonstrate how to lose--by keeping on playing. " He led the way tothe cafe. 

DeLong was too intent on the game to leave, even for refreshments. Nowand then I saw him beckon to an attendant, who brought him a stiff drinkof whiskey. For a moment his play seemed a little better, then hewould drop back into his hopeless losing. For some reason or other his"system" failed absolutely. 

"You see, he is hopeless, " mused Kennedy over our light repast. "Andyet of all gambling games roulette offers the player the best odds, farbetter than horse-racing, for instance. Our method has usually been tooutlaw roulette and permit horse racing; in other words, suppress themore favourable and permit the less favourable. However, we're doingbetter now; we're suppressing both. Of course what I say applies only toroulette when it is honestly played--DeLong would lose anyhow, I fear. "

I started at Kennedy's tone and whispered hastily: "What do you mean? Doyou think the wheel is crooked?"

"I haven't a doubt of it, " he replied in an undertone. "That run of '17'might happen--yes. But it is improbable. They let me win because I wasa new player--new players always win at first. It is proverbial, butthe man who is running this game has made it look like a platitude. Tosatisfy myself on that point I am going to play again--until I have lostmy winnings and am just square with the game. When I reach the pointthat I am convinced that some crooked work is going on I am going to trya little experiment, Walter. I want you to stand close to me so that noone can see what I am doing. Do just as I will indicate to you. "

The gambling-room was now fast filling up with the first of the theatrecrowd. DeLong's table was the centre of attraction, owing to the highplay. A group of young men of his set were commiserating with him on hisluck and discussing it with the finished air of roues of double theirages. He was doggedly following his system. 

Kennedy and I approached. 

"Ah, here is the philosophical stranger again;" DeLong exclaimed, catching sight of Kennedy. "Perhaps he can enlighten us on how to win atroulette by playing his own system. "

"Au contrarie, monsieur, let me demonstrate how to lose, " answered Craigwith a smile that showed a row of faultless teeth beneath his blackmoustache, decidedly foreign. 

Kennedy played and lost, and lost again; then he won, but in the main helost. After one particularly large loss I felt his arm on mine, drawingme closely to him. DeLong had taken a sort of grim pleasure in the factthat Kennedy, too, was losing. I found that Craig had paused in his playat a moment when DeLong had staked a large sum that a number below "18"would turn up--for five plays the numbers had been between "18" and"36. " Curious to see what Craig was doing, I looked cautiously downbetween us. All eyes were fixed on the wheel. Kennedy was holding anordinary compass in the crooked-up palm of his hand. The needle pointedat me, as I happened to be standing north of it. 

The wheel spun. Suddenly the needle swung around to a point betweenthe north and south poles, quivered a moment, and came to rest in thatposition. Then it swung back to the north. 

It was some seconds before I realised the significance of it. It hadpointed at the table--and DeLong had lost again. There was some electricattachment at work. 

Kennedy and I exchanged glances, and he shoved the compass into my handquickly. "You watch it, Walter, while I play, " he whispered. 

Carefully concealing it, as he had done, yet holding it as close to thetable as I dared I tried to follow two things at once without betrayingmyself. As near as I could make out, something happened at every play. Iwould not go so far as to assert that whenever the larger stakes were ona certain number the needle pointed to the opposite side of the wheel, for it was impossible to be at all accurate about it. Once I noticed theneedle did not move at all, and he won. But at the next play he stakedwhat I knew must be the remainder of his winnings on what seemed avery good chance. Even before the wheel was revolved and the ball setrolling, the needle swung about, and when the platinum ball came to restKennedy rose from the table, a loser. 

"By George though, " exclaimed DeLong, grasping his hand. "I take it allback. You are a good loser, sir. I wish I could take it as well as youdo. But then, I'm in too deeply. There are too many 'markers' with thehouse up against me. "

Senator Danfield had just come in to see how things were going. He wasa sleek, fat man, and it was amazing to see with what deference hisvictims treated him. He affected not to have heard what DeLong said, butI could imagine what he was thinking, for I had heard that he had scantsympathy with anyone after he "went broke"--another evidence of thecamaraderie and good-fellowship that surrounded the game. 

Kennedy's next remark surprised me. "Oh, your luck will change, D. L. , "--everyone referred to him as "D. L. , " for gambling-houses have anaversion for real names and greatly prefer initials--"your luck willchange presently. Keep right on with your system. It's the best you cando to-night, short of quitting. "

"I'll never quit, " replied the young man under his breath. 

Meanwhile Kennedy and I paused on the way out to compare notes. Myreport of the behaviour of the compass only confirmed him in hisopinion. 

As we turned to the stairs we took in a full view of the room. Afaro-layout was purchasing Senator Danfield a new touring-car everyhour at the expense of the players. Another group was gathered about thehazard board, deriving evident excitement, though I am sure none couldhave given an intelligent account of the chances they were taking. Tworoulette-tables were now going full blast, the larger crowd still aboutDeLong's. Snatches of conversation came to us now and then, and I caughtone sentence, "De Long's in for over a hundred thousand now on theweek's play, I understand; poor boy--that about cleans him up. "

"The tragedy of it, Craig, " I whispered, but he did not hear. 

With his hat tilted at a rakish angle and his opera-coat over his arm hesauntered over for a last look. 

"Any luck yet?" he asked carelessly. 

"The devil--no, " returned the boy. 

"Do you know what my advice to you is, the advice of a man who has seenhigh play everywhere from Monte Carlo to Shanghai?"

"What?"

"Play until your luck changes if it takes until to-morrow. "

A supercilious smile crossed Senator Danfield's fat face. 

"I intend to, " and the haggard young face turned again to the table andforgot us. 

"For Heaven's sake, Kennedy, " I gasped as we went down the stairway, "what do you mean by giving him such advice--you?"

"Not so loud, Walter. He'd have done it anyhow, I suppose, but I wanthim to keep at it. This night means life or death to Percival DeLong andhis mother, too. Come on, let's get out of this. "

We passed the formidable steel door and gained the street, jostled bythe late-comers who had left the after-theatre restaurants for a fewmoments of play at the famous club that so long had defied the police. 

Almost gaily Kennedy swung along toward Broadway. At the corner hehesitated, glanced up and down, caught sight of the furniture-van in themiddle of the next block. The driver was tugging at the harness of thehorses, apparently fixing it. We walked along and stopped beside it. 

"Drive around in front of the Vesper Club slowly, " said Kennedy as thedriver at last looked up. 

The van lumbered ahead, and we followed it casually. Around the cornerit turned. We turned also. My heart was going like a sledgehammer as thecritical moment approached. My head was in a whirl. What would that gaythrong back of those darkened windows down the street think if they knewwhat was being prepared for them?

On, like the Trojan horse, the van lumbered. A man went into the VesperClub, and I saw the negro at the door eye the oncoming van suspiciously. The door banged shut. 

The next thing I knew, Kennedy had ripped off his disguise, had flunghimself up behind the van, and had swung the doors open. A dozen menwith ages and sledge-hammers swarmed out and up the steps of the club. 

"Call the reserves, O'Connor, " cried Kennedy. "Watch the roof and theback yard. "

The driver of the van hastened to send in the call. 

The sharp raps of the hammers and the axes sounded on the thickbrass-bound oak of the outside door in quick succession. There was ascurry of feet inside, and we could hear a grating noise and a terrificjar as the inner, steel door shut. 

"A raid! A raid on the Vesper Club!" shouted a belated passer-by. The crowd swarmed around from Broadway, as if it were noon instead ofmidnight. 

Banging and ripping and tearing, the outer door was slowly forced. Asit crashed in, the quick gongs of several police patrols sounded. Thereserves had been called out at the proper moment, too late for themto "tip off" the club that there was going to be a raid, as frequentlyoccurs. 

Disregarding the melee behind me, I leaped through the wreckage with theother raiders. The steel door barred all further progress with itscold blue impassibility. How were we to surmount this last and mostformidable barrier?

I turned in time to see Kennedy and O'Connor hurrying up the stepswith a huge tank studded with bolts like a boiler, while two other mencarried a second tank. 

"There, " ordered Craig, "set the oxygen there, " as he placed his owntank on the opposite side:

Out of the tanks stout tubes led, with stopcocks and gages at the top. From a case under his arm Kennedy produced a curious arrangement like ahuge hook, with a curved neck and a sharp beak. Really it consisted oftwo metal tubes which ran into a sort of cylinder, or mixing chamber, above the nozzle, while parallel to them ran a third separate tube witha second nozzle of its own. Quickly he joined the ends of the tubes fromthe tanks to the metal hook, the oxygen-tank being joined to two of thetubes of the hook, and the second tank being joined to the other. Witha match he touched the nozzle gingerly. Instantly a hissing, spittingnoise followed, and an intense blinding needle of flame. 

"Now for the oxy-acetylene blowpipe, " cried Kennedy as he advancedtoward the steel door. "We'll make short work of this. "

Almost as he said it, the steel beneath the blowpipe becameincandescent. 

Just to test it, he cut off the head of a three-quarter-inch steelrivet--taking about a quarter of a minute to do it. It was evident, though, that that would not weaken the door appreciably, even if therivets were all driven through. Still they gave a starting-point for theflame of the high-pressure acetylene torch. 

It was a brilliant sight. The terrific heat from the first nozzle causedthe metal to glow under the torch as if in an open-hearth furnace. Fromthe second nozzle issued a stream of oxygen under which the hot metalof the door was completely consumed. The force of the blast as thecompressed oxygen and acetylene were expelled carried a fine spray ofthe disintegrated metal visibly before it. And yet it was not a big holethat it made--scarcely an eighth of an inch wide, but clear and sharpas if a buzz-saw were eating its way through a three-inch plank of whitepine. 

With tense muscles Kennedy held this terrific engine of destructionand moved it as easily as if it had been a mere pencil of light. He waseasily the calmest of us all as we crowded about him at a respectfuldistance. 

"Acetylene, as you may know, " he hastily explained, never pausing for amoment in his work, "is composed of carbon and hydrogen. As it burns atthe end of the nozzle it is broken into carbon and hydrogen--the carbongives the high temperature, and the hydrogen forms a cone that protectsthe end of the blowpipe from being itself burnt up. "

"But isn't it dangerous?" I asked, amazed at the skill with which hehandled the blowpipe. 

"Not particularly--when you know how to do it. In that tank is a porousasbestos packing saturated with acetone, under pressure. Thus I cancarry acetylene safely, for it is dissolved, and the possibility ofexplosion is minimised. This mixing chamber by which I am holding thetorch, where the oxygen and acetylene mix, is also designed in sucha way as to prevent a flash-back. The best thing about this style ofblowpipe is the ease with which it can be transported and the curioususes--like the present--to which it can be put. "

He paused a moment to test the door. All was silence on the other side. The door itself was as firm as ever. 

"Huh!" exclaimed one of the detectives behind me, "these new-fangledthings ain't all they're cracked up to be. Now if I was runnin' thisshow, I'd dynamite that door to kingdom come. "

"And wreck the house and kill a few people, " I returned, hotly resentingthe criticism of Kennedy. Kennedy affected not to hear. 

"When I shut off the oxygen in this second jet, " he resumed as ifnothing had been said, "you see the torch merely heats the steel. I canget a heat of approximately sixty-three hundred degrees Fahrenheit, andthe flame will exert a pressure of fifty pounds to the square inch. "

"Wonderful!" exclaimed O'Connor, who had not heard the remark of hissubordinate and was watching with undisguised admiration. "Kennedy, howdid you ever think of such a thing?"

"Why, it's used for welding, you know, " answered Craig as he continuedto work calmly in the growing excitement: "I first saw it in actualuse in mending a cracked cylinder in an automobile. The cylinder wasrepaired without being taken out at all. I've seen it weld new teeth andbuild up old worn teeth on gearing, as good as new. "

He paused to let us see the terrifically heated metal under the flame. 

"You remember when we were talking on the drive about the raid, O'Connor? A car-load of scrap-iron went by on the railroad below us. They use this blowpipe to cut it up, frequently. That's what gave me theidea. See. I turn on the oxygen now in this second nozzle. The blowpipeis no longer an instrument for joining metals together, but forcutting them asunder. The steel burns just as you, perhaps, have seena watch-spring burn in a jar of oxygen. Steel, hard or soft, tempered, annealed, chrome, or Harveyised, it all burns just as fast and just aseasily. And it's cheap too. This raid may cost a couple of dollars, asfar as the blowpipe is concerned--quite a difference from the thousandsof dollars' loss that would follow an attempt to blow the door in. "

The last remark was directed quietly at the doubting detective. He hadnothing to say. We stood in awe-struck amazement as the torch slowly, inexorably, traced a thin line along the edge of the door. 

Minute after minute sped by, as the line burned by the blowpipe cutstraight from top to bottom. It seemed hours to me. Was Kennedy going toslit the whole door and let it fall in with a crash?

No, I could see that even in his cursory examination of the door he hadgained a pretty good knowledge of the location of the bolts imbedded inthe steel. One after another he was cutting clear through and severingthem, as if with a superhuman knife. 

What was going on on the other side of the door, I wondered. I couldscarcely imagine the consternation of the gamblers caught in their owntrap. 

With a quick motion Kennedy turned off the acetylene and oxygen. Thelast bolt had been severed. A gentle push of the hand, and he swung theonce impregnable door on its delicately poised hinges as easily as if hehad merely said, "Open Sesame. " The robbers' cave yawned before us. 

We made a rush up the stairs. Kennedy was first, O'Connor next, andmyself scarcely a step behind, with the rest of O'Connor's men at ourheels. 

I think we were all prepared for some sort of gun-play, for the crookswere desperate characters, and I myself was surprised to encounternothing but physical force, which was quickly, overcome. 

In the now disordered richness of the rooms, waving his "John Doe"warrants in one hand and his pistol in the other, O'Connor shouted"you're all under arrest, gentlemen. If you resist further it will gohard with you. "

Crowded now in one end of the room in speechless amazement was the lategay party of gamblers, including Senator Danfield himself. They hadreckoned on toying with any chance but this. The pale white face ofDeLong among them was like a spectre, as he stood staring blankly aboutand still insanely twisting the roulette wheel before him. 

Kennedy advanced toward the table with an ax which he had seized fromone of our men. A well-directed blow shattered the mechanism of thedelicate wheel. 

"DeLong, " he said, "I'm not going to talk to you like your old professorat the university, nor like your recent friend, the Frenchman with asystem. This is what you have been up against, my boy. Look. "

His forefinger indicated an ingenious, but now tangled and twisted, series of minute wires and electro-magnets in the broken wheel beforeus. Delicate brushes led the current into the wheel. With another blowof his axe, Craig disclosed wires running down through the leg of thetable to the floor and under the carpet to buttons operated by the manwho ran the game. 

"Wh--what does it mean?" asked DeLong blankly. 

"It means that you had little enough chance to win at a straight game ofroulette. But the wheel is very rarely straight, even with all theodds in favour of the bank, as they are. This game was electricallycontrolled. Others are mechanically controlled by what is sometimescalled the 'mule's ear, ' and other devices. You can't win. These wiresand magnets can be made to attract the little ball into any pocketthe operator desires. Each one of those pockets contains a littleelectro-magnet. One set of magnets in the red pockets is connected withone button under the carpet and a battery. The other set in the blackpockets is connected with another button and the battery. This ball isnot really of platinum. Platinum is nonmagnetic. It is simply a softiron hollow ball, plated with platinum. Whichever set of electro-magnetsis energised attracts the ball and by this simple method it is in thepower of the operator to let the ball go to red or black as he maywish. Other similar arrangements control the odd or even, and othercombinations from other push buttons. A special arrangement took careof that '17' freak. There isn't an honest gambling-machine in the wholeplace--I might almost say the whole city. The whole thing is crookedfrom start to finish--the men, the machines, the--"

"That machine could be made to beat me by turning up a run of '17' anynumber of times, or red or black, or odd or even, over '18' or under'18, ' or anything?"

"Anything, DeLong. "

"And I never had a chance, " he repeated, meditatively fingering thewires. "They broke me to-night. Danfield"--DeLong turned, lookingdazedly about in the crowd for his former friend, then his handshot into his pocket, and a little ivory-handled pistol flashedout--"Danfield, your blood is on your own head. You have ruined me. "

Kennedy must have been expecting something of the sort, for he seizedthe arm of the young man, weakened by dissipation, and turned the pistolupward as if it had been in the grasp of a mere child. 

A blinding flash followed in the farthest corner of the room and a hugepuff of smoke. Before I could collect my wits another followed in theopposite corner. The room was filled with a dense smoke. 

Two men were scuffing at my feet. One was Kennedy. As I dropped downquickly to help him I saw that the other was Danfield, his face purplewith the violence of the struggle. 

"Don't be alarmed, gentlemen, " I heard O'Connor shout, "the explosionswere only the flashlights of the official police photographers. We nowhave the evidence complete. Gentlemen, you will now go down quietly tothe patrol-wagons below, two by two. If you have anything to say, say itto the magistrate of the night court. "

"Hold his arms, Walter, " panted Kennedy. 

I did. With a dexterity that would have done credit to a pickpocket, Kennedy reached into Danfield's pocket and pulled out some papers. 

Before the smoke had cleared and order had been restored, Craigexclaimed: "Let him up, Walter. Here, DeLong, here are the I. O. U. 'sagainst you. Tear them up--they are not even a debt of honour. "