THE VOICE ON THE WIRE

By Eustace Hale Ball

CHAPTER I. WHEN THREE IS A MYSTERY

"Mr. Shirley is waiting for you in the grill-room, sir. Just step thisway, sir, and down the stairs. "

The large man awkwardly followed the servant to the cosey grill-room onthe lower floor of the club house. He felt that every man of the littlegroups about the Flemish tables must be saying: "What's he doing here?"

"I wish Monty Shirley would meet me once in a while in the back room ofa ginmill, where I'd feel comfortable, " muttered the unhappy visitor. "This joint is too classy. But that's his game to play--"

He reached the sought-for one, however, and exclaimed eagerly: "ByJiminy, Monty. I'm glad to find you--it would have been my luck afterthis day, to get here too late. "

He was greeted with a grip that made even his generous hand wince, asthe other arose to smile a welcome. 

"Hello, Captain Cronin. You're a good sight for a grouchy man's eyes!Sit down and confide the brand of your particular favorite poison to ourJapanese Dionysius!"

The Captain sighed with relief, as he obeyed. 

"Bar whiskey is good enough for an old timer like me. Don't tell me youhave the blues--your face isn't built that way!"

"Gospel truth, Captain. I've been loafing around this club--nothing todo for a month. Bridge, handball, highballs, and yarns! I'm actually anervous wreck because my nerves haven't had any work to do!"

"You're the healthiest invalid I've seen since the hospital days in theCivil War. But don't worry about something to do. I've some job now. It's dolled up with all them frills you like: millions, murders andmysteries! If this don't keep you awake, you'll have nightmares for thenext six months. Do you want it?"

"I'm tickled to death. Spill it!"

"Monty, it's the greatest case my detective agency has had since I leftthe police force eleven years ago. It's too big for me, and I've cometo you to do a stunt as is a stunt. You will plug it for me, won'tyou--just as you've always done? If I get the credit, it'll mean afortune to me in the advertising alone. "

"Haven't I handled every case for you in confidence. I'm not a fly-cop, Captain Cronin. I'm a consulting specialist, and there's no shingle hungout. Perhaps you had better take it to some one else. "

Shirley pushed away his empty glass impatiently. 

"There, Monty, I didn't mean to offend you. But there's such swellsin this and such a foxey bunch of blacklegs, that I'm as nervous as arookie cop on his first arrest. Don't hold a grudge against me. "

Shirley lit a cigarette and resumed his good nature: "Go on, Captain. I'm so stale with dolce far niente, after the Black Pearl affair lastmonth, that I act like an amateur myself. Make it short, though, for I'mgoing to the opera. "

The Captain leaned over the table, his face tense with suppressedemotion. He was a grizzled veteran of the New York police force: a manwho sought his quarry with the ferocity of a bull-dog, when the lineof search was definitely assured. Lacking imagination and the subtlersenses of criminology, Captain Cronin had built up a reputation forsuccess and honesty in every assignment by bravery, persistence, andas in this case, the ability to cover his own deductive weakness byemploying the brains of others. 

Montague Shirley was as antithetical from the veteran detective as a mancould well be. A noted athlete in his university, he possessed a societyrating in New York, at Newport and Tuxedo, and on the Continent whichwas the envy of many a gilded youth born to the purple. 

On leaving college, despite an ample patrimony, he had curiously enoughentered the lists as a newspaper man. From the sporting page he wasgraduated to police news, then the city desk, at last closing his careeras the genius who invented the weekly Sunday thriller, in many colorsof illustration and vivacious Gallic style which interpreted into heartthrobs and goose-flesh the real life romances and tragedies of thepreceding six days! He had conquered the paper-and-ink world--then deepwithin there stirred the call for participation in the game itself. 

So, dropping quietly into the apparently indolent routine of clubexistence, he had devoted his experience and genius to analyticalcriminology--a line of endeavor known only to five men in the world. 

He maintained no offices. He wore no glittering badges: a police card, a fire badge, and a revolver license, renewed year after year, were theonly instruments of his trade ever in evidence. Shirley took assignmentsonly from the heads of certain agencies, by personal arrangement asinformal as this from Captain Cronin. His real clients never knew of hisparticipation, and his prey never understood that he had been the realhead-hunter!

His fees--Montague Shirley, as a master craftsman deemed his artistryworthy of the hire. His every case meant a modest fortune to thedetective agency and Shirley's bills were never rendered, but alwayspaid!

So, here, the hero of the gridiron and the class re-union, the gallantof a hundred pre-matrimonial and non-maturing engagements, the veteranof a thousand drolleries and merry jousts in clubdom--unspoiled bybirth, breeding and wealth, untrammeled by the juggernaut of pot-boilingand the salary-grind, had drifted into the curious profession ofconfidential, consulting criminal chaser. 

Shirley unostentatiously signaled for an encore on the refreshments. 

"You're nervous to-night, Captain. You've been doing things before youconsulted me--which is against our Rule Number One, isn't it?"

The Captain gulped down his whiskey, and rubbed his forehead. 

"Couldn't help it, Monty. It got too busy for me, before I realizedanything unusual in the case. See what I got from a gangster before Ilanded here. "

He turned his close-cropped head, as Montague Shirley leaned forwardto observe an abrasion at the base of his skull. It was dressed with acoating of collodion. 

"Brass knuckled--I see the mark of the rings. Tried for thepneumogastric nerves, to quiet you. "

"Whatever he tried for he nearly got. Kelly's nightstick got hispneumonia gas jet, or whatever you call it. He's still quiet, in thestation house--You know old man Van Cleft, who owns sky-scrapersdown town, don't you?--Well, he's the center of this flying wedge ofexcitement. His family are fine people, I understand. His daughter wasto be married next week. Monty, that wedding'll be postponed, and oldVan Cleft won't worry over dispossess papers for his tenants for therest of the winter. See?"

"Killed?"

"Correct. He's done, and I had a hell of a time getting the body home, before the coroner and the police reporters got on the trail. "

Shirley lowered his high-ball glass, with an earnest stare. 

"What was the idea?"

"Robbery, of course. His son had me on the case--'phoned from thegarage where the chauffeur brought the body; after he saw the old manunconscious. Just half an hour before he had left his office in the samemachine, after taking five thousand dollars in cash from his manager. "

"Who was with him?"

"Now, that's getting to brass tacks. When I gets that C. Q. D. FromVan Cleft, I finds the young fellow inside the ring of rubbernecks, blubbering over the old man, where he lies on the floor of thetaxi--looking soused. "

"He was a notorious old sport about town, Captain. "

"Sure--and I thinks, it sorter serves him right. But, that's hisfuneral, not mine. Van Cleft, junior, says to me: 'There's the girl thatwas with him. '"

"Where was the girl?"

"She was sitting on a stool, near the car, a little blonde choruschicken, shaking and twitching, while the chauffeur and the garage bossheld her up. I says, 'What's this?' and Van Cleft tells me all he knows, which ain't nothing. Them guys in that garage was wise, for it meant acold five hundred apiece before I left to keep their lids closed. VanCleft begs me to hustle the old man home, so one of my men takes herdown to my office, still a sniffling, and acting like she had theD. T. 's. The young fellow shook like a leaf, but we takes him over toCentral Park East, to the family mansion, --carrying him up the stepslike he was drunk. We gets him into his own bed, and keeps the sisterfrom touching his clammy hands, while she orders the family doctor. Whenhe gets there on the jump, I gives him the wink and leads him to oneside. 'Doc, ' I says, 'you know how to write out a death certificate, tohush this up from your end. I've done the rest. '"

Captain Cronin leaned forward, a queer excitement agitating him. 

"Do you know what that doctor says to me, Monty?"

Shirley shook his head. 

He says; "My God, it's the third!"

Shirley's white hand gripped the edge of the table. "The Van Cleft'sdoctor is one of the greatest surgeons in the country, ProfessorMacDonald of the Medical College. He said that?"

"He did. I answers, 'Whadd'y mean the third?' Then he looks me straightin the eye, and sings back, 'None of your business. '" Cronin shookhis head. "I never seen a man with a squarer look, and yet he has meguessing. I goes back to the garage, over past Eighth Avenue, you know, where two johns come up along side o' me. One rubs me with his elbowand the other applies that brass knuckle, --then they gets pinched. I gotdressed up in a drug store, got the chauffeur's license number, and goeson down to my office to see this girl. She's hysterical about his familyusing all their money to put her in jail. I looks at her, and says, 'Youwon't need their money to get to jail. That old man's dead!' Her eyeswas as big as saucers. 'I thought old Daddy Van Cleft was drunk. ' Itells her, 'He was dead in that taxi, with a chorus girl, and a roll ofbills gone. What you got to say?' She staggers forward and clutches mycoat, and what do you think SHE says to me?"

Shirley made the inquiry only with his eyes, puffing his cigaretteslowly. 

"She looks sorter green, and repeats after me: 'Dead, with a chorusgirl, and a roll of bills gone, '--just like a parrot. Then she springsthis on me: 'My God, it's the third!'"

Shirley dropped his cigarette, leaning forward, all nonchalance gone. 

"Where is she now? Quick, let's go to her. "

He rose to his feet. Just then a door-boy walked through the grill-roomtoward him. "A telephone call for Captain Cronin, sir; the party saidhurry or he would miss something good. "

Shirley snapped out, "When has the rule about telephone calls in thisclub been changed? You boys are never to tell any one that a member orguest are here until the name is announced. "

He turned toward the puzzled Captain. 

"Did you ask any of your operatives to call you here? You know what arisk you are taking, to connect me with this case like that, don't you?"

"I never even breathed it to myself. I told no one. "

"Follow me up to the telephone room. "

Shirley hurried through the grill, to the switchboard, near which stoodthe booths for private calls. He called to one of the operators. "Here, let me at that switchboard. " He pushed the boy aside, and sat down inthe vacated chair. 

"Which trunk is it on? Oh, I see, the second. There Captain, take thefourth booth against the wall. "

Cronin stepped in. Shirley connected up and listened with thetransmitter of the operator at his ear, holding the line open. 

"Go ahead, here's Captain Cronin!"

A pleasant voice came over the wire. It was musical and sincere. 

"Hello, Captain Cronin, is that you?"

"Yes! What do you want?"

The voice continued, with a jolly laugh, ringing and infectious in itsmerriment. 

"Well, Captain, the joke's on you. Ha, ha, ha! It's a bully one! Ho, ho!Ha, ha!"

"What joke?"

"You're working on the Van Cleft case. Oh, sure, you are, don't kid meback. Well, Captain, you've missed two other perfectly good grafts. Thisis the third one!"

There was a click and the speaker, with another merry gurgle, rang off. 

"Quick, manager's desk, " cried Shirley, jiggling the metal key. "Whatcall was that? Where did it come from?"

After a little wait, a languid voice answered: "Brooklyn, Main 6969, Party C. "

"Give me the number again--I want to speak on the wire. "

After another delay, the voice replied "The line has been discontinued. "

"I just had it! What is the name of the subscriber. Hurry, this is amatter of life and death. "

"It's against the rules to give any further information. But our recordshows that the house burned down about two weeks ago. No one else hasbeen given the number. There's no instrument there!"

CHAPTER II. THE FLEETING PROMPTER

Monty's puzzled smile was in no wise reciprocated by the Captain, whosered face evidenced a growing resentment. 

He began a tirade, but a wink from the club man warned him. Shirleyreplaced the receiver, and the regular attendant resumed his placeat the switchboard. The lad was curious at the unusual ability ofthe wealthy Mr. Shirley to handle the bewildering maze of telephoneattachments. Monty explained, as he turned to go upstairs. 

"Son, that was one of my smart friends trying to play a practical jokeon my guest. I fooled him. Don't let it happen again, until you send inthe party's name first. "

"Yes, sir, " meekly promised the boy. 

"Well, Captain Cronin, as the old paperback novels used to say at theend of the first instalment, 'The Plot thickens!' At first I thoughtthis case of stupid badger game--"

"You aren't going to back out, Monty? Here's a whole gang of crookswhich would give you some sport rounding up, and as for money--"

"Money is easy, from both sides of a criminal matter. What interests meis that ghostly telephone call from a house that burned down, and thecaller's knowledge of Number Three. I'm in this case, have no fear ofthat. "

Shirley led his guest to the coat room. 

"I'll get a taxicab, Monty. We'd better see that girl first and thenhave a look at the body. "

The Captain turned to the door, as the attendant helped Monty with hisovercoat. The waiter from the grill-room approached. "Excuse me, sir, but the gentleman dropped his handkerchief in his chair opposite you. "

"Thank you, Gordon, " he said, as he faced the servant for an instant. When he turned again, toward the front hall, the Captain had passed outof view through the front door. 

Shirley received a surprise when he reached the pavement on Forty-fourthStreet, for Captain Cronin was not in sight. Two club men descended thesteps of the neighboring house. Others strolled along toward the Avenue, but not a sign of a vehicle of any description could be seen, nor wasthere anything suspicious in view. Cronin had disappeared as effectuallyas though he had taken a passing Zeppelin!

"I'm glad this affair will not bore me, " murmured the criminologist, ashe evolved and promptly discarded a dozen vain theories to explain thedisappearance of his companion. 

Twenty minutes were wasted along the block, as he waited for some sightor sign. Then he decided to go on up to Van Cleft's residence. But, realizing the probability of "shadow" work upon all who came from thedoor of the club, after the curious message on the wire, Shirley did notpropose to expose his hand. Walking leisurely to the Avenue, he haileda passing hansom. He directed the driver to carry him to an address onCentral Park West. His shrewdness was not wasted, for as he stepped intothe vehicle, he espied a slinking figure crossing the street diagonallybefore him, to disappear into the shadow of an adjacent doorway. Thiswas the house of Reginald Van Der Voor, as Shirley knew. It was closedbecause its master, a social acquaintance of the club man's, was at thistime touring the Orient in his steam yacht. No man should have enteredthat doorway. So, as the horse started under the flick of the long whip, Shirley peered unobserved through the glass window at his side. 

A big machine swung up behind the hansom, at some unseen hail, andthe figure came from the doorway, leaping into the car, as it followedShirley up the Avenue, a block or so behind. 

"It is not always so easy to follow, when the leader knows his chase, "thought Shirley. "I'm glad I'm only a simple club man. "

The automobile was unmistakably trailing him, as the hansom crossed thePlaza, then sped through the Park drive, to the address he had given hisdriver. 

As Shirley had remembered, this was a large apartment house, in whichone of his bachelor friends lived. He knew the lay of the building well:next door, with an entrance facing on the side street was another justlike it, and of equal height. 

"Wait for me, here, " said Shirley. "I'll pay you now, but want to go toan address down town in five minutes. "

He gave the driver a bill, then entered and told the elevator man totake him to the ninth floor. 

"There's nobody in, boss, " began the boy. But Shirley shook his head. 

"My friend is expecting me for a little card game, that's why you thinkhe is out. Just take me up. "

He handed the negro a quarter, which was complete in its logic. 

As he reached the floor, he waved to the elevator operator. "Go ondown, and don't let any one else come up, for Mr. Greenough doesn't wantcompany. "

As the car slid down, Shirley fumbled along the familiar hall to theiron stairs which led to the roof of the building. Up these he hurried, thence out upon the roof. It was a matter of only four minutes beforehe had crossed to the next apartment building, opened the door of theroof-entry, found the stairs to the ninth floor, and taken this elevatorto the street. 

He walked out of the building, and turned toward Central Park West, toslyly observe the entrance of the building where waited the faithfulhansom Jehu. A young man was in conversation with the driver, and thebig automobile could be seen on the other side of the street awaitingfurther developments. 

"He has a long vigil there, " laughed Shirley. "Now, for the realaddress. I think I lost the hounds for this time. "

Another vehicle took him through the Park to the darkened mansion ofthe Van Clefts'. Here, Shirley's card brought a quick response from thesurprised son of the dead millionaire. 

"Why--why--I'm glad to see you, Mr. Shirley--Who sent you?" he began. 

Shirley registered complete surprise. "Sent me, my dear Van Cleft? Whoshould send me? For what? It just happened that I was walking up theAvenue, and to-morrow night I plan to give a little farewell supperto Hal Bingley, class of '03, at the club You knew him in College? Ithought you might like to come. "

"Step in the library, " requested Van Cleft, weakly. "Sit down, Mr. Shirley--I'm upset to-night. "

He mopped his brow with a damp handkerchief, and Shirley's big heartwent out to the young chap, as he saw the haggard lines of horror andgrief on his usually pleasant face. 

"What's the trouble, old man? Anything I can do?"

"My father just died this evening, and I'm in awful trouble--I thoughtit was the Coroner, or the police--" he bit his tongue as the lastwords escaped him. Shirley put his hand on Van Cleft's shoulder, with aninspiring firmness. 

"Tell me how I can help. You've had a big shock. Confide in me, and Ipledge you my word, I'll keep it safer than any one you could go to. "

Van Cleft groped as a drowning man, at this opportunity. He caughtShirley's hand and wrung it tensely. 

"Sit down. The doctor is still upstairs with mother and sister. When theCoroner comes, I would like to have you be here as a witness. It's anordeal--I'll tell you everything. "

Shirley listened attentively, without betraying his own knowledge. Soothing in manner, he questioned the son about any possible enemy ofthe murdered man. 

"There's not one I know. Dad is popular--he's been too gay, lately, but just foolish like a lot of rich men. He wouldn't harm any one. Heinherited his money, you know. Didn't have to crush the working people. Like me, he's been endeavoring to spend it ever since he was born, butit comes in too fast from our estates. "

He looked up apprehensively, at the sympathetic face of his companion. 

"It's very unwise to tell this. I suppose it's a State's prison offenceto deceive about murder. But you understand our position: we can'tafford to let it become gossip. I'll pay this girl anything to go toEurope or the Antipodes!"

"I wouldn't do that, " suggested Shirley, thoughtfully. "Let her stay. You would like to bring the culprit to justice, if it can be donewithout dragging your name into it. If he has planned this, he hasexecuted other schemes. She certainly would not remain the machine ifshe were the guilty one. Why not employ a good detective?"

"I did, but hesitated to tell you. I secured Captain Cronin, of theHolland Agency. He's managed everything so far--I was too rattledmyself. But, I wonder why he isn't here now? He was to return as soon ashe visited the garage. "

As Van Cleft spoke, the butler approached with hesitation. 

"Beg pardon, sir. But you are wanted on the telephone, sir. "

"All right, Hoskins. Connect it with the library instrument. "

Van Cleft lifted the receiver nervously, and answered in an unsteadyvoice. 

"Yes--This is Van Cleft's residence. "

Silence for a bit, then the wire was busy. 

"What's that? Captain Cronin? What about him? Let me speak to him. "

Shirley was alert as a cat. Van Cleft was too dazed to understand hissudden move, as the criminologist caught up the receiver, and placed hispalm for an instant over the mouthpiece. 

"Ask him to say it again--that you didn't understand. " Shirley removedhis hand, and obeyed. Shirley held the receiver to his ear, as the youngman spoke. Then he heard these curious words: "You poor simp, you'dbetter get that family doctor of yours to give you some ear medicine, and stop wasting time with the death certificate. I told you that Croninwas over in Bellevue Hospital with a fractured skull. Unless you dropthis investigating, you'll get one, too. Ta, ta! Old top!"

The receiver was hung up quickly at the other end of the line. 

Shirley gave a quick call for "Information, " and after several minuteslearned that the call came from a drug store pay-station in Jersey City!

The melodious tones were unmistakably those of the speaker who had usedthe wire from faraway Brooklyn where the house had been burned down!It was a human impossibility for any one to have covered the distancebetween the two points in this brief time, except in an aeroplane!

Van Cleft wondered dumbly at his companion's excitement. Shirley caughtup the telephone again. 

"Some one says that Cronin is at Bellevue Hospital, injured. I'll findout. "

It was true. Captain Cronin was lying at point of death, the ward nursesaid, in answer to his eager query. At first the ambulance surgeon hadsupposed him to be drunk, for a patrolman had pulled him out of a darkdoorway, unconscious. 

"Where was the doorway? This is his son speaking, so tell me all. "

"Just a minute. Oh! Here is the report slip. He was taken from thecorner of Avenue A and East Eleventh Street. You'd better come downright away, for he is apt to die tonight. He's only been here tenminutes. "

"Has any one else telephoned to find out about him?"

"No. We didn't even know his name until just as you called up, when wefound his papers and some warrants in a pocketbook. How did you know?"

But Shirley disconnected curtly, this time. He bowed his head inthought, and then, with his usual nervous custom, fumbled for acigarette. Here was the Captain, whom he had left on Forty-fourthStreet, near Fifth Avenue, a short time before, discovered fully threemiles away. 

And the news telephoned from Jersey City, by the fleeting magic voiceon the wire. Even his iron composure was stirred by this weirdcomplication. 

"I wonder!" he murmured. He had ample reason to wonder. 

CHAPTER III. THE INNOCENT BYSTANDER

"Well, Mr. Shirley, your coming here was a Godsend! I don't know whatto do now. The newspapers will get this surely. I depended on Cronin: hemust have been drinking. "

Shirley shook his head, as he explained, "I know Cronin's reputation, for I was a police reporter. He is a sterling man. There's foul workhere which extends beyond your father's case. But we are wasting time. Why don't you introduce me to your physician? Just tell him aboutCronin, and that you have confided in me completely. "

Van Cleft went upstairs without a word. Unused to any worry, always ableto pay others for the execution of necessary details, this young man wasa victim of the system which had engulfed his unfortunate sire in themaelstrom of reckless pleasure. 

By his ingenuous adroitness, it may be seen, Shirley was inveiglinghimself into the heart of the affair, in his favorite disguise as thatof the "innocent bystander. " His innate dramatic ability assisted himin maintaining his friendly and almost impersonal role, with a successwhich had in the past kept the secret of his system from even theevildoers themselves. 

"A little investigation of the telephone exchanges during the next dayor two will not be wasted time, " he mused. "I'll get Sam Grindle, theirassistant advertising manager to show me the way the wheels go 'round. No man can ride a Magic Carpet of Bagdad over the skyscrapers in thesedays of shattered folklore. "

Howard Van Cleft returned with the famous surgeon, Professor MacDonald. He was elderly, with the broad high forehead, dignity of poise, andsharpness of glance which bespeaks the successful scientist. His face, to-night, was chalky and the firm, full mouth twitched with nervousness. He greeted Shirley abstractedly. The criminologist's manner was that offriendly anxiety. 

"You are here, sir, as a friend of the family?"

"Yes. Howard has told me of the terrible mystery of this case. As anex-newspaper man I imagine that my influence and friendships may keepthe unpleasant details from the press. "

"That is good, " sighed the doctor, with relief. "How soon will you doit?"

"Now, using this telephone. No, for certain reasons, I had better use anoutside instrument. I will call up men I know on each paper, as thoughthis were a 'scoop, ' so that knowing me, they will be confident thatI tell them the truth as a favor. Such deceit is excusable under thecircumstances. It may eventually bring the murderer to justice. "

Professor MacDonald winced at the word. He turned toward Van Cleft, onsudden thought, remarking: "Howard your mother and sister may need thecomfort of your presence. I will chat with your friend until the Coronercomes. "

The physician sank into a library chair. The criminologist quietlyawaited his cue. He lit a cigarette and the minutes drifted past with noword between them. The doctor's gaze lowered to the vellum-bound bookson the carven table, then to the gorgeous pattern of the Kermansha athis feet. Once more he studied the face of his companion, with the keen, soul-gripping scrutiny of the skilled physician. As last he arrived at adefinite conclusion. He cleared his throat, and fumbled in his waistcoatpocket for a cigar. A swiftly struck match in Monty's hand was heldup so promptly to the end of the cigar, that the doctor's lips had notclosed about it. This deftness, simple in itself, did not escape theobservation of the scientist. He smiled for the first time during theirinterview. 

"Your reflex nerves are very wide awake for a quiet man. I believe I candepend upon those nerves, and your quietude. May I ask what occupationyou follow, if any? Most of Howard's friends follow butterflies. "

"I am one of them, then. Some opera, more theatricals, much art gallerytouring. A little regular reading in my rooms, and there you are! Mygreat grandfather was too poor a trader to succeed in pelts, so heinvested a little money in rocky pastures around upper Manhattan: thishas kept the clerks of the family bankers busy ever since. I am anoptimistic vagabond, enjoying life in the observation of the ratherludicrous busyness of other folk. In short, Doctor, I am a corpulentHamlet, essentially modern in my cultivation of a joy in life, debatingthe eternal question with myself, but lazily leaving it to others tosolve. Therein I am true to my type. "

"Pardon my bluntness, " observed MacDonald, watching him throughpartially closed eyes. "You are not telling the truth. You are a busyman, with definite work, but that is no affair of mine. I recognize inyou a different calibre from that of these rich young idlers in Howard'sclass. I am going to take you into my confidence, for you understand theneed for secrecy, and will surely help in every way--noblesse oblige. This man Cronin, the detective, was rather crude. "

"He is honest and dependable, " replied Shirley, loyally. 

"Yes, but I wonder why professional detectives are so primitive. Theywear their calling cards and their business shingles on their figuresand faces. Surely the crooks must know them all personally. I readdetective stories, in rest moments, and every one of the sleuths livesin some well-known apartment, or on a prominent street. Some day wemay read of one who is truly in secret service, but not until after hisdeath notice. But there, I am talking to quiet my own nerves a bit, --nowwe will get to cases. "

The doctor dropped his cigar into the bronze tray on the table, leaningforward with intense earnestness, as he continued. 

"This, Mr. Shirley, is the third murder of the sort within a week. Wellington Serral, the wealthy broker, came to a sudden death in aprivate dining room last Monday, in the company of a young show girl. He was a patient of mine, and I signed the death certificate asheart failure, to save the honorable family name for his two orphaneddaughters. 

"Herbert de Cleyster, the railroad magnate, died similarly in a taxicabon Thursday. He was also one of my patients. There, too, was concernedanother of these wretched chorus girls. To-night the fatal number of thetriad was consummated in this cycle of crime. To maintain my loyaltyto my patients I have risked my professional reputation. Have I donewrong?"

"No! The criminal shall be brought to justice, " replied Shirley in avoice vibrant with a profound determination which was not lost upon hiscompanion. 

"Are you powerful enough to bring this about, without disgracing meor betraying this sordid tragedy to the morbid scandal-rakers of thepapers?"

"I will devote every waking hour to it. But, like you, my efforts mustremain entirely secret. I vow to find this man before I sleep again!"

"You are determined--yet it cannot be one single man. It must be anorganized gang, for all the crimes have been so strangely similar, occurring to three men who are friends, and entrez nous, notorious fortheir peccadilloes. The girls must be in the vicious circle, and ablyassisted. But there is one thing I forgot to tell you, which you forgotto ask. "

"And this is?"

"How they died. It was by some curious method of sudden arterialstoppage. Old as they were, some fiendish trick was employed soskilfully that the result was actual heart failure. There was no traceof drugs in lungs or blood. On each man's breast, beneath the sternumbone I found a dull, barely discernible bruise mark, which I laterremoved by a simple massage of the spot!"

Shirley closed his eyes, and passed his hand over his own chest--alongthe armpits--behind his ears--he seemed to be mentally enumerating somelist of nerve centers. The physician observed him curiously. 

"I have it, doctor! The sen-si-yao!"

"What do you mean?"

"The most powerful and secret of all the death-strokes of the Japaneseart of jiu-jitsu fighting. I paid two thousand dollars to learn thecourse from a visiting instructor when I was in college. It was worth itfor this one occasion. "

Shirley arose to his feet, and approached the other, touching hisshoulder. 

"Stand up, if you please. Let me ask if this was the location of themark?"

The physician, interested in this new professional phase, readilyobeyed. One quick movement of Shirley's muscular hand, the thumb oddlytwisted and stiffened, and a sudden jab in the doctor's abdomen madethat gentleman gasp with pain. Shirley's expression was triumphant, butthe professor regarded him with an expression of terror. 

"Oh! Ugh!--What-did-you-do-to me?" he murmured thickly, when he was atlast able to speak. 

"Merely demonstrated the beginning of the death punch which I named. That pressure if continued for half a minute would have been fatal. "

"I wish you would teach me that, " was the physician's natural request, as he nodded with a wry face. 

"Impossible, my dear sir, for I learned it, according to the Orientalcustom under the most sacred obligations of secrecy. One must advancethrough the whole course, by initiatory degrees, before learning thefinal mysteries of the samurais. Now, we have a working hypothesis. Thegirls could never have accomplished this. One man and one alone musthave killed the three, although doubtless with confederates. Yamashinoassured me that there were only six men in this country who knew itbeside myself. We must find an Orientalist!"

Shirley paced the floor, but his meditations were interrupted by thearrival of the Coroner and his physician. Van Cleft hurried into theroom with them, to present the doctor, who exchanged a formal greetingwith the men he had met twice before that week. 

"A sad affair, Professor, " observed the Coroner nervously, drinking inwith profound respect the magnificent surroundings which symbolizedthe great wealth of which he secretly hoped to gain a tithing. "I trustthat, as usual, in such cases, I may suggest an undertaker?"

"Why--talk about that at once, sir?" asked Howard with a shudder. 

The physician, familiar with the subtleties of coroners, gently placedan arm about the young man's shoulder. He nodded, understandingly, tothe Coroner, as he turned toward Shirley. 

"I must be going now, " the latter interposed. "Just a word with you, Howard, that I may send a message to your mother and sister. "

The physician led away the two officials as Shirley continued: "I mustgo to see Cronin--deserted there like a run-over mongrel on the street. Can I leave this house by the rear, so that none shall know of myassistance in the case, or follow me to the hospital? If you can securean old hat and coat, I will leave my own, with my stick, to get themsome other time. "

"I will get some from the butler, if you wait just a moment. You canleave by the rear yard, if you don't mind climbing a high board fence. "

Van Cleft hurried downstairs, in a few minutes, bearing a weather-beatenovercoat and an English cap, which Shirley drew down over his ears. Withthe coat on, he looked very unlike the well-groomed club man who hadentered. Unseen by Van Cleft he shifted an automatic revolver into thecoat pocket from the discarded garment. 

"Now, Mr. Shirley, come this way. Follow the rear area-way, across tothe next yard, where after another climb you find a vacant lot where theSchuylers are preparing to erect their new city house. Will you attendto everything?"

"Everything. I'll start sooner than you expect. "

Truly he did! For no sooner had he descended the second fence into theempty lot than a stinging blow sent him at full length on the rockyground, where the excavations were already being started. Two menpounced upon him in a twinkling--only his great strength, acquiredthrough the football years, saved him from immediate defeat. Hishead throbbed, and he was dizzy as he caught the wrist of the nearestassailant with a quick twist which resulted in a sudden, sickeningcrunch. The man groaned in agony, but his companion kicked withheavy-shod feet at the prostrate man. Shirley's left hand duplicatedthe vice-like grip upon the ankle of the standing assailant, and hisdeftness caused another tendon strain! Both men toppled to the ground, now, and before they realized it Shirley had reversed the advantage. His automatic emphasized his superiority of tactics. He understood theirsilence, broken only by muted groans: they feared the police, even asdid he, although for different reasons. He "frisked" the man nearest himupon the ground, and captured deftly the rascal's weapon: then he sprangup covering the twain. 

"Get up! Youse guys is poachin' in de wrong district--dis belongs to deMuggins gang. I'll fix youse guys fer buttin' in. Up, dere!" His handswent into his coat pockets, but the men knew that they were stillpointing at them, the gunman's "cover" as it is called. They staggeredsullenly to their feet. He beckoned with his head, toward the front ofthe lot. They followed the silent instructions, one limping while hismate wrung the injured wrist in agony. 

Directly before the lot stood a throbbing, empty automobile. Shirleydecided to take another car--he could not guard them and drive at thesame time. 

"Down to Fift' Avnoo, " he ordered. "I got two guns--not a woidfrom youse!" His erstwhile amiable physiognomy, now gnarled into anunrecognizable mask of low villainy bespoke his desperate earnestness. The men obeyed. This was apparently a gangster, of gangsters--their fearof the dire vengeance of a rival organization of cut-throats instilledan obedience more humble than any other threats. 

Toward the Park side they advance, one leaning heavily upon the other. Shirley, his broad shoulders hunched up; with the collar drawn highabout his neck, the murderous looking cap down over his eyes, followedthem doggedly. 

A big limousine was speeding down the Avenue from some homing theaterparty. Shirley hailed it with an authoritive yell which caused thechauffeur to put on a quick brake. 

"Git out dere, --no gun play. Up inter dat car!" he added, as theyapproached the machine. 

"Say, what you drivin' at?" cried the driver, queruously. "Is this ahold-up?" It was a puzzling moment, but the criminologist's calm bravadosaved the situation: as luck would have it no policemen were in sight, to spoil the maneuver. 

"No, " and he assumed a more natural voice and dialect. "I'm a detective. These men were just house-breaking, and I got them. There's twenty-fivedollars in it for you, if you take us down to the Holland DetectiveAgency, in ten minutes. "

"He's kiddin' ye, feller, " snapped out one man. 

"Don't fall fen him, yen boob!" sung out the other. 

But Shirley's automatic now appeared outside the coat pocket. Thechauffeur realized that here was serious gaming. With his left handShirley jerked out the ever ready police card and fire badge, whichseemed official enough to satisfy the driver. 

"Quick now, or I'll run you in, too, for refusing to obey an officer. You men climb into that back seat. Driver, beat it now to Thirty-nineWest Forty Street, if you need that twenty-five dollars. I'll sit withthem. I don't want any interference so I can come back and nab the restof their gang. "

His authoritative manner convinced this new ally, and he climbed intothe car, facing his prisoners, with the two weapons held down below thelevel of the windows. Pedestrians and other motorists little recked whatstrange cargo was borne as the car raced down the broad thoroughfare. 

In nine minutes they drew up before the Holland Agency, a darkened, brown front house of ancient architecture. The chauffeur sprang out toswing back the door. 

"Go up the steps, and tell the doorman that Captain Cronin wants two mento bring down their guns and handcuffs and get two prisoners. Quick!"

The street was not empty, even at this hour. Yet the passersby did notrealize the grim drama enacted inside the waiting machine. Hours seemedto pass before Cronin's men returned with the driver, as much surprisedby the three strange faces within the machine, as he had been. 

"You take these men upstairs and keep them locked up, " bluntly commandedthe criminologist. "They're nabbed on the new case of the Captain'swhich started to-night, I'm going over to Bellevue to see him. " Hisvoice was still disguised, his features twisted even yet. 

The men gave him a curious glance, and then obeyed. As they disappearedbehind the heavy wooden door, Shirley stepped into a dark hallway, closeby. He lit a wax match to give him light for the choosing of the rightamount, from the roll of bills which he drew forth. The chauffeurwhistled with surprise at the size of the denominations. The twenty-fivewere handed over. 

"Thanks very much, my friend, " and the face unsnarled itself, into theamiable lines of the normal. The voice was agreeable and smooth, whichsurprised the man the more. "You took me out of a ticklish situationtonight. I don't want any mere policemen to spoil my little game. Pleaseoil up your forgettery with these, and then--forget!"

"Say, gov'nor, " retorted the driver, as he put the money into the bandof his leather cap. "I ain't seen so much real change since my boss gotstung on the war. I ain't so certain but what you was the gink robbin'that house, at that. But that's them guys funeral if you beat 'em toit. Good-night--much obliged. But I got to slip it to you, gov'nor--youain't none of them Central Office flat-feet, sure 'nuff! If you are adetective, you're some fly cop!"

CHAPTER IV. A SCIENTIFIC NOVELTY

In a private ward room at Bellevue Hospital, Captain Cronin was justreturning to memory of himself and things that had been. Shirley arrivedat his cot-side as he was being propped up more comfortably. The olderman's face broke into game smiles, as the criminologist took the chairprovided by the pretty nurse. 

"Thanks, I'll have a little chat with my friend, if you don't think itwill do him any harm. "

"He is better now, sir. We feared he was fatally injured when theybrought him in. I'll be outside in the corridor if you need anything. "

She left not without an admiring look at the big chap, wondering why hewore such disreputable superstructure with patent leather pumps andsilk hose showing below the ragged overcoat. Strange sights come tohospitals, curiosity frequently leading to unprofitable knowledge: soshe was silently discreet. Shirley's garb was not unobserved by thedetective chief. Monty laughed reminiscently at the questioning glance. 

"These are my working clothes--a fine combination. I nabbed two of thegang. But what became of you?"

"Outside that club door, I wanted to save time for us both. I tookthe first taxi in sight. Before I could even call out to you, the doorslammed on me, the shades flopped down, the car started up--the nextthing I knew this here nurse was sticking a spoon in my mouth, a-saying:'Take this--it's fine for what ails you!'"

"I wonder if it could have been the same machine they left at VanCleft's? I will tell you how things progressed. " So he did, leavingout only the confidence of Professor MacDonald. The Captain becamefeverishly excited, until Shirley abjured him to beware of a relapse. "You must be calm, for the next twenty-four hours: there will be muchfor you to do, even then. Meanwhile, let me call up your agency; thenyou give them instructions over this table telephone to let Howard VanCleft interview the little chorus girl, with his friend. I'll be thefriend. "

"I'm afraid I'm going to be snowed under in this case, Monty. The finestjob I've had these dozen years. But you're square, and will do all youcan. "

"Old friend, I'll do what I can to make Van Cleft and the newspaperssure that you are the most wonderful sleuth inside or outside the publiclibrary. Here's your office--speak up. Let me lift you. "

"Hello Pat!" called Cronin, as his superintendent came to the 'phone. "Iam detained at Bellevue, so that I can't be there when Van Cleft comesdown. Let him Third Degree that little Jane from the garage. Keep themtwo men apart, too--oh, that's all right, the fellow is a friend of mineon the 'Frisco police force. He won't butt in. " Silence for a moment, then: "Oh, shucks, let 'em yowl! They've got more than kidnapping toworry about for the next twenty-five years. "

He hung up the receiver, sinking back on his pillows wan from thestrain. Monty handed him a glass of water, and adjusted the bandageswith a hand as tender as a woman's. He lifted the instrument again. 

"You are sterling, twenty-two carat and a yard wide, Captain! Now, getto sleep while I find out who the ring-master is. I've sworn to keepawake until I do. I think it well to telephone Van Cleft, and arrangefor a better get-a-way for us both. "

He was soon talking with the son of the murdered man. "Meet me down atthe Vanderbilt Hotel--ask for Mr. Hepburn's room, and send up the nameof Williams. See you in an hour. Good-bye. "

Hanging up the receiver, he turned toward the door, after a friendly paton Cronin's shoulder. The bell rang, and the Captain reached for it, tosink back exhausted upon the bed. Shirley answered, to be greeted by apleasant feminine voice. 

"Is this Captain Cronin?"

Instantly the criminologist replied affirmatively, suiting his tones asbest he could to the gruff voice of the detective chief, with a wink atthat worthy. 

"I just called up, Captain, to ask about you--Oh, you don't recognize myvoice. I'm Miss Wilberforce, private secretary to Mr. Van Cleft. Has anyone been to see you yet? I understand that you are very busy, and havealready missed two other good cases, this one being the THIRD! Well, don't hurry, Captain. You may get the rest to come--if you live longenough. Good-bye!"

Shirley looked at Cronin, startled. Another mention of the mysticnumber. He called for information about the origin of the call. 

"Lordee, son! Are they at it again?" asked Cronin in disgust. 

"Yes--overdoing it. One thing is clear, that whoever is behind thistelephone trickery is very clever, and very conceited over thatcleverness. It may be a costly vanity. Yes, information?"

"The call was from Rector 2190-D. The American Sunday SchoolOrganization, sir--It doesn't answer now; the office must be closed. "

Shirley put the instrument down, with a smile on his pursed lips. Hewaved a good natured farewell to his friend, as he drew the cap downover his eyes. 

"Look a little happier, Captain. I'll send down some fruit and a specialvintage from our club which has bottled up in it the sunlight of adozen years in Southern France. I hope they keep the telephone wiresbusy--they may tangle themselves up in their own spider-web!"

Leaving the hospital, he hurried to the hotel. One of his secretidiosyncracies was a custom of "living around" at a number of hotels, under aliases. Maintaining pleasant suites in each, he kept fullsupplies of linen and garments, while effectively blotting out his ownidentity for "doubling" work. 

He was known as "Mr. Hepburn" here, and entering the side door he wassubjected to the curious gaze of only one servant, the operator of thesmall elevator. Once in the shelter of his quarters he rummaged throughsome scrap-books for data--he found it in a Sunday feature storypublished a month before in a semi-theatrical paper. It described withrollicking sarcasm, a gay "millionaire" party which had been given inRector's private dining rooms. Among the ridiculed hosts were Van Cleft, Wellington Serral and Herbert De Cleyster! Here, in some elusive manner, ran the skein of truth which if followed would lead to the solution ofmystery. He must carve out of this mass of pregnant clues the essentialsupon which to act, as the sculptor chisels the marble of a huge block toexpose the figure of his inspiration, encased there all the time!

"To find out the source of their golden-haired nymphs for thismerry-merry, that is the question! Some stage doorkeeper might bepersuaded to unburden what soul he has left!"

He jotted in his memorandum book the names of the other eight wealthymen who were pilloried by the journalist. The younger men, Shirley felt sure, were of that peculiarly Manhattanse type ofhanger-on--well-groomed, happy-go-hellward youths who danced, laughedand drank well, --so essential to the philanderings of these rich oldHarlequins and their gilded Columbines. As he scribbled, the telephoneof the room tinkled its summons. 

He started toward it: then his invaluable intuition prompted him towalk into the adjoining room, where another instrument stood on a smalltable, handy to the bed. Only two people could possibly know he wasthere. Van Cleft could not have arrived, as yet. The other bell jingledimpatiently, but Shirley finally heard the voice of the switch-boardgirl. 

"I'm trying to get you on the other wire, sir. There's a call. "

"Don't connect me, " he hurriedly ordered, "except to open the switch, soI may listen. If I hang up without a word, tell the party I will be backin twenty minutes. "

With a hotel telephone girl tact is more important than even theknowledge of wire-knitting. It was the woman's voice which he had heardat the hospital. Captain Cronin was anxious to speak to Mr. Williams, who was calling on Mr. Hepburn! With the biggest jolt of this day ofsurprises Shirley disconnected and whistled. Again he laughed--with thatgrim chuckle which was so characteristic of his supreme battling mood!They had found the trail even quicker than he had expected. Fortunateit was that he had not mentioned his own name in telephoning fromthe hospital to Howard. Not a wire was safe from these mysteriouseaves-droppers now. He hurried into a business suit, and left the hotel, to walk over Thirty-fourth Street to the studio of his friend, HammondBell. Here he was admitted, to find the portrait-painter finishing asolitary chafing-dish supper. 

"Delighted, Monty! Join me in the encore on this creamed chicken andmushrooms!"

"Too rich for my primitive blood, Hammond. I'm in a hurry to get afavor. "

"I've received enough at your hands--say the word. "

"Simply this: I want to experiment with sound waves. I remembered thatonce in a while some of these wild Bohemian friends of yours warbledpost-impressionist love-songs into your phonograph. It stood the strain, and so must be a good one. It is too late now to get one in a shop; willyou lend me the whole outfit, with the recording attachment as well, forto-night and to-morrow?"

"The easiest thing you know. Let's slide it into this grip--you cancarry the horn. "

Three minutes later Shirley made his exit, and soon was shaking handswith Van Cleft in his own room at the hotel. He sketched his ideahurriedly, as he adjusted the instrument on the dressing-table near thetelephone. 

"When the call comes, be sure to say: 'Get closer, I can't hear you. 'That's the method, and it's so simple it is almost silly. " They werebarely ready when the bell warned them. At Van Cleft's reply, when thecall for "Mr. Williams" Shirley pushed the horn close to the telephonereceiver. Van Cleft twisted it, so as to give the best advantage, anddemanded that the speaker come closer to the 'phone. 

"Can you hear me now?" asked the feminine voice. "Do you hear me now?"

"No, speak louder. This is Mr. Williams. Speak up. I can't understandyou. " The voice was petulant and so distinct that even Shirley couldhear it, as he knelt by the side of the phonograph. Again Van Cleftinsisted on his deafness. There was the suggestion of a break in thevoice which brought to Shirley's eyes the sparkle of a presentiment ofsuccess. At last Van Cleft admitted that he could hear. 

"Well, you fool, I've a message for your friend Mr. Van Cleft. "

"Which one?" was the innocent inquiry, as he forgot for an instant thatnow he was the sole bearer of that name. 

"The one that's left. Tell him there will be none left if he continuesthis gum-shoe work. He had better let well enough alone, and let thatlittle girl get out of town as soon as possible. The papers will gocrazy over a scandal like this, and some one is apt to grab Van Cleft. That's all. Good-bye!"

Silently Shirley shut off the lever of the machine, to catch up thereceiver. As before his endeavor to locate the call resulted in a newaddress: this time in the Bronx!

"Ah, the lady leaps from the business district to the Bronx in half anhour. That is what I call some traveling. "

Van Cleft studied him with open mouth, as he withdrew the phonographrecord, coating it with the preservative to make the tiny linespermanent. 

"In the name of common sense, who was that? And what's this phonographgame?" he demanded. 

"The second question may answer the first before sunrise, unless I ambadly mistaken. I have heard an old adage which declares that if yougive a man long enough rope he will hang himself. My new application isthat you let him talk enough he is apt to sing his own swan song, for afarewell perch on the electric chair at Sing Sing!"

Then he lit a cigarette and packed up the phonograph. 

CHAPTER V. THE MISBEHAVIOR OF THE 'PHONE

Still befuddled by the unusual events of the day, Howard Van Cleft wasunable to delight in a theoretical discovery. Personal fear began tomanifest itself. 

"Mr. Shirley, you're going at this too strong. We know the guiltyparty--this miserable girl in the machine. We want to hush it up and letthings go at that. "

"We're hushing it, aren't we?" demanded Shirley, as he placed the recordin the grip. "Don't you see the wisdom of knowing who may systematicallyblackmail you after secrecy is obtained. This is a matter of the future, as well as the present. "

"But I don't want to lose my own life--I am young, with life before me, and I want to let well enough alone, after these threats. "

"I am afraid that you have a yellow streak. " His lip curled as hestudied the pallid features of the heir to the Van Cleft millions. Fearless himself, he could still understand the tremors of thiscare-free butterfly: yet he knew he must crush the dangerous thoughtswhich were developing. "If you mistrust me, hustle for yourself. Youhave the death-certificate, the services will be over in a few days, andthen you will have enough money to live on your father's yacht or terrafirma for the rest of your life, in the China Sea, or India, as far awayfrom Broadway chorus girls as you want. That might be safe. "

He gazed out of the window, toward the twinkling lights far away acrossthe East River. His sarcasm made Van Cleft wince as though from a whiplash. The latter mopped his forehead and tried to steady his voice, ashe replied with all humility. 

"You're a brick, and I don't mean to offend you. Today has beenterrible, you know: this tornado has swept me from my moorings. I don'tknow where to turn. "

"I am thoughtless, " and Shirley's warm hand grasped the flaccid fingersof the young man. "Forgive me for letting my interest run away with mysympathies. I'm thinking of the future, more than mere protection fromnewspaper scandal. This crime is so ingenious that I believe it has amore powerful motive than mere robbery. You are now at the head of agreat house of finance and society. You must guard your mother and yoursister, and those yet to come. A deadly snake is writhing its slimytrail somewhere: here--there--'round about us! Who knows where it willstrike next? Who knows how far that blow may reach--even unto China, orwherever you run?"

He hesitated, studying the effect upon Van Cleft, who dropped limplyinto a chair, his eyes dark with terror. The psychological ruse had won. Selfish cowardice, which temporarily threatened to ruin his campaign, now gave way to the instinct of a fighting defense. 

"There, Van Cleft, it is ghastly. You have the significance now: we mustscotch the snake. That girl is over at the Holland Agency, and we shouldsee her at once, to learn what she knows. Cronin has arranged for mycoming with you, so introduce me under my real name. 

"Wait here fifteen minutes after I leave, so that I may get thephonograph in readiness, for you will undoubtedly be shadowed, and thatmay mean another telephone call. You were not a coward in college--I donot believe you are one now!"

Van Cleft straightened up proudly. 

"No, I will fight them with all I have. But why these phonographrecords: isn't one enough?"

"No, I want autographs of all the voices. I will go now. Don't hurry infollowing me. Do not fear to let any shadowers see you--it will help usalong. "

Before many minutes he had been admitted to the corridor of the HollandAgency by a sharp-nosed individual who regarded him with suspicion. Theoperatives were undoubtedly expecting trouble from all quarters, forthree other large men of the "bull" type, heavy-jowled, ponderous men, surrounded him as he presented his card. 

"I am the friend of Howard Van Cleft, about whom Captain Cronintelephoned you from Bellevue. I am to help him interview the girl: may Iwait until he arrives?"

"Oh, you're wise to the case? Sure then, come into the reception room onthe right. What's that in your grip?" asked the apparent leader of themen. 

"Just an idea of Van Cleft's, " said Shirley, as he followed into theadjoining compartment. "It's a phonograph. Have you received any phoney'phone calls to-night? Queer ones that you didn't expect and couldn'texplain? Van Cleft has, and he decided to take records of them on thismachine. "

The superintendent nodded. Shirley opened the grip and drew out theinstrument, and made ready on the small table, near which was the desktelephone. 

"Let's get this in readiness then, and if you get any calls have themswitched up to this instrument, so that when you talk, you can hold thereceiver handy to the horn. "

"Young feller, I think you must know more about this business thanyou've a right to. Just keep your hands above the table--I think I'llfrisk you!"

"No need, " snapped Shirley with a smile in his eyes, and the automaticrevolver was drawn and covering the detective before he could reachforward. "But I have no designs on you. You will have to work quickerthan that with some people in this case. "

He slid the weapon across the table to the other who snatched itanxiously. 

"If a call comes and you don't recognize the voice at once, please askthe party to come closer to the 'phone, to speak louder--listen, thereis the bell now! Get it connected here at once!"

The surprised superintendent, fearing that after all he might misssome good lead, yielded to his professional curiosity against hisprofessional prejudices. He bawled down the hall. 

"Switch on up here, Mike. I'll talk. " He caught up the instrument, asShirley dropped to his knees beside him, to swing the horn into place. 

"What's that?" he shouted over the wire. "Yes, shure it is--What's thatyou say?--I don't get you, cull--You want to speak to the girl?--Whatgirl?--Talk louder. Hire a hall!--Say, I ain't no mind reader! Speakup. "

Over the instrument came the phrase once more: "Can you hear me now?"

It was the man's voice! Shirley was exultant. 

"Yes, I hear you. What do you want?"

"I want to call for my sister, if you're going to let her go. I want--"

An inspiration prompted Shirley to press down the prongs of thereceiver. The connection was stopped, and the superintendent turned uponhim angrily. 

"You spoiled that, you nut! We was just about to find out who herbrother was--say, who are you, anyway?"

"There, don't you worry. That makes another call certain. Don't you see?That's what I'm playing for. But here comes Van Cleft, who will tell youI am all right. "

The millionaire entered the hallway before any serious altercation couldarise. He greeted Shirley warmly and introduced him to Pat Cleary. Theman was mollified. 

"Well, I'm Captain Cronin's right bower, and I thinks as how this guyis the joker of the deck trying to make a dirty deuce out of me. But, if you want to see the girl, she's right upstairs. His work was a littlespeedy on first acquaintance. Nick, keep your eyes on this machine, forwe may get another call on this floor--This way gentlemen. Watch yourstep, for the hallway's dark. "

The girl was imprisoned in a windowless room on the second floor. As thedoor opened, Shirley beheld a pitiful sight. Attired in the finery ofthe Rialto, she lay prone upon a couch in the center of the dingy room, sobbing hysterically. Her blonde hair was disheveled, her features wanand distorted from her paroxysms of fear and grief. Like a frightenedanimal, she sprang to her feet as they entered the room, retreatingto the wall, her trembling hands spread as though to brace her fromfalling. 

"I didn't do it! I swear! The old fool was soused and I don't know whatwas the matter with me. But I didn't kill any one in the world!"

"There, sit down, little girl, and don't get frightened. This gentlemanand I have come to learn the truth--not to punish you for something youdidn't do. Start with the beginning and tell all you remember. "

Shirley's gentle manner was so unexpected, his voice so inspiring thatshe relaxed, sinking to the floor, as Shirley caught her limp girlishform in his arms. He placed her on the couch again, and she regainedher composure under his calm urging. Little by little she visualizedthe details of the gruesome evening and narrated them under the magneticcross-questions of the criminologist. 

She had met the elder Van Cleft in the tea-room of a Broadway hostelry, by appointment made the evening before at Pinkie Taylor's birthdayparty. After several drinks together they took a taxicab to ride uptownto a little chop house. Did she see any one she knew in the tea-room? Ofcourse, several of the fellows and girls whom she couldn't remember justnow, buzzed about, for Van Cleft was a liberal entertainer around theyoungsters. She had five varieties of cocktails in succession, andshe became dizzy. In the taxicab she became dizzier and when next sheremembered anything definite she was sitting on the stool in the garagewhere she had been arrested. That was all. As she reached this pointthere came a knock on the door with a call for Van Cleft. 

"You Van's son!" she screamed. Then she fainted, while Shirley caughther, calling an assistant to care for her, as he followed Van Cleftdownstairs to answer the telephone. "You know your cues?"

The millionaire nodded, as with trembling fingers he caught upthe instrument and knelt on the bare floor to hold it close to thephonograph, which Shirley was engineering, with a fresh record in place. 

"Hello! Hello, there, I say. Hello!"

Shirley strained his ears, to hear this time a rough, wheezy voice whichcaused the two men to exchange startled glances, as it proceeded: "Isthis you, Howard, my boy?"

"What do you want? I can't hear you. The telephone is buzzing. Louderplease!"

Shirley nodded approbation, as the machine ran along merrily. 

"Now, can you hear me. Ahem! Can you hear me now? Is this Howard VanCleft?"

"Yes, go ahead, but louder still. "

"Now, can you hear me? This is your father's dearest friend, Howard, --this is William Grimsby speaking. I am fearfully distressed andshocked to learn of his death, my poor boy. And Howard, I am grievedto learn that there is some little scandal about it. As your father'sconfidential adviser, I urge you to hush it up at all cost. I was toldat your home just now by one of the servants that you had gone to thisvulgar detective agency. "

Here Shirley shut off the phonograph, addressing Van Cleft with his handover the mouthpiece of the telephone for the minute. 

"Keep on talking until I return. Get his advice about flowers andeverything else you can think of. "

Then he ran from the room, into the hallway, out of the door, and downthe stoop to Fortieth Street. He looked about uncertainly, then espiedacross the way a tailor shop, where the light of the late workman stillburned. Monty hurried thither and asked the use of the telephone uponthe wall. 

"Shuair, mister, but it will cost you a dime, for I have to pay the gasand the rent. "

From the telephone directory he obtained the address and number ofWilliam Grimsby, the banker. He received an answer promptly. Theservant, after learning his name promised to call the master. A gruffvoice answered soon. Mr. Grimsby declared that he had been reading inhis library for the last two hours, undisturbed by any telephone calls. Shirley expressed a doubt. 

"How dare you doubt my word, sir. The telephone is in my reception roomwhere I heard it ring just now, for the first time. What do you want?"

"An interview with you to-morrow morning at nine on a life and deathmatter. I can merely remind you, sir, that two of your friends, Wellington Serral and Herbert de Cleyster have met mysterious deathsduring the past week. Mr. Van Cleft died of heart failure to-night. I will be there at nine. As you value your own life do not leave yourresidence or even answer any telephone messages again until I see you. "

"Well, I'll be--" Shirley disconnected, before the verb was reached. Hetossed the coin to the tailor, and speedily returned to the waiting roomwhere he signaled Van Cleft to end the conversation. 

"Quick now, find out what wire called you up. " The answer was "WilliamGrimsby, 97 Fifth Avenue. "

"You had the wrong tip that time, Mr. Shirley, " said Van Cleft. "But howcould he have found out where I was, for none of the servants know aboutCaptain Cronin, or even my family that I was coming down here. He gaveme some good advice however. I want to pay the hush money and end it allforever. "

Shirley had preserved the record and put it away with the others in thegrip. Now he lit a cigarette and puffed several rings of smoke beforeanswering. 

"Van, it must be wonderful to be twins. "

"This is no night for joking, " petulantly, observed the nervous youngman. "I want the girl silenced--"

"She won't open her mouth after I tell her some things. It may entertainyou to know, Van, that while you were getting such good advice from Mr. Grimsby on this wire, I was talking to the real Mr. Grimsby on his ownwire: he said I was his first caller in more than an hour. So, I gavehim some good advice, which wouldn't interest you. After this don'tbelieve what the telephone tells. "

"Who was I speaking with?"

"The most brilliant criminal it has ever been my pleasure to runacross, " and his eyes snapped with joy, the huntsman instinct rising tothe surface at last, "I will call him the voice until I know his bettername. He is the most scientific crook of the age. "

"What do you know about criminals?" was the incredulous question. 

"I'll know a hundred times as much as I do now, when I know all aboutthis one, Van. You'd better have Cleary send an armed guard along withyou, and get home for a good rest. Get a man who can drive a car, andbring back the empty auto three houses away from your residence: it willbear looking into! I'm going up to have a revival meeting with that girlnow, for I am convinced that she is not a whit more implicated in theconception or execution of this crime than you are. Good-night. "

Van Cleft left the house, with a pitying shake of the head. He wasnot quite certain that he had done wisely, after all, in bringing hiseccentric friend into the affair. He little reckoned how much morepeculiarly Montague Shirley was to act for the remainder of the night. 

CHAPTER VI. AN EXPERIMENT WITH THE "MOVIES"

The cross-examination of Polly Marion resulted in little advantage. Shehad known of the sudden departure of two other songbirds, well equippedwith funds for the land of Somewhere Else. Their absence had been thesubject of some quiet jesting among the dragon flies who flitted overthe pond of pleasure. A suggestion, from some unrecalled source, thattheir disappearance had been connected with the deaths of the twoaged suitors was revitalized in her memory by the words of the elderlydetective. Familiar with the strange life of this jeweled half-worldShirley's keenness brought forth nothing to convince him that the girlhad been more culpable than in the following of her class, known to theinitiate as the "gentle art of gold digging. "

"Polly, go home now, and stay away from these parties: that's my honestadvice, if you want to be on the 'outside looking in, ' when some one issent to prison for this. I am in favor of hushing up this affair, andwant to ease it up for you. Are you wise?"

Polly was wise, beyond her years. Her equipoise was regained, and with acoquettish interest in this handsome interviewer--such girls always havean eye for future business--he returned to her theatrical lodginghouse, in which at least dwelt her wardrobe and makeup box when she was"trouping" in some spangled chorus. Of recent months she had not beensubjected to the Hurculean rigors of bearing the spear, thanks to thegratuities of the open-handed Van Cleft, Senior. She pleaded to remainout of the white lights, meaning it as she spoke. But Shirley wiselyfelt that the butterfly would emerge from the chrysalis, shortly, toflutter into certain gardens where he would fain cull rare blossoms! PatCleary deputized a "shadow" to diarize her exits and entrances. 

"The hooks are cleaned, with fresh bait upon them, " soliloquizedShirley, as he went down the dark stoop. "Now for a little laboratorywork on the wherefore of the why!"

Although long after midnight, he numbered among his acquaintanceship, many whom he could find far from Slumber-land. His steps led to theapartment of a certain theatrical manager, whom he found engaged ina lively tournament of the chips, jousting with two leading men, oneplaywright, a composer and a merchant prince. The latter, of course, waswinning. The host, contributing both chips and bottled cheer, was farfrom optimistic until the arrival of the club man. 

"A live one abaft the mizzen!" exclaimed Dick Holloway, "Here's Shirleysent by Heaven to join us. After all I hope to pay my next month'srent. "

Noisily welcomed by the victims of mercantile prowess, he apologeticallydeclined to flirt with Dame Fortune, pleading a business purpose. 

"Business, Monty! By the shade of Shakspeare! I never knew you to lookat business, except to prevent it running you down like a Fourth Avenuemail bus. "

"It is in the interest of science, " said Shirley, drawing the manageraside, "an experiment--"

"Fudge on science. You interrupt a game at this time of night!"

"But it means money. I am willing to pay. "

"Ah, Monty, money should never come between friends, and so I retract:with three failures this season, because the public doesn't appreciateart. "

"It's about moving pictures. I know that you have floated a syndicatefor big productions. Do you work night and day?"

"An investment? Heaven bless you! Come into my bedroom and we'll arrangethings of course, we work at night. Just this minute they are producingthe 'Bartered Bride' in six reels and eighteen thrills a foot. Amagnificently equipped studio, the public yelling for more how much haveyou?"

"Not so fast, Dick. It's merely some special work tonight, what youwould call trick photography. I need a photographer, some lights, alittle space, a microscopic lens and the complete developing during thenight. And, I'll pay cash, as I have done with some suspicious pokerlosses in this temple of the muses on bygone evenings. Which, I mayurge with gentle sarcasm is more than I have frequently received at yourhands. "

"Touche!" laughed Holloway. "I'll write a note to the studiomanager--he's there now, and will do what you want. You could have yourpicture completed by morning with a little financial coaxing applied inthe right place. Come to the library table. Go on with the game, boys, it will save me a little. "

The potentate of dry goods was drawing in his winnings, as Shirleyleaned over Holloway's shoulder to dictate the missive. Suddenly arevolver shot rang out from the window, and a bullet crashed into thewall behind Shirley's head. 

His hand, idly dropped into his overcoat pocket, intuitively closedaround his automatic revolver. A dark silhouette was outlined againstthe gray luminosity cast up by the lights of Broadway, half a block fromthe window. Through the opening another belching flame shot forth, tobe answered by the criminologist's weapon, barking like a miltraileuse. They heard a stifled cry, and as Shirley ran forward, he exclaimed withdisappointment. 

"He's escaped down the fire-escape and through that skylight. "

He faced about to smile grimly at the curious scene within. Theplaywright had taken refuge among the brass andirons of the big emptyfireplace. The matinee heroes were under chairs, and Holloway behind themahogany buffet. From the direction of the stairway came shrill criesfrom the speeding merchant, softening in intensity as he neared thestreet level. 

"The battle's over!" exclaimed Holloway. "I don't know whether it was mychorus men wishing the gipsy curse on me, or the stage-carpenters goingon a strike. But look! See the swag that Jerry left behind! What shallwe do with it?"

"Loot!" suggested the playwright, with rare discrimination, as he dustedoff the wood ashes, and approached the table with glistening eyes. "We'll divide share and share alike. It's the only way to win fromJerry. "

Temperament was asserting its gameness. Shirley put back into positiona shattered portrait of Sarah Bernhardt, and his eyes twinkled as theapostles of the muses hastened to divide the chips of the departed oneinto five generous piles. Holloway completed the letter, albeit with anervous chirography, and handed him the envelope. 

"Go now, before a submarine war zone is declared. I'm going to close upshop before the police come visiting. Good luck, Monty, in the cause ofscience. "

Although his conscience was clear about the game having created fivesurprised winners by his interruption, he was disturbed over thecertainty that the voice was aware of his personal work in the case. Thedifficulties were now trebled! Before any policemen appeared Shirleyhad passed Broadway on his way to the motion picture studio, on the Westside of Tenth Avenue. Whatever secret observers may have been on histracks, nothing untoward occurred: still, his senses were quickened intocaution by the attempt on his life. 

A parley with a grumpy gateman, the presentation of his letter and hewas admitted to the presence of the manager, a man exhausted with thestrenuosity of night and day work. Shirley understood the antidote forhis sullenness. 

"Here, old man, send out for a little luncheon for the two of us. I havesome unusual experimental work, and need the assistance of a well-knownexpert like yourself. " The flattery, embellished by a ten-dollar bill, opened a flood-gate of optimism. 

A camera man was summoned, and the apparatus prepared for some"close-up" motion pictures. Under the weird green lights of the mercuryvapor lamps, a director and company of players were busily enactinga dramatic scene, before a studio set. They gave little heed to thenewcomer: boredom is a prime requisite of poise in the motion pictureart. 

"I have here three phonograph records, which I want photographed. "

"But they don't move--you want a still camera, " exclaimed the dumfoundedmanager. 

"Yes, they do move as the picture is taken. I want a microscopic lensused in the camera in such a way that we take a motion picture of thetwinings and twistings of one little thread on the wax cylinder, as itrecords the sound waves around the cylinder. "

The photographer sniffed with scorn, being familiar with eccentricuplifters of the "movies, " but responded to the command of the managerto adjust his delicate camera mechanism for the task. 

"There is a certain phrase of words on each cylinder which I wantrecorded this way. Can all three be taken parallel with each other onthe same film?"

"Sure, easiest thing to do--just a triple exposure. We take it on oneedge of the film, through a little slit just a bit wider than the spaceof the thread, cut in a screen. Then we rewind that film, and slide theslit to the middle of the lens, take your second wax record, and do thesame on the right edge of the film for the third. But what's the idea?"

The camera man began to show interest: he was a skilled mechanician andhe caught the drift of a sensible purpose, at last. 

Shirley did not answer. He placed the first record in the phonograph, running it until the feminine voice could be distinguished asking: "Canyou hear me now?" He marked the beginning and end of this phrase withhis pocket knife. So with the merry masculine and the aged, disagreeablevoice, he located the same order of words: "Can you hear me now?"The operation seems easy, in the telling, or again perhaps it appearsintensely involved and hardly worth the trouble. A motto of Shirley'swas: "Nothing is too much trouble if it's worth while. " So, with this. To the cynical camera man its general nature was expressed in hiswhispered phrase to the manager:

"You better not leave them property butcher knives on that there table, Mr. Harrison. This gink is nuts: he thinks's he's Mike Angelo or someother sculpture. He'll start sculpin' the crowd in a minute!"

"You take the picture and keep your opinions to yourself, " snappedShirley whose hearing was highly trained. 

The man lapsed into silence. For two hours they fumed and perspired andswore, under the intense heat of the low-hung mercury lamps, until atlast a test proved they had the right combination. Shirley greasedthe skill of the camera man with a well-directed gratuity, and orderedspeedy development of the film. Before this was done, however, he tooksix other records of voices from the folk in the studio, using the samewords: "Can you hear me now?"

The three strips of triple exposures were taken to the dark room anddeveloped by the camera man. They were dried on the revolving electricdrums, near a battery of fans. Shirley studied every step of the work, with this and that question--this had been his method of acquiring acuriously catholic knowledge of scientific methods since leaving theuniversity, where sporting proclivities had prompted him to slidethrough courses with as little toil as possible. 

A print upon "positive" film was made from each: every strip wasduplicated twenty-five times, at Shirley's suggestion. Then after twohours of effort the material was ready to be run through the projectingmachine, for viewing upon the screen. 

The manager led Shirley to the small exhibition theatre in which everyfilm was studied, changed and cut from twenty to fifty times beforebeing released for the theatres. The camera man went into the littlefire-proof booth, to operate the machine. 

"Which one first, chief?"

"Take one by chance, " said Shirley, "and I will guess its number. Startaway. "

There was a flare of light upon the screen, as the operator fussed withthe lamp for better lumination. He slowly began to turn the crank, andthe criminologist watched the screen with no little excitement. Thepicture thrown up resembled nothing so much as three endless snakestwisting in the same general rhythm from top to bottom of the frame. Thetwenty-five duplicates were all joined to the original, so that therewas ample opportunity to compare the movements. 

"Well, gov'nor, which film was that?" asked the operator. 

"Not A--it was B or C!"

"Correct. How'd you guess it? Which is this one?"

As he adjusted another roll of film in the projector, Shirley turned tothe manager sitting at his side. "Mr. Harrison, were those snakes allexactly alike?"

"No. They all wriggled in the same direction, at the same time. Butlittle rough angles in some movements and queer curves in others madeeach individually different. "

"Just what I thought. There goes another. --That is not film A, either!"

"Righto!" confirmed the camera man. As the detailed divergence betweenthe lines became more evident in the repetitions, Shirley slapped hisknee. 

"Now for the finish. Try reel A. "

This time the three snakey lines moved along in almost identicalsynchronism. The only difference was that the first was thin, the secondheavier, the third the darkest and most ragged of all. The relationshipwas unmistakable!

"I got you gov'nor, " cried the operator. "Some dope, all right, allright. "

"Why, what is all this?" asked the manager, nonplussed. "The last threeare alike, but what good does it do?"

"It is known that the human voice in its inflections is likehandwriting--with a distinct personality. Certain words, when pronouncednaturally, without the alterations of dialect, are always in the samerhythm. The records taken in the studio of those five words, 'Can youhear me now?' are in the same general rhythm, but only the last threesnakes show exact similarity, to each little quaver and turn. There wasonly the difference in shading: one was the voice of a women. The secondof a man of perhaps forty, the third of an old man--all three taken atdifferent times, and I thought from different people. But they all camefrom one throat, and my work is completed along this line--Will youplease lock up the films, the phonograph, and my records in your filmvault, until I send for them; through Mr. Holloway?"

The criminologist arose and walked into the deserted studio, from whencethe company had long since departed for belated slumbers. He picked upthree bricks which lay in a corner of the big studio, and placed themgently into his grip. The manager and the camera man observed this withblank amazement, as he locked it and put the key into his pocket. Thenhe handed each of them a large-sized bill. 

"I'm very grateful, gentlemen, for your assistance. Pleasant dreams. "

Shirley abstractedly walked out of the studio, one hand comfortably inhis overcoat pocket, swinging the grip in the other. 

"Say, Lou, " confided the manager, "he's the craziest guy I've ever seenin the movies. And that's going some, after ten years of it. "

Lou treated himself to a generous bite of plug tobacco, and spatphilosophically, before replying. 

"Sure, he's crazy. Crazy, like the grandfather of all foxes!"

CHAPTER VII. ENTER A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

A reddening zone in the East silhouetted the serrated line of thedistant elevated structure, as Shirley walked along the gray street, histhoughts busy with the possibilities of applying his new certainty. 

He had reached Sixth Avenue, and was just passing one of the elevatedpillars when a black touring car crept up behind him. The clanging belland the grinding motors of an early surface car drowned the sound ofthe automobile in his rear. Suddenly the big machine sprang forward athighest speed. A man leaned from the driver's seat, and snatched thegrip from his hand. 

The motorman, cursing, threw on the emergency brake, in time to barelygraze the machine with his fender as it shot across the street beforehim. 

Shirley's view was cut off, until he had run around the street-car--thenhe beheld the big automobile skidding in a half-circle, as it turneddown Fifth Avenue. It was too far away to distinguish the number of thesinging license tag. 

"Much good may the bricks do them! Perhaps they will help to build theannex necessary up the river, when these gentry go there for a longvisit. "

Shirley laughed at the joke on his pursuers, and turned into a littleall-night grill for a comforting mutton chop of gargantuan proportions, with an equally huge baked potato. He was a healthy brute, after allhis morbid line of activities! Later, at the Club, he submitted to theamenities of the barber, whose fine Italian hand smoothed away, in askilful massage, the haggard lines of his long vigil. As he left theclub house for William Grimsby's residence he looked as fresh andbouyant as though he had enjoyed the conventional eight hours' sleep. 

"You are this Montague Shirley?" was the querulous greeting from theold gentleman, when he was admitted to the drawing-room. "You kept me inanguish the entire night, with your silly words. The telephone bellrang at intervals of half an hour until dawn: I may have missed someimportant business deal by not replying What do you mean? Is this someblackmail game?"

"No, sir. It has to deal with blackmailing, however--but not for myprofit. "

"Explain quickly. I am a busy man. My motor is waiting now to take me tomy office. "

"Look here, Mr. Grimsby, at this memorandum book, " said Shirley, holdingforward the list which he had copied from the joy-party article in thetheatrical paper. "With some friends of yours, you held merry carnivalto Venus and Bacchus at an all-night lobster palace not long ago. Have Ithe right names?"

"This is rank impertinence. How dare you? Get out of my house. "

"Not so fast, my dear sir, until you understand my drift. ThroughoutClub circles you and Mr. Van Cleft, with these other cronies aresarcastically referred to as the Lobster Club. Did you know that?"

Grimsby's face was purple with angry mortification, but Shirley wouldnot be gainsaid. "I am acting in this matter as a friend of Howard VanCleft, " he continued. "Your three friends have met their deaths at thehand of a cunning conspirator. Last night, white I talked with you onthe telephone, young Van Cleft was receiving advice over another wirefrom a person who pretended to be William Grimsby--advising him to hushthe matter up and drop the investigation. But--Captain Cronin thefamous detective--has received a tip that the number of victims would beincreased very soon--frankly, now: do you want to be the fourth?"

Grimsby's face changed to ashen gray, as he timidly clutched Shirley'ssleeve. 

"Then cooperate with me. You understand now the nature of this villain'swork: to rob and assassinate his victim in the company of a girl, sothat this would endeavor to hush the scandal, without reporting it tothe police. His progress is unchecked, and afterwards he would haveuntold opportunity for continuing a demand for hush money on thesurviving relatives. May I count on you to help?"

"You may count on me to leave the city within the next two hours. "

"Good! But I want to have you disappear so quietly that this cunningunknown will not know of it. He is watching your house now, without adoubt. "

Grimsby strode to the window, with his characteristic limp, and drew theheavy curtains aside, to peer out nervously. 

"No one is in sight. "

"The man is as unseen in his work as a germ. But he is not unheard: heuses the telephone to locate his victims, that is why I advised you tolet your instrument ring unanswered. "

"I'll do what I can, if I can keep out of more danger. An old man craveslife more than a young one. I fought through the Civil War and broughta medal from Congress and this wounded knee out of it, Mr. Shirley. Ididn't fear anything then, but times have changed!"

"Here is my plan, then, " continued Shirley, his lips twitching withsub-strata amusement, "I want to impersonate you, when you leave, sothat this man tries to send me after the other three. Don't interrupt, let me finish--You will say that it is impossible to deceive any one atclose range. Surely, it does sound melodramatic, like a lurid tale ofa paper back novel. But I have studied the photographs of your friends. You and I bear the closest resemblance of any in the group. Your weightis about the same as mine--your shoulders are a trifle stooped andyou walk with a curious drag of your left foot. Your hair is whitebut thick: the contour of our faces is quite similar, and so with drycosmetics, some physical mimicry, and the use of a pair of horn-rimmedglasses like yours I can make a comparatively good double. The onlyexposure to the sharp eyes of your enemies will be, first, when Isubstitute myself for you and take your automobile back home; second, when I go down to the theatrical district, to visit a well-known tearoomwhere I learn you are a frequent guest. There the wall tables areshrouded by decorations, and I shall keep in the shadow and talk aslittle as possible. Behind those dark glasses, and entering the placewith your peculiarly spotted fur coat, I will resemble you more than youbelieve. If to add to the illusion, I show hospitable prodigality withdrinks for the others, it is probable that their observation will beless analytical. Then, third in the line of activities, I will go to thetheatre, sit in a darkened box, and let them take me where they will inwhatever automobile turns up. Thus you see my campaign. "

"How much do I have to pay you?"

"I might have expected that, " was the laughing retort. "You are notedfor the fortunes you waste on stupid show girls, while times are hardwith you in your offices where young and old men struggle along tosupport honest families. Have no fear, Mr. Grimsby, my income is enoughfor my simple wants. I am entering this hunt for big game, just as Ihave gone to India and East Africa, for jungle trophies. It will notcost you a nickel. "

"I had better contribute a little, " began Grimsby, embarrassed, as hedrew out a check-book. But Shirley negatived with emphasis. 

"How about your servants? Can you trust them with the secret?"

"They have been with me for twenty-five years or more. My wife is inCalifornia, and the rest of the servants, except two maids and a butler, up at my country home on the Hudson. "

"Fine: then, in two hours from now, meet me at the Hotel Astor, where Ihave rooms, in the name of Madden. Bring down an extra suit of clothes, and an extra overcoat, for I want to wear your fur one, which I seethere on the davenport. On the downward trip instruct your chauffeurto drive your car up to your country place, as soon as he has made thereturn trip from the hotel. You will be there before he gets up, on thecountry roads and he will be none the wiser. Goodbye, Mr. Grimsby. "

At the club Shirley made some necessary disposition of his privatematters, for he knew this case would run longer than a day. Fromhis rooms he sent a note by messenger to his theatrical friend, DickHolloway, which read simply. 

"Dear Holloway:--The experiment with the movies won the blue ribbon. Ihave a new plan on foot. You can help me in this, as well. I want you toengage for me a beautiful, clever and daring actress, afraid of nothingunder the sun or moon, and absolutely unknown on Broadway. No amateursor stage-struck heiresses or manicurists: you are the one impresario whocan fill my bill. I will call at your office in fifteen minutes, so havethe compact sealed by then. Who finally won the loot, last night?

 Your friend, Montague Shirley. "

The manager was forced to go through the note twice, to make sure thathis senses were not leaving him. Then he turned in the chair, towardthe unusual young woman who sat in his private office, observing withmingled amusement and curiosity the fleeting expressions upon his face. 

"In view of your mission in America, this may interest you, " was hisamused comment, as he handed her the missive. "It is from the mostcurious man in New York. "

He studied the downcast lashes, as she read the letter. Hers was aface which had stirred a continent, yet he had never met her until thismemorable day. She might have been twenty-three years old--and again, might have been three years younger or older. Rippling red-gold wavesof hair separated in the center of her smooth brow to caress with a softwave on either side the blooming cheeks, whose Nature-grown roses wereunusual in this world-weary vicinity of Broadway. A sweet mouth with asensuous smile at one corner, and a barely perceptible droop of pathosat the other, lent an indescribable piquance to her dimpled smile. Theblue orbs which raised to his own with a Sphinxian laugh in theirazure depths thrilled him--Holloway, the blase, the hardened theatricalmanager, flattered and cajoled by hundreds of beautiful women on thequest of stage success!

Adroitly veiled beneath the silken folds of the clinging gown, redolentwith the bizarre artistry of a Parisian atelier, was the shapelysuggestion of exquisite physical perfection which did not escape theconnoisseur glance of Holloway. 

"He is a literary man: I know that from the small, yet fluent writing, and the cross marks for periods show that he has written for newspapersand corrected his own proofs--He is unusually definite in what hedesires and accustomed to having his imperious way about most things. Inthis case, he is easily pleased--merely perfection is his desire. "

"Shirley is generally prompt, and is apt to breeze in here any secondnow, with his two hundred pounds and six feet of brawn and ginger. Iwonder--"

"Why do you suppose such a paragon is desired by your friend? Who is he?What is he like, not an ordinary actor--" and the wondrous eyes darkenedwith a curious thought. 

"My dear lady, no one has discovered the mental secrets of MontagueShirley. He apparently wastes his life as do other popular society menwith much money and more time on their hands. Yet, somehow, I alwaysfeel in his presence as one does when standing on the bow of an oceanliner, with the salt breeze whizzing into your heart. He is a force ofnature, yet he explains nothing: a thorough man of the world; droll, sarcastic, generous and I believe for democracy he is unequaled by anyTammany politician: he knows more policemen, dopes, conductors, beggars, chauffeurs, gangsters, bartenders, jobless actors, painters, preachers, anarchists, and all the rest of New York's flotsam and jetsam than anyone in the world. He is always the polished gentleman, and yet they takehim man for man. "

"What does this unusual person do for a living?"

"Nothing but living!"

Her interest was naturally undiminshed by this perfervid tribute, andshe clapped her dainty hands together with sudden mirth. 

"You know why I came here, and why to you, Mr. Holloway. You know who Iam, and although I answer none of those exorbitant terms except that Iam not known by sight along your big street Broadway, why not recommendme for the position?"

"But you, of all people!" Holloway's face was a study in amazement. "Youcan't tell what wild project he has in view. Shirley is a wild Indian, in many things you know--just when you least expect it. I have known hima dozen years. "

He paused to weigh the matter, and his sense of humor conquered. Heroared with mirth, which was joined in more sedately by the unknowngirl. "That settles it. You couldn't start on your campaign in a betterway. You shall be the Lady of Mystery in this story! I will not breathea hint of your identity to Shirley, and no one else knows, of course. What a ripping good joke: I'm glad you came here the first hour afteryour landing in New York. "

"What shall I call myself? I have it--a romantic name, which will beworth laughing over later--let me see--Helene Marigold. Is that floweryenough?"

"Shirley will be sure you are an actress when he hears that. Mum isthe word, may you never have stage fright and never miss a cue--Here hecomes now!"

The criminologist rushed into the office impetuously, dropping his bagon the floor, and doffing his hat as he beheld the pretty companion ofHolloway. 

"On time to the minute, as usual, Shirley. Your note came, and Ifollowed your instructions. Let me present to you your new star, MissHelene Marigold, who just disembarked on the steamer from England thismorning. You have secured a young lady who is making all Europe sit upand rub its eyes. I believe I have at last found a match for you, Princeof the Unexpected!"

Shirley held forth his fervent hand, and was surprised at the almostmasculine sincerity with which the delicately gloved fingers returnedthe pressure. He looked into the blue eyes with a challenging scrutiny, and received as frank an answer!

Dick Holloway indulged in an unobserved smile, as he turned to look outof the window, lost for the nonce in mirthful speculation. 

CHAPTER VIII. WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK

"Dick, you can help me further, with your dramatic knowledge. I feel induty bound to tell Miss Marigold that she is risking her life, if shetakes up this task. "

Instead of hesitancy, which Shirley half expected, the girl's faceflushed with quickened interest, and her eyes sparkled with enjoyment ashe unfolded the situation. At the mention of Grimsby, Holloway gruntedwith disgust--it may have been a variety of professional jealousy. Whoknows? However, the problem fascinated the mysterious young woman, whoblushed, in spite of herself, when Shirley put his blunt question toher. 

"And you are willing to assume for a time the character of one of thesestage moths, whom rich men of this type pursue and woo, wine, dine andboast about? Will it interfere with your own work? Any salary arrangedby Mr. Holloway is agreeable, for this unusual task. "

"The game, not the money, is the attraction. I will be ready when youpronounce my cue. "

"Splendid. Dick, will you assist Miss Marigold in selecting anattractive apartment in a theatrical hotel this afternoon. I will callfor her at four-thirty, to take her to tea. She may not know me, atfirst glance: that depends upon the help you give me at the Astor. I will expect you there in an hour. I haven't acted since I left thecollege shows: with a hundred chances to one against my success, even Iam not bored. "

He hurried from the office, and Holloway noted the glow in thegirl's glance which followed his stalwart figure. Holloway was agood tactician: there were reasons why he enjoyed this new role ofmatch-maker de luxe, yet he played his hand far more subtly than atpoker. Which was well!

Ensconced in the Astor, Shirley was soon busy before the cheval glass, from which were suspended three photographs of William Grimsby, obtainedfrom a photographic news syndicate. 

Coat and waistcoat had been removed, as he discriminatingly applied thedry cosmetics with skill which suggested that he had disguised himselffor daylight purposes far more than he would admit. By the time he hadpowdered his thick locks with the white pulverized chalk, and donneda pair of horn-rim glasses of amber tint, his whole personality hadchanged. The similarity was startling to the prototype who was admittedto the room a few minutes later. 

"Why, I beg pardon--I have come to the wrong suite, " were Grimsby'sapologetic words, as he essayed to retreat. 

"You are the first victim of the mirage. Do you like the caricature?"

"Astounding, my friend!" gasped Grimsby, sinking into the chair. Shirleydrew him to the mirror, to make a closer study of the lines of senilityand late hours. A few delicate touches of purple and blue, someretouching of the nostrils, and he drew on the suit provided by hiselder. Dick Holloway was announced, and Shirley ordered some wine and adinner for one! At Grimsby's surprise, Shirley, smiled indulgently. 

"I am selfish--I will have a little supper party by myself, and spareyou in nothing. I want you to eat, to drink, to pour wine, to take outyour wallet, to walk, to sit down, to laugh, to scold! You have a task, sir: I will imitate you move by move! This is a rare experiment. "

"Great Scott! Which is you?" cried Holloway who entered with theburdened waiter. 

"Neither. We're both me!" chuckled the criminologist. "But let meintroduce you to my twin--"

The two men exchanged formalities with an undercurrent of dislike. Shirley lost no time. He compelled the old man to run through his paces, as Holloway criticized each study in miming. Just as the capitalistwould swing his arms, limp with his left leg, shift his head ever solittle, from side to side in his walk, so Shirley copied him. Aword here, an exhortation there, and Shirley improved steadily underHolloway's analytical direction. At last the lesson was ended, with themanager's pronounciamento of "graduation cum lauda. "

"I'll have to star you, Monty, " he declared, as Shirley put on the furgreatcoat of the old man, grasping the gold headed cane, and droopinghis shoulders in a perfect imitation of the other's attitude. 

"Perhaps it will be necessary. The chorus men have invaded society withtheir fox-trots and maxixe steps. We club men will have to counterchargethe enemy, for self-preservation, to play heavy villains upon the stage. Eh?"

He turned toward Grimsby, who was well wearied with the trying ordeal, and evidencing a growing nervousness about his own escape. 

"You know how to leave, according to my plan? Wrap the muffler wellaround the lower part of your face, button this second overcoat closelyabout your neck, and enter the private carriage which I ordered for 'Mr. Lee, ' waiting now at the Forty-fifth Street Side. Then drive leisurelyto the West Forty-second Street Ferry, where you can catch the lateafternoon train for your country place. "

"Good-bye, Mr. Shirley. I have been an old curmudgeon with you, I fear. You have taught this old dog new tricks in several ways, young man. Neither I nor my friends will forget your bravery. They are all out ofthe city by now, according to word from my private secretary. Your fieldis clear. Good luck, sir!"

Shirley and Holloway left the rooms first. Neither addressed the otheron the lift, as it descended to the street level. Holloway casuallyfollowed Monty as he stiffly walked to the big red limousine waiting atthe Forty-fourth Street entrance of the hostelry. The chauffeur sprangout, opening the door with a respectful salute. The disguise wassuccessful!

"Home!" grunted Shirley, sinking back into the car, with collar highabout his neck and the soft hat half concealing his eyes. He scrutinizedthe faces of the passers-by, photographing in that receptive memory ofhis the ugly features of two men, who peered into the limousine fromunder the visors of their black caps. The car sped up town through thebewildering maze of street traffic. The chauffeur helped him up thesteps of the brownstone mansion, while Grimsby's old butler swung openthe glass door, with a helping hand under the feeble arm. 

Shirley puffed and grunted impatiently until he heard the door closebehind him. Then straightening up, he turned upon the startled butler. 

"Well, my man. Go out and tell the chauffeur to leave for the country atonce, as Mr. Grimsby already ordered him to do. "

"My Gawd, sir!" exclaimed the servant, paling perceptibly. "What's comeover you, sir?--Oh, I beg pardon, sir, you're the other gentleman. Youcertainly fooled me, sir--You're bloody brave, sir, to do all this forthe master. Are we in any danger?"

"Not a bit--whatever happens will be outside the house. Just keep up thesecret, as you value your master's life. Go, and tell the man. I mustkill time here in the library, reading until four o'clock. "

Shirley threw aside the greatcoat, and walked to the window of the smallreception room which faced the street, to draw aside the curtains andwatch the chauffeur, as he entered the machine to speed away. A blackautomobile slowly passed the house, bearing two men on the driver'sseat. From under the visors of their black caps they scrutinized thebuilding, to hastily look away as they observed the face at the window. 

Shirley made a note of the number of the machine. He could have swornthat this was the same car which had passed him that morning at dawnwhen the grip was snatched from his hand. 

He returned to the library, where he lost himself in the rare oldvolumes of Grimsby's life collection: the criminologist was a bookloverand the hours drifted by as in a happy playtime, until the butler cameto tell him the time. 

"Great Scott! I must hurry. Call a taxi, for me. I will go to Holloway'soffice to learn where Miss Marigold has been ensconced. "

He sat in the machine before the office building, as he sent thechauffeur up to Dick's office, to inquire for a message to "Mr. Grimsby. " A note was brought down, informing him that the girl awaitedhim in the Hotel California, a few blocks above. The machine started offonce more, and Shirley laughed at the droll situation in which he foundhimself. 

"I wonder who Helene Marigold can be? I wonder what Holloway meantprecisely when he predicted that I would meet my match. I am not seekingone kind--and blue eyes, surrounded by red-gold hair and peaches andcream will not shake my determination. "

But the best laid determinations of bachelor hearts gang aft agley!

Down at the Hotel California, famous for its rare collection ofattractive feminine guests and the manifold breach-of-promise suitswhich had emanated from the palm bedecked entrance, Helene Marigold wasindulging herself in a delighted, albeit highly amused, inspectionof sundry large boxes which had been arriving from shops in theneighborhood. 

"As nearly as I can imagine this must look like the bower of a BroadwayPhryne. All that is missing is a family portrait in crayon of the fatherwho was a coal miner, the presence of a buxom financial genius for thestage mother, and a Chinese chow-dog on a cerise velvet cushion. But whoever attains perfection here below?"

She lifted some filmy gowns which had arrived in the latest parcelto her chin, peering over the sheerness of the lacy cascade, into themirror of the dressing-table. 

"If good old Jack could see me now? Poor, old, stupid, dear, sillyJack! I must write to him at once, for he is largely responsible for mypresent unusual surroundings. How pleased this would not make him, theold dear. "

With the thought, she sat down before the escritoire, dipping a pearland gold pen, as she paused for the words with which to begin the note. Another knock came at the door. It could not be another gown. She hadtold Holloway to keep all her personal baggage at the steamer dockuntil she had finished her lark! At the portal a diminutive messengerdelivered a large white box, ornately bound in lavender ribbons. Whenshe unwrapped it, hidden in the folds of many reams of delicate tissue, she found a gorgeous bunch of orchids. 

"How beautiful! I wonder who could have--" then she found a white card, and read it aloud, with a mirthful peal of laughter. 

"To Lollypop's little Bonbon Tootems--from her foolish old Da-Da!"

Helene turned toward the window, to gaze out over the mysterious, foreign motley array of roofs and obtruding skyscrapers of this curiousdistrict. 

"This mysterious man plays his part with a sense of humor. If only hewill be different and not mean the flowers, ever!"

And she forgot to finish the note which was to have gone to faraway, stupid, dear old Jack. 

Ten minutes later an aged gentleman entered the gorgeous foyer of theHotel California, impatiently presenting his card to the bell-boy, for announcement to Miss Marigold. The lad, true to tradition, quietlyconfided the name to the interested clerk, before doing so. As thevisitor was shown to the elevator, the clerk turned to his assistantwith a nudge. 

"There's the easiest spender of the Lobster Club. That means good tradehere, with this new peach in the crate. These old ginks are hard asBessemer armor-plate in business, but oh, how soft the tumble for a newshade of peroxide. "

"Mr. Grimsby" was soon sitting on the velour divan, at a comfortabledistance from possible eavesdroppers at the door. She was putting thefinishing touches to her preparation for the butterfly role. Shirleyfelt an unexpected thrill at this little intimacy of their relations:the rooms were permeated with the most delicate suggestion of a curiousperfume, which was strange to him. Somehow it fitted her personalityso effectually: for despite the physical appeal of her beauty, now accentuated by the risque costume which she had donned, at theprofessional suggestion of Dick Holloway, there was a pervasivespirituality in the girl's face, her hands, and the tones of her softvoice. 

She turned to smile at him, her dimples playing hide and seek with thewhite pearls beneath the unduly scarlet lip. 

"Isn't this a ripping good situation for a novel?" she began. 

"Yes, too good at present, Miss Marigold. There are too many, importantpeople to be affected for it ever to be given to the public, for theidentities would all be exposed ruthlessly. Besides, no one wouldbelieve it: it seems too improbable, being real life. It will be moreimprobable before we finish the adventure, I suspect. Can I trust yourdiscretion to keep it secret? You know, I have a deal of skepticismabout the best of women. "

Helene reddened under that keen glance, and he saw that he had offendedher. 

"I beg your pardon: I know that we shall work it out together, withabsolute mutual trust. "

Such an earnest vibrance was in his voice that somehow she was remindedof another voice: her mind went back to the neglected letter to Jack. What could have caused her to be so remiss? She would not let herselfdwell on the subject--instead, with a surprising deftness, she caught upShirley's own cue, for a staggering question of her own. 

"Are you sure that you have absolutely confided in me? Did you start atthe beginning, when you told the story to-day. "

"What do you mean?" and Shirley caught the glance sharply. 

"Your unusual rapidity of action, Mr. Shirley, for a mere interestedfriend! It is queer how wonderfully your mind has connected this work, and the various accidental happenings, to evolve this clever ruse inwhich I am to assist. It doesn't seem so amateurish as you would makeit. You seem mysterious to me. "

"Do you think I am the voice? Here is a chance for real detective work, if you can double the game, and capture me?" was the laughing retort. "Idon't believe you trust me. "

The girl stood up before him, and after one deep look, her eyes fellbefore his. Those exquisite lashes sent a tiny flutter through thecase-hardened heart of the club man, despite his desperate determinationto be a Stoic. 

"I do trust you, " the voice was impetuous, almost petulant. "You are areal man: I merely give you credit for being better than the class ofrich young men of whom you pretend to be an absolute type. But there, I waste words and time. Is my costume for this little opera boufesatisfactory to you? Do you like my warpaint and battle armor?"

She stood before him, a glorious bird of paradise. The wanton displayof a maddening curve of slender ankle, through the slash of the clinginggown imparted just the needed allurement to stamp her as a Vestal ofthe temple of Madness. The cunning simplicity of the draping over hershoulders--luminous with the iridiscent gleam of ivory skin beneath, accentuated by the voluptuous beauty of her youthful bosom--the fleetingchange of colors and contours as she slowly turned about in thismaddening soul-trap of silk and laces--all these were not lost on thesenses of Shirley. As the depths of those blue eyes opened before hisgaze, a mad, a ridiculous aching to crush her in his arms, surprisedthe professional consulting criminologist! For this swift instant, allmemory of the Van Cleft case, of every other problem, was driven fromhis mind, as a blinding blast of seething desire surged about him. 

Then the old resolution, the conquering will of the man of one purpose, beat back the flames of this threatening conflagration. His eyesnarrowed, his hands dropped to his side, and he squinted at her with thefrigid dissective gaze of an artist studying the curves of a model. 

"You must rouge your cheeks more, blue your eyelids and redden your lipseven yet. Then be generous with the powder--and that wonderful perfume. "

An inscrutable smile played about the sensitive lips, as Helene turnedto her dressing-table. Shirley stood with his face to the window; he didnot observe it, nor would he have understood its menace to his own peaceof mind. Helene, however, did. She was a woman. 

"May I smoke a cigarette? I am afraid I am almost a fiend, for I seem tocrave the foolish comfort that I imagine they give, in times of nervousdrain. "

"No, Lollypop's little Bonton Tootems enjoys their fragrance. Don'tever ask me again. I have completed the mural decoration with futuristextravagance in the color scheme. My cloak, sir!"

He tossed it about her, and took up his hat and gold-headed stick. Witha final glance at his own careful make-up, he started after her for thestreet. 

"Some chikabiddy!" was the remark of the clerk to the head bell-boy. Thewords reached the ears of Shirley and Helene. Her hand trembled on hisarm as they entered a waiting taxicab. She looked pathetically at him, as she asked. 

"Don't you think I am interested, sincere and loyal, to brave suchremarks as these, and the other worse things they will say before long?I wouldn't dare do this, if I were not sure that no one in America butyou and Mr. Holloway knows me. To wear this horrid stuff on my face--todress in these vulgar clothes--to impersonate such a girl! You know I'mnot nearly as bad as I'm painted!"

Shirley clasped her white-gloved hand and nodded. He was studying thepedestrians for a familiar twain of faces. He was not disappointed, asthe car swung into Broadway. 

"Look--those two men have been following me wherever I have gone. Theyare a pair of old-fashioned pirates. Don't forget their faces!"

CHAPTER IX. IN THE GARDEN OF TEMPTATION

Their destination, one of the score of tango tea-rooms which had sprungto mushroom popularity within the year, was soon reached. Leaningheavily upon his stick, limping like his aged model, and splutteringimpatiently, Shirley was assisted by the uniformed door man into thelobby. Helene followed meekly. Four hat boys from the check-room madethe conventional scramble for his greatcoat, hat and stick, nearlyupsetting him in their eagerness. Then Shirley led the way into the halflight of the tropical, indoor garden, picking a way through the tablesto a distant wall seat, embowered with electric grapes and artificialvines. 

"Sit down, my darling child, " said the pseudo Grimsby, as he droppedinto a seat behind the table, which was protected from the lights, andfurthest away from any possible visitors. "We are early, avoiding thecrush. Soon the crowd will be here. We must have some champagne at once, to assist me in my defensive tactics. You will have to do most of thetalking. Remember, we are going to the Winter Garden musical review whenwe leave here: you may tell this to whom you will. "

Helene looked about curiously, as the big tea-room began to fill withits usual late afternoon crowd of patrons, --young, old and indeterminatein age. Women of maturely years, young misses from "finishing" schools, demimondaine, social "bounders" deluded by the glitter of their ownjewelry and the thrill of their wasted money that they were climbinginto New York society--these and other curious types rubbed elbows inthis melting pot of folly. The tinkle of glasses, the increasing buzzof conversation, the empty laughter of too many emptied cocktail glassesmingled with the droning music of an Hawaiian string quartette in thefar corner. 

Suddenly, with banging tampani and the crash of cymbals, rattle oftambourines and beating of tomtoms, the barbaric Ethiopians of thedancing orchestra began their syncopated outrages against every knownlaw of harmony--swinging weirdly into the bewitching, tickling, tinglingrhythm of a maxixe. 

"How strange!" murmured Helene, as the waiter brought them somechampagne and indigestible pastries--the true ingredients of 'dansantthe'. 

"Yes, on with the dance-let joy be unrefined! The fall of the RomanEmpire was the bounce of a rubber nursery ball, compared with this NewYork avalanche of luxurious satiation! Now, my child, old Da-da, isgoing to become too intoxicated to talk three words to any of thesegallants and their lassies. Grimsby did not write a monologue for me, so I must pantomime: you will have to carry the speaking part of ourplaylet. Flatter them--but don't leave my side to dance!"

The first bottle of wine had been carried away by the waiter, (halfemptied it is true, ) as he filled a second order. Shirley shielded hisface beneath a drooping spray of artificial blooms from the top oftheir wallbower. Several young men were approaching them, and thecriminologist noted with relief that they evidenced their afternoonlibations even so early. Eyes dulled with over-stimulus were the lessanalytical. Chance was favoring him. The newcomers were garbed in thatdebonair and "cultured" modishness so dear to the hearts of magazineillustrators. Faces, weak with sunken cheek lines, strong in creasesof selfishness, darkened by the brush strokes of nocturnal excesses andseared, all of them with the brand mark of inbred rascality, identifiedthem to Shirley as members of that shrewd class of sycophants who feaston the follies of the more amateurish moths of the Broadway Candles. 

"Hello, old pop Grimsby!"

"You're in the dark of the moon, Grimmie! I couldn't make you out butfor those horn rimmed head lights. "

"Welcome to the joy-parlor, old scout. "

The greetings of the juvenile buzzards varied only in phraseology: theirportent was identical: "Open wine. "

"Poor Mr Grimsby is so ill this afternoon, but sit down and havesomething with us, " volunteered Helene tremulously. 

The bees gathered about the table to feast on the vinous honey, whileShirley, mumbling a few words, maintained his partial obscurity, withone hand to his forehead. 

"Fine boysh, m'deah. Boysh, meet little Bonbon--my protashsh!"

Little Bonbon was a pronounced attraction. Her vivacious charm drew theeyes away from Shirley, who studied the expressions of the weasel facesabout him. The girl's heart sickened under the brutal frankness of adozen calculating eyes, yet she valiantly maintained her part, while Shirley marveled at her clever simulation of silly, giggly, semi-intoxication. One youth deserted them to disappear throughthe distant dining room entrance. The comments about the table wereinteresting to the keen-eared masquerader. 

"Old Grimsby's picked a live one, this time!"--"What show is shewith?"--"Won't Pinkie be sore?" The criminologist was not left to wonderas to the identity of "Pinkie, " for an older man, walking behind ared-headed girl in a luridly modern gown, approached the table with theabsent guest. The men were talking earnestly, the girl staring angrilyat Shirley's, beautiful companion. 

"Hey, here come's Reggie! Sit down, Reg. Pop has passed away, but hiscredit is still strong. "

"There's Pinkie--come, my dear, and join the Ladies' Aid Society andhave a lemonade, " jested another youth, making a place for the girl inthe aisle. 

Pinkie's dark-haired companion sank somewhat unsteadily into a chairnext the girl. He frowned and rubbed his forehead, as though to clearhis mind for needed concentration. He shook Shirley's arm, and spokesharply. 

"Look up; Grimmie. I never saw you feel your wine so early in theafternoon. It was a lucky day for me on Wall Street, so I celebratedmyself. You are here earlier than usual. Everybody have some champagnewith me. "

As he beckoned to the waiter, the red-haired girl bestowed a murderouslook upon Helene, who was sniffing some flowers which she had drawn fromthe vase on the table. 

"Who's that Jane?" she demanded, her voice-shaking with jealousy. "Grimmie, you act as if you were doped. Introduce us to your swellfriend. Wake him, Reg Warren. "

Helene's jeweled white hand protected the safety-first dozing of hercompanion, as, through the interstices of his fingers, he studied theinscrutable difference between the face of Warren and the other youthsabout them. 

"Let Pop dream of a new way to make a million!" laughed one young man. "His money grows while he sleeps. "

"Yes, let him dream on, " laughed Helene, with a shrill giggle. "When hemakes that extra million he can star me on Broadway, in my own show. He, he!"

"You'll have to spend half of it at John the Barber's getting your voicemarceled and your face manicured, " snarled Pinkie. "Come, Reg, and dancewith me: these bounders bore me. "

"Run along, Pinkie, and fox-trot your grouch away with Shine Taylor. Here comes the wine I ordered--What's your name, girlie? Where did youmeet Grimsby?"

"Oh, we're old friends, " and Helene maliciously spilled a bottle overthe interrogator's waistcoat, as she reached forward to shake his hand. "My name's Bonbon, you wouldn't believe me if I told you my real name, anyway. Who are you?"

"I'm not Neptune, " he retorted, as he mopped the bubbles with a napkin. "You've started in badly. " Shirley mentally disagreed. His stupor stillobsessed him, but he noted with interest that Warren paid the checkfor his bottle with a new one-hundred dollar bill. Warren could elicitnothing from Helene but silly laughter, and so he arose impatiently, as Shine Taylor returned to whisper something in his ear. "I must begetting back to my apartment. Bring Grimsby up to it to-night: a littlebromo will bring him back to the land of the living. I'll have a jollycrowd there--top floor of the Somerset, on Fifty-sixth Street, you know, near Sixth Avenue. Come up after the show. "

"We're going to the Winter Garden, " suggested Helene, at a nudge fromShirley, and Warren nodded. 

"I'll try to see you later, anyway. Goodbye!"

Losing interest in the proceedings, as the time for reckoning the billapproached, the other gallants followed these two. Alone, again, Shirleyordered some black coffee, and smiled at his assistant. 

"He told the truth for once. "

"What do you mean?"

"He will try to see us later. That man is a member of the murderousclan whom we seek. 'To-night is the night' for the exit of WilliamGrimsby--but, perhaps we may have a stage wait which will surprisethem. "

Gradually the guests thinned out in the tea-room, but Shirley cautiouslywaited until the last. 

"Do you believe these young men are all members of the gang?" asked thegirl. "Why do you suppose these men are all criminals? They surely looka bad lot. "

"There are two general reasons why men go wrong. One is hard luck, aidedby tempting opportunity--they hope to make a success out of failure, andthen keep on the straight path for the rest of their lives. Such menare the absconders, the forgers, the bank-wreckers, and even the pettythieves. But once branded with the prison bars and stripes, they seldomfind it possible to turn against the tide in which they find themselves:so they become habitual offenders. They are the easiest criminals todetect. The second class are the born crooks, who are lazy, sharp-wittedand without enough will-power to battle against the problems ofhonesty in work. It is easy enough to succeed if a man is clever andunscrupulous without a shred of generosity. The hard problem is to beaffectionate, human, and conquer every-day battles by remaining activelyhonest, when your rivals are not straight. The born crook is safer fromprison than the weakling of the first class. " He looked down at thecoffee, and then continued. 

"I do not believe all these young men are in this curious plot. They aremerely the small fry of the fishing banks: they are petty rascals, withoccasional big game. But somewhere, behind this sinister machine, is aguiding hand on the throttle, a brain which is profound, an eye whichis all-seeing and a heart as cold as an Antartic mountain. There is theexceptional type of criminal who is greedy--for money and its luxuriouspossibilities; selfish--with regard for no other heart in the world;crafty--with the cunning of an Apache, enjoying the thrill of crime andcruelty; refined and vainglorious--with pride in his skill to thwartjustice and confidence in his ability to continually broaden the scopeof his work. Crime is the ruling passion of this unknown man. And theway to catch him is by using that passion as a bait upon the hook. Iam the wriggling little angle worm who will dangle before his eyesto-night. But I do not expect to land him--I merely purpose to learn hisidentity, to draw the net of the law about him, in such a way as to keepthe Grimsby and Van Cleft names from the case. "

"And how can that be done?"

"That, young lady, is my 'fatal secret. ' The subplot developing withinmy mind is still nebulous with me, --you would lose all interest, aswould I, if you knew what was going to happen. But the time has passed, and now we can go to the theatre. I bought the tickets by messengerthis afternoon. I will let you do the talking to the chauffeur and theusher. "

They left the tea-room, the last guests out. 

It was a touching sight to see the elderly gentleman supported on oneside by a fat French waiter, and on the opposite, by the solicitousgirl. The old Civil War wound was unusually troublesome. 

CHAPTER X. WHEN IT'S DARK IN THE PARK

At the entrance of the restaurant the starter tooted his shrill whistle, and a driver began to crank his automobile in the waiting line of cars. According to the rules of the taxi stands he was next in order. But, asis frequently the custom in the hotly contested district of "good fares"another car "cut in" from across the street. This taxi swung quicklyaround and drew up before the waiting criminologist. 

Grunting and mumbling, as though still deep in his cups, Monty allowedhimself to be half pushed, half lifted into the car by the attendant. Helene followed him. "Winter Garden, " she directed, and the machine spedaway, while the thwarted driver in the rear sent a volley of anathemasafter his successful competitor. 

Shirley scrutinized the interior of the machine, but there seemednothing to distinguish it from the thousands of other piratical craftwhich pillage the public with the aid of the taximeter clock on theport beam! Soon they were at the big Broadway playhouse, where Shirleyfloundered out first, after the ungallant manner of many sere-and-yellowbeaux. He swayed unsteadily, teetering on his cane, as Helene leapedlightly to the sidewalk beside him. The driver stood by the door of thecar, leering at him. 

"Here, keep the change, " and Shirley handed him a generous bill. 

"Shall I wait fer ye, gov'nor? I ain't got no call to-night. I'll bearound here all evening. "

The criminologist nodded, and the chauffeur handed Helene the carriagenumber check. 

"Don't let 'em steal de old gink, inside, girlie. He's strong fer dechorus chickens. "

Helene shuddered before the hawk-like glare of his malevolent eyes, butin her part, she shook her head with a laugh, and followed airily afterher escort. 

"Good-evening, sir. Back again to-night, I see, " volunteered the tickettaker, to whom William Grimsby was a familiar visitant. Shirley reeledwith steadied and studied equilibrium, into the foyer of the theatre, as he nodded. Their seats were purposely in the rear of a side box, wellprotected from the audience by the holders of the front positions. Thecriminologist appeared to relapse into dreams of bygone days, while hiscompanion peered into the vast audience and then at the nimble limbedchorus on the stage with piquant curiosity. 

"For years I wanted to see an American stage and an American audience, "she confided in an undertone, "and to think that when I do so, it isacting myself, on the other side of the footlights in a stranger, moredramatic part than any one else in the theatre. A curious world, isn'tit?"

Shirley breathed deeply, drinking in the maddening perfume of herglorious hair, so perilously near his own face. The shimmer of hershoulders, the adorable curves of that enticing scarlet mouth murmuringso near his own, and yet so far away, in this soul-racking game ofmake-believe, stirred his blood as nothing else had done in all thekalaediscopic years. 

"Yes, a more than curious world. How things have changed since lastevening when I planned a sleepy evening at the opera. I wonder what theoutcome will be?"

Helene looked up at him quickly, then as suddenly toward the Russiandanseuse within the golden frame of the great proscenium. The orchestra, with its maddening Slavic music, stirred her pulses with a strangetelepathy. The evening wore along, until the final curtain. Shirley, with cumbersome effort helped her with her cloak, dropping his hat andstick more than once in simulated awkwardness. The electric numerals ofthe carriage call soon brought the grimy-faced chauffeur. 

"Jack on the spot, gov'nor, that's me!" and he swung the door open. 

"We'll go get some supper--no, we'll take little 'scursion in CentralPark, first, " and his voice was thick, "correct, cabbie. Drive us shruCentral Park. "

"Are you going to take a chance in a dark park?" Helene asked him, as they sat within the car, while the chauffeur cranked. Shirley wassharply observing the man. A pedestrian crossed directly in front of themachine, brushing against the driver, as he fumbled with the lamp. Ifthere were an interchange of words, the criminologist could not detectit. 

"Surely. The park is good. We can be free of interference from thepolice. Are you afraid?"

"No--" yet, it was a pardonably weak little voice which uttered thevaliant monosyllable. 

"Here, Miss Marigold. Take this revolver. Don't use it until you haveto, but then don't hesitate a second. "

The machine started slowly up the street. Shirley groped about thesides and bottom of the car, to make sure that no one could be concealedwithin it. They were advancing up Broadway in leisurely fashion. Itmight have been for the purpose of allowing some to follow. Shirleywondered, then sniffed the air suspiciously. The girl looked at him witha silent question. 

"Quick, tear off your glove and let me have that diamond ring I noticedon your finger, the large solitaire, not the dinner ring. "

Unquestioningly she obeyed. There was a strange Oriental odor in thecar--suggestive of an incense. The car was gliding up Central Park West, toward one of the road entrances into the Park proper. Shirley's handclutched the ring, tensely. The driver, tactfully looking straight tothe front, gave no heed to the occupants of the Death Car. He was, bythis time speeding too rapidly for either of his passengers to haveleaped out without injury. Shirley understood the smoothness of thevoice's system, by now. His hand slid to the top of the glass door pane, on the right. Down the glass, across the bottom, down from the othercorner, and then over the top line, he cut with the diamond, using apeculiar pressure. He rose to his feet, gave the lower part of the panea sharp tap. The glass, practically cut loose from its case, nowdropped and would have slid out to the roadway with a crash had he notdexterously caught it, to draw it into the car. Quickly he repeatedthe operation with the door pane at the left. A nauseating, weakeningsomething in the car sent Helene's head spinning; she choked for breathand lay back weakly, despite her will. Shirley turned to the small glasssquare in the rear. This came out more easily. He lay the glass with theothers, on the floor of the car. The good clear air whirled through theopenings, reviving the girl. 

"Keep your eyes open, and that revolver ready. Now is the time. Pretendto sleep. "

Shirley had drawn his own automatic by this time, and he realized thatthe machine was slowing down. The chauffeur, as they passed a walklight, looked back, observing that the two were apparently unconscious. He slowed down still more, and tooted his horn three times. A largetouring car passed them, to stop some distance ahead. Then it sped on, as Shirley's taxi followed lazily. 

A figure suddenly came out of the darkness of the road. The driverstopped the taxi, and walked around the front, as though to adjust thelamp. The door opened slowly. A face covered with a black handkerchiefobtruded. A hand slid up the detective's knee, along his side toward theabdomen, and a protruding thumb began a singular pressure directly belowthe criminologist's heart. Shirley's analysis for Dr. MacDonald had beencorrect! But jiu-jitsu is essentially a game for two. 

Shirley's left hand suddenly shot forth to the neck of his assailant. His muscular fingers closed in a deft and vice-like pinch directly belowthe silk handkerchief. It was the pneumogastric nerve, which he reached:a nerve which, when deadened by Oriental skill, paralyzes the vocalchords. Not a sound emanated from the mysterious man, even whenShirley's right hand shot forward, under the chin of the other, for adeft blow across the thorax. The other tumbled backward. 

"What's wrong, Chief? Too much gas?" cried the chauffeur rushing tothe side of the fallen man. As the driver dropped to his knees, Shirleyflung himself like a tiger upon the rascal's back. The struggle wasbrief--the same silent silencer accomplished its purpose. Before theman knew what had happened to him, he was dragged inside the car, andanother deft pinch sent him to oblivion!

"Hit him over the forehead with the butt of the revolver if he opens hismouth, " grunted Shirley. "This is the chauffeur, now I'll get the otherone. "

Just then a cry came from the darkness: it was a passing patrolman. 

"What you doing in that auto?"

But Shirley waited for no parley-explanations, showing his hand, layingthe whole scandal before the morning edition of the newspapers, were allout of question now. He must take up the pursuit later. He caught up, the chauffeur's cap, sprang into the driver's seat, and the car shotforward like a race horse as he threw forward the lever. The astonishedpoliceman was within twenty-five yards of the spot, when the autodisappeared in the darkness. He pursued it vainly. 

A few moments later, a man with a handkerchief across his face, groanedand then raised himself on his elbow, there in the roadway. He could notremember where he was, nor why. Slowly he crawled on hands andknees, into the rhododendrons by the roadside, where he again lostconsciousness. 

A big touring car rounded the curve of the roadway. 

"Not a sign of the Chief, " said the driver. "He must have gone back tothe garage with the Monk. But that's a fool idea. Let's get down thereright away. "

The injured man's memory returned, and he rose stiffly to his feet. He limped out of the Park, putting away the handkerchief, mutteringprofanity and trying to fathom the mystery. As nearly as he could reasonit out, he must have been struck by another machine from the rear. 

Far up in the northernmost driveway of the Park, where shrub grown banksand rocky uplands shelter the thoroughfares, Shirley stopped his runawaytaxicab. 

"Let me have his rubber coat, for I'm going to hide this car out on LongIsland. It's a long ride, but this man and his machine will disappear ascompletely as though they had been dumped in the ocean. "

Shirley manacled the prisoner, and gagged him with a tightly knottedhandkerchief. He put the greatcoat of Grimsby's about Helene'sshoulders, as he brought her to the front seat of the machine. Then heshut the doors on the prisoner, and drove the automobile out through theEasterly entrance of the park. 

"I'm not really brave, Mr. Montague, " said the tired voice at his side. "I'm so glad I'm sitting by you, instead of back inside. We will be homesoon, won't we? I'm so exhausted--my first day in a strange country, youknow. "

Shirley, with the skill of a racing expert, guided the machine throughthe maze of streets toward the Bridge over the East River. The touch ofthat sweet shoulder, as it unconsciously nestled against his own, sentthrough him a tremor which he had not experienced during the weirdsilent battle in the dark. 

"A strange night, in a strange country. Are you sorry you tried it?"

With a sidelong glance, he caught the starry light in her eyes as shelooked up at him: there seemed more than the mere reflection of passingstreet lamps. 

"A wonderful night: I'm glad, so glad, not sorry, " was her dreamyresponse. She lapsed into silence as the somnolent drone of the motorand the whirr of the wheels caused the tired eyes to close sleepily. 

When he looked at her again, as they were speeding down the bridgePlaza in Long Island City, she was dozing. The drowsy head touchedhis shoulder; she seemed like a child, worn out with games, trustinglyasleep in the care of a big, strong brother. 

CHAPTER XI. A TURN IN THE TRAIL

Helene was still asleep when Shirley stopped the engine of the taxibefore a stately Colonial mansion seated back among the pines of abeautiful Long Island estate. They had been driving for more than anhour. The girl stirred languorously as he strove to awaken her. Shemurmured drowsily:

"No, Jack, dear. Emphatically no. Let's not talk about it any more, dearboy. "

"Who can Jack be?" and a surprising pang shot through Montague Shirley'sheart. "Jack, dear! Well, and what's it my business. She is a stranger. She lives her life and I mine. But, at any rate, that settles some sillythings I've been thinking. I'm less awake than she is. "

This time he tried with better success, and Helene rubbed her eyes, withhands stiffened by the brisk bite of the chill wind. She gazed at thedimly lit house, at the big figure beside her, as Shirley sprang to theground--then remembered it all, and trembled despite herself. 

"Oh, it's you, Mr. Shirley, " and she summoned up a little throaty laugh, as she arose stiffly. "What a queer place to be in!"

"We are a long way from New York's white lights, Miss Marigold. This isthe country home of a good old friend of mine. You can remain here forthe rest of the night, as his wife's guest. To-morrow, when you arerested, he can send you to the city in one of his cars. "

"You are the most curious man in two continents. I am bewildered. First, you kidnap a chauffeur and privateer his car, then me. Now you besiege afriend and wish to leave me on his doorstep as a foundling. "

"I'm sorry--it's the exigency of war! We must finish what we started. This is the only place I know where I could thoroughly hide my trail. Wemust wake up Jim, but first I will have a look at our guest. "

Shirley walked around the car, shooting the beam from his pocketflashlight in through the open window of the taxi, to be met bythe wicked black eyes of his prisoner, who uttered volumes ofunpronounceable hatred. 

"You are still with us, little bright eyes. A pleasant trip, I trust? Ihope you found the air good--I tried to improve the ventilation for yourbenefit, as well as my own. " Only a subdued gurgle answered him. 

"Oh, what will they think of me--in this immodest gown, with this painton my face, and at this hour of night?" pleaded Helene, as he startedtoward the door of the mansion. 

"It would be awful at that, " and Shirley paused at the beseeching toneof the girl. "I want you to meet Mrs. Jim as well as Jim. I am afraidthey would think this was the echo of an old college escapade, andmisjudge you. Let me think--"

He led her to a little summer-house close by, and tucked the big coatabout her as he added: "It's dark here--the wind doesn't reach you, andI'll take you back to town in five minutes. Will that do?"

As she nodded, he hurried to the door where he yanked vigorously at thebell. An angry head protruded from an upper story, after many encores ofthe peals. 

"Aw, what the dickens? Go some place else and find out!"

"Jim, Jim. It's Monty! Come down and let me in quick. "

The window closed with a bang as the head was withdrawn, while a lightsoon appeared in the beveled panes of the big front door. 

"You poor boob, " was the cheerful greeting as it swung wide, "Whatbrings you out here? I thought it was the usual joy party which had lostits way. They always pick me out for an information bureau. Come on in!"

Shirley spoke rapidly, in a low tone. The girl in the dark summer-housemarveled at the rapid change of mien, as Jim suddenly ran down the stepsto gaze into the taxicab, then nodding to Shirley. The house-holderas promptly returned through his front door, while Shirley swiftlyunmanacled the prisoner enough to let him walk, stiff and awkward fromthe long ordeal in the car. The stern grip, of his captor promptedobedience. 

Friend Jim had appeared with warmer garments, carrying a lantern. At thedoor of the stable Jim's stentorian yell to the groom seemed useless, but the two men entered. Helene felt miserably weak and deserted, inthe chill night, but she was cheered by seeing the energetic Shirleyreappear, pushing open the doors of the garage, which was connected withthe stable. He hurried to the deserted taxicab, where he seemed busiedfor several minutes, the glow of his pocket lamp shooting out now andthen. Through the door of the garage a long, rakish-looking racing carwas being pushed out by Jim and his sleepy groom. There was a cheeryshout from the taxi, and Helene heard a ripping sound. Shirleyreappeared, carrying an oblong box. 

"I have the gas generator:--it was built in, under the seat, andcontrolled by a battery wire from the front lamp, Jim. A nice littlemechanism. Well, old pal, please apologize to Mrs. Merrivale for my rudeinterruption of her beauty sleep. Keep a fatherly eye on Gentleman Mike, and the taxicab under cover. I'll communicate with you very soon. Solong. "

To Helene's amazement, Shirley cranked the racer, jumped in and seemedto be starting away without her, down the sweep of the driveway. Couldhe have forgotten her? The man must indeed be mad, as some of hisactions indicated! But her aroused indignation was turned to admirationof his finesse, for suddenly he veered the lights of the car towardthe garage door, throwing them in the faces of Jim and his servant. Heleaped out again, walking past the place of concealment. 

"Slip into the car, while I go inside with them. I'll come out on therun, and no one will be the wiser. "

With this passing stage direction he rushed toward his accomodatingfriend, with some final directions. They were apparently humorous incontent, for both the other men roared with mirth, as he walked insidethe building, with them, an arm around the shoulder of each. Heleneobeyed him, hiding as best she could in the low seat of the throbbingmachine. As Shirley returned, Jim Merrivale was still laughing blithely. 

"Good-bye, you old maniac: you'll be the death of me. I'll take care ofthe star boarder, however, and feed him champagne and mushrooms. "

With a roar, Shirley started the engines, as he bounced into the seat, and they sped down the curving driveway, with Helene leaning forward, unobserved. 

"There, we've had a little by-play that friend Jim didn't guess. Ialways enjoy a little intrigue, " he laughed, as they whizzed alongtoward distant New York. "But, I had to lie, and lie, and lie--like thelight that lies in women's eyes. What a jolly game!"

He was a big boy, happy in the excitement, and bubbling with hissuperabundance of vitality. Helene felt curiously drawn toward him, inthis mood: she remembered a little paragraph she had read in a book thatday:

"A woman loves a man for the boy spirit that she discovers in him: sheloves him out of pity when it dies!" Then she fearsomely changed thecurrent of her thoughts, to complain pathetically of the cold wind!

"There, now, I am so thoughtless, " was his apology, as he stoppedthe car, to wrap the overcoat more closely about her, and tuck hercomfortably in a big fur. Through the darkened streets of the suburbthey raced, entering the silent factory districts, which presaged thenearness of the river. It was well on toward daybreak before they rolledover the Queensboro Bridge to Manhattan. It was his second day withoutsleep, but Shirley was sustained by the bizarre nature of the exploit:he could have kept at the steering wheel for an eternity. 

"Are you glad we're getting back?" he asked. Helene shook her head, thenshe answered dreamily. 

"Do you remember something from one of Browning's poems, that I do? It'sjust silly for us, but I understand it better now. "

Shirley surprised her by quoting it, as he looked ahead into the darkstreet through which they swung, his unswerving hand steady on thewheel:

 "What if we still ride on, we two, With life forever old yet new, Changed not in kind, but in degree, The instant made eternity, -- And heaven just prove that I and she Ride, ride together, forever ride?"

A quick flush, not caused by the biting wind, suffused her cheek beneaththe remnants of the rouge. Then she laughed up at him appreciatively. 

"Curious how our minds ran that way, and hit the very same poem, wasn'tit?"

Shirley smiled back, as he swung down Fifth Avenue. 

"Not so curious after all!"

Soon they drew up before the ornate portal of the California Hotel, where late arrivals were so customary as to cause no comment. He badeher good-night, words seeming futile after their long hours together. The drive in the car to the club was short. Paddy the door man wasinstructed to send down to Shirley's own garage for a mechanic to storethe car until further orders. The criminologist had ere this rubbed offhis grease paint, so that his appearance was not unusual. Once in hisrooms he treated himself to a piping hot shower, cleaned off the powderfrom his dark locks, and as he smoked a soothing cigarette, in hisbathrobe, studied the mechanism of the gas generator for a few moments. 

"That was made by an expert who understands infernal machines with amalevolent genius. I must look out for him, " he mused. "Well, I promisedProfessor MacDonald that I would not sleep until I had come face to facewith the voice. I have fulfilled the vow: now for forgetfulness. "

He tumbled into bed, but not to oblivion. For his dreams were disturbedby tantalizing visions of certain sun-gold locks and blue eyes not atall in their simple connection with the business end of the Van Cleftmystery. 

CHAPTER XII. THE HAND OF THE VOICE

It took stoicism to the Nth degree for Shirley to respond to the earlytelephone call next morning, from the clerk of the club. A few minutesof violent exercise, in the hand ball court, the plunge, a short swim inthe natatorium and a rub down from the Swedish masseur, however, broughthim around to the mood for another adventure. Sending for the racingcar he began the round-up of details. There was, first of all, CaptainCronin to be visited in Bellevue. Here he was agreeably surprised tofind the detective chief recuperating with the abettance of his ruggedCeltic physique. The nurse told Shirley that another day's treatmentwould allow the Captain to return to his own home: Shirley knew thismeant the executive office of the Holland Detective Agency. 

"And sure, Monty, when I have a free foot once again, I'm going to applyit to them gangsters who put me to sleep. "

"Just what I want you to do, Captain! I 'phoned to your men this morningwhile I had breakfast at the club: they have that taxicab which was leftnear Van Cleft's house. It's put away safely, Cleary said. There are twogangsters where the dogs won't bite them; today they are sending out toJim Merrivale's house to get the third and he'll be busy with a littleprivate third degree. I have no evidence which would connect the manwho tried to kill me last night with the other murders, except in acircumstantial way. What I must do is to follow up the trail, and getthe gentleman carrying out the bales, in other words, with the goods onhim. "

"You'll get him, Monty, if I know you. The fellow hasn't called up atall on the telephone to-day. I think he's afraid of you. "

"No, Captain Cronin, not that! He's up to some new game. Well, I'moff--take care of yourself and don't eat anything the nurse doesn'tbring you with her own hands. I wouldn't put anything past this gang. "

He shook hands and hurried out of the hospital, with several moreerrands to complete. He looked vainly about him for the gray racing-car. It was gone! Here was another unexpected interference with his work, andShirley, sotto voce, expressed himself more practically than politely. He hurried to an ambulance driver who stood in a doorway, solacing hisjangled nerves with a corn-cob smoke. 

"Neighbor, did you see any one take the gray car standing here a fewminutes ago?"

"Yep, a feller just came out of the hospital entry, cranked her andjumped in. "

"How long ago?"

"Well, I just returned with a suicide actor case five minutes ago. "

"Then you might have seen him enter first?"

"Nope. Not a sign. All I seen was the way he cranked the machine, andhe didn't waste any elbow grease doin' it, either. He knew the trick. That's what I thought when I seen him, even if he did look like a dude. "

Shirley hurried to the entry once more. This was the only portal throughwhich visitors were admitted to the hospital for the purpose of callingon patients. He hastened to the uniformed attendant who took down thenames of all applicants. This man, upon inquiry, was a trifle dubious. True, there had been two Italian women and before them--yes, there hadbeen a young chap with a green velour hat, and white spats. He had askedabout a Captain Cronin, and when told that a visitor was already seeingthe patient, agreed to wait outside. It had been about five minutesbefore. The man was indefinite about more details. Shirley hurried tothe telephone booth in the corridor. To Headquarters he reported thetheft of car "99835 N. Y. , " giving a description of its special featuresand its make. This warning he knew would be telephoned to all stationswithin five minutes, so that every policeman in New York would be onthe lookout for the missing machine. Satisfied, he left the hospital, towalk across the long block to the nearest north and south avenue, wherehe might catch a surface car. 

Suddenly he halted, to mutter in astonishment at a sight which was thesurprise of the morning: it was the missing car standing peacefully onthe next corner. 

"I wonder what that means?" he murmured, as he stopped to study withgreat interest the window of an Italian green grocer. A sidelong glanceat the car and its surroundings revealed nothing out of the way. Heretraced his steps to the hospital, wasted ten minutes with a cigaretteor two, and still no one seemed to take an interest in the automobile. Finally he walked up to the car, trying the lock of which he had theonly key. Apparently it had been untampered with, for the key workedperfectly. Here was Jim Merrivale's car, a good three hundred yards awayfrom the place where he had locked it to prevent any moving. He feltcertain that keen eyes had him under surveillance, yet he could notobserve any observers within the range of his own vision. It was simplya stupid, quiet slum neighborhood and at the time, unusually deserted bythe customary hordes of children and dogs!

What had been the purpose in moving it such a short distance?

Where had it been in the twenty-five minutes since he had left it at theentrance to the hospital?

Why had it been left here, of all places, where he would naturally walkif desirous of taking a street-car?

There seemed no immediate answer to the conundrums. So, he nonchalantlyclambered into the car, after cranking it. The mechanism seemed inperfect order. Puzzled, he started to speed up the street, when heobserved a white envelope close by his foot, on the floor of the car. 

He picked it up, and tearing it open quickly read this simple message. 

"To whom it may concern: It is frequently advisable to mind your ownbusiness--is it not? Answer: Yes!"

"Huh, " grunted Shirley. "While not thrilling in originality, it is alasting truth which nobody can deny. I'll save this and frame it on thewalls of my rooms. "

As he drove around the corner and up the Avenue, there was suddenly aterrific explosion, which threw him completely out of the machine!The car, without a driver, its engines whirring madly, dashed into ahelpless corner fruit stand, scattering oranges, bananas, apples anddesolation in its wake, as it vainly endeavored to climb to the secondstory with super-mechanical intelligence! Shirley, stunned and bruised, fell to the pavement where he lay until an excited patrolman rushed tohis rescue. 

A little "first aid" work brought Shirley back to consciousness, and hestiffly rose to his feet, with a head throbbing too much for any realthinking. 

"What's the matter with your auto?" cried the policeman. "Can't you runit? Let's see the number. " The officer took out his notebook, to jotdown the details according to police rules. Then he turned on Shirley inamazement. "Be gorry, it's car 99835 N. Y. I just wrote the number downwhen I came on post with my squad! This car is stolen. You come withme!"

Shirley had been adjusting the mechanism, and the wheels had ceasedtheir whirring. He tried to expostulate in a dazed way, realizing thatfor once the department was working with a vengeful promptness. He washoist by his own petard!

"I'm the owner of the car, " he began, rubbing his aching forehead. 

"What's yer name?"

"Montague Shirley!" The policeman laughed, as he caught thecriminologist by the shoulder, and blew his whistle for another man frompost duty. 

"You lie. This car is owned by James Merrivale. You can't put overraw stuff like that on me. I'm no rookie--Here, Joe, " (as the otherpoliceman ran up through the growing, jeering crowd, ) "watch thismachine. This guy's one of them auto Raffles, and I done a good job whenI lands him. I'm going to the station-house now. "

The other policeman was examining the car, when he called to his fellowofficer: "Here, Sim, did you see this car was blown up inside the seat?"

Shirley, his acuteness returned by this time, ran to the car eluding hiscaptor's hold. He had not observed before the jagged shattered hole tornin the side of the leather side. It had all happened so swiftly, thathis professional instincts were slow in reasserting themselves after the"buck" of the car. 

"You're right, " he exclaimed. "There's an alarm clock and a drybattery--the same man made this who built the gas-generator--"

"Whadd'ye mean--ain't you the feller after all?" asked the firstpatrolman, beginning to get dubious about his arrest. 

"No, I am no thief. But just take me to the station-house quick, andturn in your report. Let this other man guard that car. Hurry up!"

"Say, feller, who do you think is making this arrest? You'll go to thestation-house when I get ready. "

"Then you're ready now, " snapped the criminologist. "You'll see medischarged very promptly, when I speak to the Commissioner over thewire. "

The officer was supercilious until the station-house was reached. Hehad heard this blatant talk before. What was his surprise when Shirleytelephoned to the head of the Department and then called the Captain tothe instrument. 

"Release Mr. Shirley at once, " was the crisp order. "Give him any men orassistance he needs. "

"Well, whadd'ye know about that? Not even entered on the blotter tocredit me with a good arrest!" The patrolman turned away in disgust. 

"Do you want any of the reserves, sir?" The Captain was scrupulouslypolite. 

"Not one. I'm going to study that machine again. You might detail aplain clothes man to walk along the other side of the street for luck. Good-day. "

The automobile to which he returned was still the object of communityinterest. Shirley took the remains of the bomb which had caused hissudden elevation. The policeman approached him from the fruit store. 

"The man wants damages for the stock you destroyed, mister. I'll fix itup with him if you want--about twenty-five dollars will do. "

"Well, hand him this five-dollar bill and see if that won't dry some ofthe imported tears, " retorted Shirley with a laugh. In a few minutes hewas bowling along on a surface car, to the club. There was no longer anyuse in trying to hide his identity or address, for the conspirators knewat least of his interest and assistance in the case: although in this asall others he was not known to be a professional sleuth. 

In the quiet of his room he drew out magnifying glasses and otherinstruments for a thorough analysis of the remains of the infernalmachine. He compared this with the mechanism of the gas-generator whichhad been placed in the seat of the Death taxi. There was evidence thatit had come from the same source. Shirley sniffed at the generator andthe peculiar odor still clinging to it was familiar. 

"Well, I think I will have a little surprise for Mr. Voice, the nexttime we grapple, which will be an encore of his own tune, with a newverse!"

He went to a cabinet, took out a small glass vial, filled with a limpidliquid and placed it within his own pocket. Then he prepared for a newline of activities for the day. His first duty was a call on Pat Cleary, superintendent of the Holland Agency. 

"The Captain is progressing splendidly, " was his answer to the anxiousquery. "He will be back in the harness again to-morrow. How are theprisoners?"

"They have tried to break out twice and gave my doorman a black eye. Butthey got four in return: Nick is no mollycoddle, you know. I can't quiteget the number of these fellows, for they are not registered down atHeadquarters, in the Rogue's Gallery. Their finger-prints are new onesin this district, too. They look like imported birds, Mr. Shirley. Whatdo you think?"

Cleary's opinion of the club man had been gaining in ascendency. 

"They may be visitors from another city, but I think the state will keepthem here as guests for a nice long time, Cleary. They say New York isinhospitable to strangers, but we occasionally pay for board and roomfrom the funds of the taxpayers without a kick. We saved the day for theVan Clefts, all right. The paper told of a beautiful but quiet funeralceremony, while the daughter has postponed her marriage for six months. "

Then he recounted the adventure of the exploding car. Cleary lit hismalodorous pipe, and shook his head thoughtfully. 

"Young man, you know your own affairs best. But with all your money, you'd better take to the tall pines yourself, like these old guys inthe 'Lobster Club. ' That's the advice of a man who's in the business formoney not glory. This is a bum game. They'll get me some day, some ofthese yeggs or bunk artists that I've sent away for recuperation, asthe doctors call it. But I'm doing it for bread and beefsteak, while itlasts. You run along and play--a good way from the fire, or you'll getmore than your fingers burnt. Take their hint and beat it while thebeating's good. "

A glint of steel shone from the eyes of the criminologist as he litanother cigarette and took up his walking-stick. 

"Why, Cleary, this is what I call real sport. Why go hunting polar bearsand tigers when we've got all this human game around the Gold Coast ofManhattan? I'm tired of furs: I want a few scalps. Good-morning. "

As Cleary went up the stairway to renew the ginger of the Third Degreefor the two prisoners, he smiled to himself, and muttered:

"The guy ain't such a boob as he looks: he's just a high-class nut. I'denjoy it myself if it wasn't my regular work. "

At Dick Holloway's office Shirley was greeted with an eager demand forhis report of the former evening's activities. An envious look was onthe face of the theatrical manager. 

"Shucks, Monty! It's a shame that all this sport is private stock, andcan't be bottled up and peddled to the public, for they're just crazyabout gangster melodrama. They're paying opera prices for the old timeten-twent-and-thirt-melodrama, right on Broadway. Hurry up and get theman and I'll have him dramatized while the craze is rampant. "

"Not while I own the copyright, " retorted Shirley, "this is one of thechapters of my life that isn't going to be typewritten, much less thesubject of gate-receipts. "

"I'm not so certain of that, " and Holloway's smile was quizzical. 

"What do you mean? Who is this Helene Marigold? I have a right to knowin a case like this. "

"Good intuition, as far as you go. But you're guessing wrong, for shehas nothing to do with my little joke. But why worry about her?" laughedHolloway. His friend had leaned forward, intensely, clutching his cane, with an unusually serious look on his face. Holloway had never seenShirley take such an interest in any woman before. He arose fromhis desk-chair and walked to the broad window, which overlooked thethronging sidewalks of Broadway. 

"Down there is the biggest, busiest street in the world filled withwomen of all hues and shades. This is the first time you ever looked soanxious about any combination of lace, curls, silks and gew-gaws before. You have been the bright and shining example of indifferent bachelorfreedom which has made me--thrice divorced--so envious of yourunalloyed, unalimonied joy. Don't betray the feet of clay which havesupported my idol!"

The baffling smile of the debonair club man returned to Shirley's face, as he twitted back: "Purely an altruistic inquiry, Dick. I feared thatyou might be risking your own heart and the modicum of freedom which youstill possess. But I'll wager a supper-party for four that I'll find outwho she is, without either you or she telling me. "

"Taken. At last I'm to have a free banquet, after years of businessentertaining. You have met a girl who will match your wits--I expect thesparks to fly. Well, she's worth while--I might do worse--but in perfectfairness she ought to do better. How about it?"

"Yes, with Jack, " and Shirley tapped the walking stick on the floor withan emphatic thump, while Holloway regarded him in startled surprise. 

"Who is Jack?"

"You see--I am learning already. But, you and I are drifting from mytask. I wish that you would take me to call on Miss Marigold, in mypresent lack of disguise. I do not care for that ancient garb anylonger. It was stretching the chances rather far, but thanks to thedarkness, the champagne, and good fortune, I succeeded in impersonatingour aged friend without detection. I will not return to Grimsby's house, but propose now to get down to brass tacks with Mr. Voice, even thoughthe tacks be hard to sit upon. I wish to use her as a bait, by takingher out to tea and getting a first-hand speaking acquaintance with theseconvivial assassins. "

"Monty, you are wasting your talents outside the pages of a playmanuscript, but we will make that call instanter. "

In leisure, they promenaded up the crowded Gay Wide Way, through thenoontime crowd of theatrical folk who dot the thoroughfare in this partof the city. His adversaries were to have every opportunity to observehis movements and draw their own conclusions. At the Hotel Californianew comment buzzed between the garrulous clerk and the switchboardperson, at sight of the well-known manager and his prosperous-lookingcompanion. 

"Who is that come on?" asked the clerk of the bellboy. 

"Sure, dat's Montague Shirley, one of dem rich ginks from de CollegeClub on Forty-fourth Street, where I used to woik in de check room. If Ihad dat guy's money I'd buy a hotel like dis. "

"Then I see where Holloway, with that blonde dame upstairs, will beputting on a new musical show, with a new angel. It's a great business, Miss Gwendolyn--no wonder they call it art. " And the clerk removed asilk handkerchief from his coat cuff, to dust the register wistfully. "Why didn't I devote my talents to the drama instead of room-keys anddue-bills?"

But Miss Gwendolyn was too busy talking to the Milwaukee drummer in Room72 to formulate a logical reason. Shirley and Holloway improved the timeby taking the elevator to the top floor where Helene greeted them at thedoor of her pretty apartment. She welcomed them happily, declaring ithad been a lonesome morning. 

"Weren't you resting from that long thrill of last night, in which youstarred?" asked Holloway. 

"It was too thrilling for me to sleep: I know I look a perfect frump, this morning. I tossed on the pillow, watching the dawn over yourtowering New York roofs, so nervous and almost miserable. But, withcompany, it's all right again. "

Holloway laughed inwardly at the warmth of the glance which she bestowedupon Shirley. From the angle of an audience, he was beginning to observea phase of this double play of personalities which was unseen by eitherof the participants. Two sleepless nights, after such a first eveningtogether, and what then? He imagined the denouement, with a growingenjoyment of his vantage-point as the game advanced. 

"To-day, I am reversing the usual progress of history, " said Shirley, ashe sat down in the window-seat. "From second juvenility I am returningto the first. In other words, I wish to become your adoring suitor inthe role of Montague Shirley. "

"I don't understand, " and her eyes widened in wonder, not without anaccompanying blush which did not escape Holloway. 

"No longer a lamb in sheep's clothing, I want to entertain you, withoutthe halo of William Grimsby's millions. I want to take tea with thesegentle-voiced cut-throats, who after my warning to-day, are directingtheir attention to me. " He narrated the narrow escape from death inthe racing-car. Helene's eyes darkened with an uncertainty which he hadhardly expected. Perhaps she would refuse to carry out their compactalong these dangerous lines. 

"Do you feel it wise to place yourself beneath this new menace?"

"The sword of Damocles is over me now, I know. To run would be aconfession of weakness and open the field for his further activities, with the rear-guard continuously exposed. There is nothing like thepersonal equation. I will call at five this afternoon, if you arewilling, Miss Marigold?"

"I will fight it out to the end, " and she placed her warm hand firmlywithin his own. The two friends departed, Shirley retracing his steps tothe club where many things were to be studied and planned. His systemof debit and credit records of facts known and needed, was one whichbrought finite results. As he smoked and pondered at his ease, a tappingon the study door aroused him from his vagrant speculations. At hiscall, a respectful Japanese servant presented a note, just left by amessenger-boy. He tore the envelope and read it. 

"Montague Shirley:--The third time is finis. As a friend youaccomplished the purpose you sought. There is no grudge against you. Why seek one? It is fatal for you to remain in the city. Leave while youhave time. "

That was all. The chirography was the same as that upon the note of theracing-car episode. Shirley locked up the missive in his cabinet, andsmiled at the increasing tenseness of the situation. 

"The writer of these two notes may have an opportunity to leave townhimself before long, to rest his nerves in the quiet valley of theHudson, at Ossining. My friend the enemy will soon be realizing adeficit in his rolling-stock and gentlemanly assistants. Two automobilesand three prisoners to date. There should be additional results beforemidnight. I wonder where he gardens into fruition these flowers ofcrime?"

And even as he pondered, a curious scene was being enacted within adozen city blocks of the commodious club house. 

CHAPTER XIII. THE SPIDER'S WEB

The setting was a bleak and musty cellar, beneath an old stable ofdingy, brick construction. The building had been modernized to theextent of one single decoration on the street front, an electric sign:"Garage. " On the floor, level with the sidewalk, stood half a dozenautomobiles of varied manufacture and age. Near the wide swingingdoors of oak, stood a big, black limousine. Two taxicabs of the usualappearance occupied the space next to this, while a handsome machinefaced them on the opposite side of the room. Two ancient machines werebacked against the wall, in the rear. 

In the basement beneath, several men were grouped in the frontcompartment, which was separated by a thick wooden partition from therear of the cellar. Three dusty incandescents illuminated this space. Inthe back a curious arrangement of two large automobile headlights set ondeal tables directed glaring rays toward the one door of the partition. In the center of the rear room was another table, standing behind ascreen of wire gauze, at the bottom of which was cut a small semicircle, large enough for the protrusion of a white, tense hand, whose fingerswere even now spasmodically clenching in nervous indication of fury. Behind either lamp was a heavy black screen, which effectually shut offingress to that portion of the room. 

The man standing between the table and the closed door of the partition, full in the light of the lamps, watched the hand as though fascinated. He could see nothing else, for behind the gauze all was darkness. Absolutely invisible, sat the possessor of the hand, observing the faceof his interviewer, on the brighter side of the gauze. 

"So, there's no word from the Monk?"

"No, chief. De bloke's disappeared. Either he got so much swag offen disold Grimsby guy, after youse got de bumps, or he had cold feet and beatit wid de machine. "

"It's a crooked game on me. " rasped the voice behind the screen. "I'llsend him up for this. You know how far my lines go out. What about DutchJake and Ben the Bite?"

The man before the screen shook his head in helpless bewilderment Therewas a suggestion of fright in his manner, as well. 

"Can't find out a t'ing, gov'nor. I hopes you don't blame me for dis. I'm doin' my share. Dey just disappears dat night w'en you sends 'em toshadder Van Cleft's joint. My calcerlation is--"

"I'm not paying you to calculate. I've trusted you and lost six thousanddollars' worth of automobiles for my pains. You can just calculate this, that unless I get some news about Jake, Ben and the Monk by this timetomorrow, I'll send some news down to Police headquarters on LafayetteStreet that will make you wish you had never been born. "

For some reason not difficult to guess, the suggestion had a galvaniceffect on the bewildered one. His hands trembled as he raised themimploringly to the screen. 

"Oh, gov'nor, wot have I done? Ain't I been on de level wid yez? Say, I ain't never even seen yez for de fourteen months I've been yergobetween. I've been beat up by de cops, pinched and sent to deworkhouse 'cause I wouldn't squeal, and now ye t'reatens me. Did I everfall down on a trick ontil dis week? You'se ain't goin' ter welch on me, are you'se? I ain't no welcher meself, an' ye knows it. "

The other snapped out curtly: "Very well, cut out the sob stuff. It'sup to you to prove that there hasn't been a leak somewhere or a doublecross. Send in those rummies, --I want to give them the once over again. There's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, and I'm no abolitionist!Quick now. Get a wiggle on. "

The hand was withdrawn from the little opening, as the lieutenantadvanced into the front compartment of the cellar. He beckoned meaninglyto the others to follow him. They obeyed with a slinking walk, whichshowed that they were obsessed by some great dread, in that unseenpresence, in the heart of the spider-web!

"Which one of you is the stool pigeon, " came the harsh query. 

"W'y, gov'nor, none of us. You'se knows us, " whined one of the men. 

"Yes, and I know enough to send you all to Atlanta or Sing Sing orDanamora, for the rest of your rotten lives, if I want to. "

The rascals stared vainly into the black vacuum of the screen, blinkingin the glaring lights, cowering instinctively before the unseen butcertain malignancy of the power behind that mysterious wall. 

"I brought you here to New York, " continued the master, "you are makingmore money with less work and risk than ever before. But you're playingfalse with me, and I know some one is slipping information where itoughtn't to go. I'm going to skin alive the one who I catch. There's oneeye that never sleeps, don't forget that. "

"Gee, boss, wot do we know to slip?" advanced the most forward of them. "We follers orders, and gets our kale and dat's all. We ain't nevereven seen ya, and don't know even wot de whole game is. Don't queer us, gov'nor!"

"Go out front again, and shut off this blab. I warn you that's all-Now, Phil, give this to the men. Tell them to keep off the cocaine--they'regetting to be a lot of bone heads lately. Too much dope will spoil thebest crook in the world. "

The white hand passed out a roll of crisp, new currency to thelieutenant of the gang, who gingerly reached for it, as though heexpected the tapering fingers to claw him. 

"Fifty dollars to each man. No holding out. Remember, every one of themis spying on the other to me. I'm not a Rip Van Winkle. Now, I wantyou to keep this fellow Montague Shirley covered but don't put him awayuntil I give you the word. Send the bunch upstairs, for I don't want tobe disturbed the next two hours. And just keep off the coke yourself. You're scratching your face a good deal these days--I know the signs. "

Phil expostulated nervously. "Oh, gov'nor, I ain't no fiend--just onceand a while I gets a little rummy, and brightens up. It takes too muchmoney to git it now, anyway. Goodbye, chief. "

As he closed the wooden door to pay the gangsters, there was aslight grating noise, which followed a double click. A bar of woodautomatically slid down into position behind the door, blocking apossible opening from the front of the cellar. The lights suddenly weredarkened. The sound of shuffling feet would have indicated to a listenerthat the owner of the nervous hand was retreating to the rear of thedarkened den. A noise resembling that of the turn of a rusty hingemight have then been heard: there was a metallic clang, the rattle of asliding chain and the rear room was as empty as it was black!

In the front room, after payment from the red-headed ruffian, Phil, themen clambered in single file up a wooden ladder to the street level. A trap-door was put into place and closed. Then the men began to shoot"craps" for a readjustment of the spoils, with the result that Red Phil, as his henchmen called him, was the smiling possessor of most of themoney, without the erstwhile necessity of "holding out. "

Then the gangsters scattered to the nearby gin-shops to while away thetime before darkness should call for their evil activities. It was acheerful little assortment of desperadoes, yet in appearance theydid not differ from most of the habitues of New York garages, thosecesspools of urban criminality. 

From his club, Shirley telephoned Jim Merrivale in his downtown office, purposely giving another name, as he addressed his friend--a pseudonymupon which they had agreed during the night call. Shirley was suspiciousof all telephones, by this time, and his guarded inquiry gave nopossible clue to a wiretapping eavesdropper. 

"How is the new bull-dog?" was the question, after the first guardedgreeting. "Is he still muzzled?"

"Yes, Mr. Smith, " responded Merrivale, "and the meanest specimen I haveever seen outside a Zoo! When I sent the groom out to feed him thismorning, he snarled and tried to claw him. He's on a hunger strike. Ilooked up the license number on his collar but he's not registered inthis state. " (This, Shirley knew, meant the automobile tag under themachine which had been captured. )

"When are you apt to send for him--I don't think I'll keep him anylonger than I can help. "

"I'll send out from the dog store, with a letter signed by me. Feed hima little croton oil to cure his disposition. Good-bye, for now, Jim. I'll write you, this day. "

Shirley hung up, and smiled with satisfaction at the news. The man wouldbe glad to get bread and water, before long, he felt assured. However, he despatched a note to Cleary, of the Holland Agency, enclosing awritten order to Merrivale to deliver over the prisoner, for saferkeeping in the city. 

This disposed of the started out from the club house for his afternoonof dissipation. As he left the doorway, he noticed the two men with theblack caps standing not far away. They were engrossed in the rolling ofcigarettes, but the swift glance which they shot at him did not escapeMonty. 

"Like the poor and the bill collectors, they are always with us, " washis thought, as he calmly strolled over to the Hotel California. Hedetermined to place them in a quiet, sheltered retreat at the earliestopportunity. He found Helene more attractive than ever. 

"Shall I put on this wretched rouge again to-day, " was the plaintivequestion, after the first greeting. "I hate it so--and yet, will dowhatever you order. "

"Your role calls for it, my dear girl. Perhaps we may close the dramaticengagement sooner than we expect. To-night should be an eventful one, for I will accept every lead which Reginald Warren offers. I would liketo have a record of his voice, and that of some of his friends. Thereis a difference between the telephone voice and that heard face toface, --you would be a good witness if I could persuade him to sing orspeak for me into a record. You can straighten out the difficulties ofthis case, if you will, in a thoroughly feminine manner. "

"And what, sir, is that, I pray you?"

"Give him the opportunity--to fall in love with you. "

Helene's cheeks flushed a stronger carmine than the rouge which she wasadministering, as she looked up in quick embarrassment. 

"I don't want him to love me. I want no man to love me, " was thepetulant answer. 

"Doubtless you have reason to be satisfied as things are, " repliedShirley, puffing a cigarette, "but the softness of cerebral conditionsincreases in direct ratio with the mushiness of the affections. If itis important to us--and you are my partner in this fascinating businessventure--will you not sacrifice your emotions to that extent: merelyto let him lead himself on, as most men do?" He paused for a criticalobservation of her, and then added: "You are even more beautiful to-daythan you were yesterday. He cannot help loving you if he is given thechance!"

Helene's white fingers crushed the orchid which she was pinning to thebosom of her gown. Her intent gaze met the mask of Shirley's ingenuoussmile, reading in his telltale eyes a message which needed no courtinterpreter! Quickly she turned to her mirror to put the finishingtouches to her coiffure, the golden curls so alluringly wilful. 

"Your flattery, sir, is very cruel. Beware! I may take it seriously. What would happen if my verdant heart were to fall a victim to thecunning wiles of the voice? Remember, I have only met two men, since Icame to America, yesterday. And they are both pronounced woman-haters. I will take you at your word, about Mr. Reginald Warren, and loosen myblandishments to the best of my rustic ability. "

A wayward twinkle in her eyes should have warned Shirley that she wasplanning a little mischief. But, he was too preoccupied in finding thereal front of her baffling street cloak to observe it. They left forthe tearoom, while Helene still laughed to herself over certain subtlepossibilities which she saw in the situation. 

CHAPTER XIV. A PILGRIMAGE INTO FRIVOLITY

Rather early, again, for the usual throng, they were able to choosetheir position to their liking: to-day, it was in the center of the bigroom, close by the space cleared for the dancing. Gradually the tableswere occupied, apparently by the identical people of the afternoonbefore, so marked is the peculiar character of the dance-madindividuality. To-day he varied his menu with a mild order ofcocktails--for now he was not emulating the Epicurean record of thebibulous Grimsby. They observed with amusement the weird contortions, seldom graced by a vestige of rhythm or beauty, with which the intentdancers spun and zigzagged. 

"Considering how much money they pay to learn these steps fromdancing-masters, there is unusually small value in the market, MissMarigold. I resigned myself to the approach of the sunset years, andbecame a voluntary exile in the garden of the wallflowers, when societydancing became mathematical. "

"I don't understand?"

"Once it was possible to chat, to smile, to woo or to silently enjoythe music and the measures of the dance in company with a sympatheticpartner. Now, however, since the triumph of the 'New Mode, ' one mustcount 'one-two-three, ' and one's partner is more captious than aschoolmarm! What puzzles me is the need for new steps, to be learnedfrom expensive teachers, when it's so easy to slide down hill in thispart of New York. But here endeth the sermon, for I recognize theamiable Pinkie at that other table, where she is studying your face withthe malevolence of a cobra. "

Helene slowly turned her eyes toward the other girl, who now advancedwith forced effusiveness. 

"Oh, my dear, and you're back again today. But where is dear oldGrimmie; he is a nice old soul, though a trifle near-sighted. He wasn'thalf seas over last night--he was a war-zone submarine, out for along-distance record!"

She impudently seated herself at the table with them, sending aquestioning glance at the handsome companion of her quondam rival. Helene instinctively drew back, but a warning glance from Shirleyplunged her into her assumed character, and she greeted the other girlwith the quasi-comradeship of their class. 

"Oh, yes, dear. Grimsby was a little poisoned by the salad or somethinglike that: he was actually disagreeable with me, of all people in theworld. But, I have so many friends that Grimsby does not give me anyworry. He means nothing in my life. You seemed quite worried over him, though--"

"Yes, girlie, " was Pinkie's effort to parry. "I was upset--not becausehe was with you, but to see the old chap showing his age. His taste hasdeteriorated so much since he started wearing glasses. But why don't youintroduce me to your gentleman friend?"

Helene's faint smile expressed volumes, as she turned toward themodest Shirley with a bow of condescension. "This is Pinkie, one of oldGrimsby's sweethearts, Mr. Shirley. I'm sure you'll like her. "

"Are you Montague Shirley?" demanded the auburn-haired coquette withsudden interest. As Shirley nodded, she caught his hand with an ardentglance, ogling him impressively, as she continued: "I've heard a lot ofyou. I'm just that pleased to meet you!"

An indefinable resentment crept over Helene. How could this creatureof the demi-monde have even distant acquaintance of such a wholesome, superior man as her escort? The effusiveness was irritating, and theoveracted kittenishness of the girl made her sick at heart, althoughshe betrayed no sign of her feeling. Helene could not understand thatdespite its mammoth size, New York is relatively provincial in theclub and theatrical community, his acquaintanceship numbering intothe thousands. Town Topics, the social gossipers of the newspapers andtalkative club men bandied names about in such wise that it was easyfor members of Pinkie's profession to satisfy their hopefulcuriosity--prompted by visions of eventual social conquest on the onehand and a professional desire to memorize street numbers on the WealthHighway for ultimate financial manipulations. As one of the richestmembers of the exclusive bachelor set, Montague Shirley, even unknown tohimself, occupied reserved niches in the ambitions of a hundred and onefair plotters!

"You will honor us by taking a drink, Miss Pinkie?" was thecriminologist's courteous overture. 

"Pinkie Marlowe, if you want to know the rest of my name. Yes, I need alittle absinthe to wake me up, for I just finished breakfast. We had alarge party last night at Reg Warren's. Why don't you dance with me?"

"The old adage about fat men never being loved applies especially tothose who brave the terrors of the fox-trot. I weigh two hundred, so Iwisely sit under the trees and laugh at the others. "

"You two hundred?" and admiration flashed from Pinkie's emotional eyes, "I don't believe it. Why, you're just right! I could dance with a manlike you all night!"

Helene's helplessness only fanned the flames of her inward fury at thebrazen intent of the girl. She forgot about Jack and even her plansabout Reginald Warren. But Shirley's purpose was now rewarded, forPinkie acted as the magnet to draw over several of the gilded youthswhom they had met the day before. More introductions followed, andadditional refreshments were soon gracing the table. Shine Taylor wasthe next to join the party, and erelong the waited-for visitor wasapproaching them. His eyes were upon Shirley from the instant thathe entered the room: he advanced directly toward their table with acertainty which proved to Monty that method was in every move. 

"What a pleasant surprise, little Bonbon!" exclaimed this gentleman ashe drew up to their table. "I'm so glad. I was afraid you wouldn't gethome safely with Grimsby; he was so absolutely overcome last night. Hepromised to bring you to my little entertainment but didn't show up. What became of him?"

"Join us in a drink and forget him, " suggested Helene, as she took hishand with an innocently stupid smile. "This is Mr. Shirley, Mr. --Mr. --Ihad so much champagne last night I forgot your name. "

"Warren, that's simple enough. Glad to see you, Mr. Sherwood, oh, Shirley! It seems as though I had heard your name--aren't you an actor, or an artist? A musician, or something like that? My memory is somiserable. "

"I'm just a 'something like that, ' not even an actor, " was the answer, as the tiniest of nudges registered Helene's appreciation. "What is yourfavorite poison?"

Warren gave him a startled look, and then laughed: "Oh, you mean todrink? Now you must join me for I am the intruder. " He drew out a rollof money; more nice, new hundred dollar bills. Shirley remembered thatold Van Cleft had drawn several thousand dollars from his office thenight of the murder. Even his trained stoicism rebelled at thought ofdrinking a cocktail bought with this bloody currency!

"You didn't tell me about Grimsby?" persisted Warren, turning to Helene, with an admiring scrutiny of the girl's charms. "I'm rather interested. "

"You'll have to ask him, not me. After we took a taxi from theWinter-Garden we had a ride in the Park. So stupid, I thought, atthis time of the year. When I woke up, Grimmie was helping me into theentrance of the hotel. He was very cross with the chauffeur and with me, too. Then he took the taxi and went home, still angry. "

"So!" after a moment's silence, Warren continued, a puzzled look on hisface. "What was the trouble? I don't see how any one could be cross witha nice little girl like you. But to-night, I'm to have another littleparty up at my house. Bring some one up, who won't be cross. You come, Mr. Shirley?"

Helene hesitated, but Monty acquiesced. 

"That would be splendid. What time?"

"About eleven. I'll expect you--I must run along now, as I'm orderingsome fancy dishes. "

Shirley had paid his waiter, and he rose with Helene. 

"We must be leaving, too. I'll accept your invitation. "

"And I'll be there, too, Mr. Shirley, " put in Pinkie Marlowe. "I'llteach you some new steps. Reggie has a wonderful phonograph for dancing, with all the new tunes. See you later, girlie. "

They were accompanied to the door by Shine and Warren. At thecheck-room, Shirley was interested to note that Shine Taylor took outhis green velour hat. His feet were adorned with white spats. After thedoor of their taxi had slammed he confided to Helene that he had locatedthe gentleman who had caused his wreck that morning. Still, however, theclues were too weak for action. The car went first to the club, whereShirley sent in for any possible letters or messages. The servantbrought out a note. It was another surprise. He gave an address to thedriver and as the car turned up Fifth Avenue, he studied this missivewith knit brows. 

"A new worry?" asked Helene. "May I help you?"

He handed her the letter, and she noticed the nervous handwriting. Itwas short. 

"Dear Mr. Shirley: Just received a threatening note demanding money. Canyou come up at once? Howard V. C. "

Shirley answered the question in the blue eyes, as she finished. 

"As I thought it would turn out. Baffled in their game of robbing oldmen who have all left the city, they have begun to work the chance forblackmail. I will advise Van Cleft to pay them, and then we will followthe money. Here is the mansion and I will be out in five minutes. "

He soon disappeared behind the bronze door. True to his promise, in fiveminutes he had returned. He looked up and down the Avenue amazed. Not atrace of the taxicab, nor of Helene Marigold could be seen!

Shirley's impulse was to pinch himself to awaken from the chimera. Heknew she was armed, and would use the weapon if only to call for help. For the first time in his career the chill of terror crept into hisheart--not for himself, but an irresistible dread of some impendingdanger for this unfathomable woman who had shared his dangers souncomplainingly during this last wonderful day. He racked his mindvainly for some plausible reason. "She knows I need her. Yet at thesupreme moment of the game she disappears. Can she be like other women, when she is most necessary?"

And he walked slowly down the Avenue, disconcerted, endeavoring to solvethis sudden abortion of his best laid plans. 

CHAPTER XV. CONCERNING HELENE'S FINESSE

Shirley endured a miserable three hours, in his attempts to locate thegirl. She had not returned to the Hotel California, and he returned tothe club in moody reflection. It was beginning to snow, and the groundwas soon covered with a thin coat of white, through which he noticed hisfootprints stenciled against the black of the wet pavement. He wasted adozen matches in the freshening wind, as he tried to light a cigarette. He stepped into a doorway on the Avenue to avail himself of its shelter. As he turned out to the street again, he almost bumped into two men, wearing black caps! One of them grunted a curt apology, as he steppedon. 

"They are after me as usual, " he thought. "Why not reverse operationsand find out where they belong?"

It seemed hopeless: as in a checker game they had him at disadvantagewith the odd number of the "move. " Theirs was the chance to observe, andan open attempt to follow them would be ridiculous. Then, the footprintsgave him an idea. 

Dimly behind could be discerned the two men, as he quickened his pace, turning into a side street, off Fifth Avenue. Here he knew that trafficwould be light, and his footprints the best evidence of his progress. The men unwittingly caught his plan, and dropped almost out of sight. At the intersection of Madison Avenue, they quickened their steps, andcaught up with him again. Across corners, down quiet streets, and bypurposed diagonals he led them: still they dogged his footprints. So adroit were they that only one experienced in the art could haverealized their watchfulness. 

Shirley now turned a corner quickly, into an unusually desertedthoroughfare, running with short steps, so as not to betray his speedby the tracks. Before they had time to round the corner he ran upthe thinly blanketed steps of a private residence. Then he backed, asswiftly down the stoop, and thus crablike, walked across the street, down a dozen houses and backward still, up the steps of another privatedwelling. Inside the vestibule he hid himself. The entry had strongwooden outside doors, and he tried the strength of the hinges: theysatisfied him. A dim light burned behind the glass of the inner portal. He quietly clambered up the door, and balanced himself on the wood whichgallantly stood the strain. Fortunately it did not come within four feetof the high ceiling of the old fashioned house. 

He suffered a good ten minutes' wait before his ruse was rewarded. Beingon the "fence" was a pastime compared to this precarious test of hismuscles. The two men who had followed the first footprints tired ofwaiting before the house. One of them determined to investigate theother steps, which led into the house of their vigilance, from the otherdwelling. And so he followed on, to the vestibule where he rang thebell. Shirley could have touched his head, so near he was, but thedarkness of the upper space covered the retreat of the criminologist. 

"What do you want?" was the angry question of an indignant old caretakerwho answered the bell tardily. "You woke me up. "

"Say, lady, can I speak to Mr. Montague Shirley?" began the man, gingerly. 

"You get away from this house, you loafer or I'll call the police. Noone by that name ain't here. Now, you get!"

She slammed the door in his face. 

"I'll get Chuck to watch de udder joint, " muttered the man, in a toneaudible to Shirley. "Den I'll go back and git orders from Phil. "

This habit of thinking aloud was expensive. Shirley stiffly butnoiselessly slid down the steps, as he disappeared in the thickeningsnowfall. The criminologist slowly crossed the street, and shelteredhimself in a basement entrance, from which he reversed the shadowingprocess. The twain hesitated before the first house, then one came upthe sidewalk, as the other stood his ground. This man passed within afew feet of Shirley, who followed him over to Madison Avenue, then northto Fifty-fifth Street. Here he turned west, and turned into one of theold stables, formerly used by the gentry of the exclusive section fortheir blooded steeds. Into one building, which announced its identity as"Garage" with its glittering electric sign, the man disappeared. 

Shirley paused, looked about him, and chuckled. For he knew that throughthe block on Fifty-sixth Street was the tall apartment building, knownas the Somerset--the address given him by Reginald Warren. 

"If I only had some word from Helene Marigold I could go ahead beforethey realized my knowledge. "

Even as this thought crossed his mind, he turned back into Sixth Avenue. A hatless, breathless young person, running down the snowy streetcollided with him. As he began to apologize, he awoke to the startlingfact that it was his assistant. 

"Great Scott! What are you doing here? Where have you been all thistime?"

The girl caught his arm unsteadily, but there was a triumph in hervoice, as she cried: "Oh, this wonderful chance meeting. I was runningdown to my hotel but you have saved the day. I will tell you later. Quick, take this book. "

She drew forth a volume, flexibly bound, like a small loose-leaf ledger. Shirley stuck it into his overcoat pocket, which he was already slippingabout the girl's shivering shoulders. 

"Take me back at once, for there is more for me to do. "

"Where, my dear girl? You are indeed the lady of mysteries. "

"To the basement of Warren's apartment house. I came down thedumb-waiter, when they left me. I left the little door ajar--Can youpull me up again? He is on the eighth floor. It is a long pull--Oh, ifwe can only make it before they return. "

Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of the mad game, as she ran once more, Shirley keeping pace with her. The flurries of the snowstorm protectedthem from too-curious observation, as the streets seemed desertedby pedestrians who feared the growing blizzard. She led him to thetradesman's entrance of the Somerset, into the dark corridor throughwhich she had emerged. 

"Don't strike a light, for I can feel the way. We mustn't be seen. "

Shirley obeyed, --at last she found the base of the dumbwaiter shaft. 

"How did you have the strength to lower yourself down this shaft--it isno small task?" and his tone was admiring. 

"I am not a weakling--tennis, boating, swimming were all in myeducation; they helped. But it is beyond me to pull all those floors, and lift my weight. Pull up as far as the little elevator car goes, thengo away and come to his party to look for me. Do not be surprised at myactions. My role has really developed into that of an emotional heavy. "

She patted his hand with a relaxation of tenderness, as he began to drawon the long rope. The girl was by no means a light weight, but at lastthe dumb-waiter came to a stop. Shirley heard the opening and closing ofa door above. Then, still wondering at it all, he returned to the streetas unobserved as they had entered. There was at least an hour to wait. He walked over to the Athletic Club, of which he was a remiss member, attending seldom during the recent months when his exercise had beenmore tragic than gymnastic work. In the library of the club house he satdown to study the volume which Helene had thrust into his hands at theirstartling meeting. 

He gave a low whistle of surprise. 

"Some little book!" he muttered, "and Helene Marigold has shown me thatI must fight hard to equal her in the race for laurels!"

Then he proceeded to rack his brains with a new and knottier problemthan any which he had yet encountered. 

CHAPTER XVI. THE STRANGE AND SURPRISING WARREN

The volume was a loose-leaf diary, with each page dated, and of lettersize. It covered more than the current year, however, running back fornearly eighteen months. It was as scrupulously edited as a lawyer'sengagement book, and curiously enough it was entirely written intypewriting!

Most surprising of all, however, was the curious code in which theentire matter was transcribed, --the most unusual one which Shirley hadever read. 

Here was the first page to which he opened, letter for letter and symbolfor symbol:

"THURSDAY: JANUARY SEVENTH, 1915. ;rstmrfagtp, ansmlafrav;rudyrtaftreadocayjpidsmfaoma, ptmomha, pmlassdohmrfaypayscoaeptlagptayrsadjomrasddohmrfagocahrmrsypta, sthoragsotgscafsyraeoyjafrav;rudyrtasyagobradjomrasmfalprajse;ruavobrtomhas, rakslrassmffanrmasddohmrfan;svlavstagpta, raqsofaqjo;apmrajimftrfavpbrtomhadqrvos; aeptlakpnagomodjrfatobrtdofraftobrasyarohjyoayjotfad ocadjstqafrqpdoyrfamohjyasmfaffuagpitayjpi dsmfadsgrafrqpdoyagogyrrmajimftrfa;rmyaf p;;ua, stopmayepajimfrtgptaftrddagptaqstyuaeoyjabsmv;rgyamrcyasgyrtmppmasfbsmvrfad jomrapmrayjpidsmdaypavpbrtapqyopmapga usvjyadimnrs, aqsofaypantplrtayjsyamohjyaptfrfaqtpbodop, dayr;rqjpmragptausvjyayepa, p myjabtiodra, pmlasddohmrdagptkpnamrcyafs uasfbs mvrfadjomragojimftrfapmasvvpimyaeptlapmaer;;omhypmadrtts;a, syyrtatrqsitdan; svla, svjomra"

and so it ran on, baffling and inspiring a headache!

Shirley went over and over the lines of this bewildering phalanx ofletters with no reward for his absorbed devotion to the puzzle. 

"Let me see, " he mused. "Thursday, January seventh, was the date uponwhich Washington Serral was murdered, according to Doctor MacDonald. Anyman who will maintain a record of the days in such a difficult code asthis must not only be extremely methodical, but is certain to have muchto put upon that record worth the trouble. Here may lay the secret ofthe entire case. "

At the end of the hour he had allowed himself, there was no moreproximity to solution than at the inception of his effort. It wasalmost half-past eleven, and he knew that it was time to go to Warren'sapartment. He sent a messenger with the book, carefully wrapped up, tohis rooms at the club on Forty-fourth Street. It was too interestinga document to risk taking up to that apartment again, after Helene'sexertions in obtaining it. 

The Somerset was not dissimilar from the hundreds of highly embellisheddwellings of the sort which abound in the region of the Park, causingout-of-town visitors to marvel justly at the source of the vast sums ofmoney with which to pay the enormous rentals of them all. 

The elevator operator smirked knowingly, when he asked for Warren'sapartment. "You-all can go right up, boss. He's holdin' forth foranother of dem high sassiety shindigs to-night. Dat gemman alluz has toomany callin' to bother with the telephone when he has a party. You don'tneed no announcin'. "

The man directed him to the door on the left. Closed as it was thesounds of merrymaking emanated into the corridor. Shirley's pressureon the bell was answered by Shine Taylor's startled face. Warren stoodbehind him. The surprise of the pair amused Shirley, but their composurebespoke trained self-control. 

"I'm sorry to be late, " was the criminologist's greeting. "But I cameup to apologize for not being able to bring Miss Marigold. We missedconnections somewhere, and I couldn't find her. "

"I am so pleased to have you with us anyway. We'll try to get alongwithout her--" but Warren was interrupted to his discomfiture. 

A silvery laugh came from the hallway behind him. Helene Marigold waveda champagne glass at Shirley. 

"There's my tardy escort now. I'm here, Shirley old top! Te, he! You seeI played a little joke on you this afternoon and eloped with a handsomerman than you. " She leaned unsteadily against the door post and waveda white hand at him as she coaxed. "Come on in, old dear, and don't becross now with your little Bonbon Tootems!"

Taylor and Warren exchanged glances, for this was an unexpected sally. But they were prompt in their effusive cordiality, as they assistedShirley in removing his overcoat, and hanging his hat with those of theother guests. He placed his cane against the hall tree, and followed hishost into the jollified apartment. He did not overlook the swift glideof Shine's hand into each of his overcoat pockets in the brief interval. Here was a skilful "dip"--Shirley, however, had taken care that thepickpocket would find nothing to worry him in the overcoat. 

Warren's establishment was a gorgeous one. To Shirley it was hard toharmonize the character of the man as he had already deduced it withthe evident passion for the beautiful. That such a connoisseur of artobjects could harbor in so broad and cultured a mind the machinationsof such infamy seemed almost incredible. The riddle was not new withReginald Warren's case: for morals and "culture" have shown theirsociological, economic and even diplomatic independence of each otherfrom the time when the memory of man runneth not!

Shirley's admiration was shrewdly sensed by his host. So after a tactfulintroduction to the self-absorbed merrymakers, now in all stages ofstimulated exuberance, he conducted his guest on a tour of inspectionabout his rooms. 

"So, you like etchings? I want you to see my five Whistlers. Here is myFritz Thaulow, and there is my Corot. This crayon by Von Lenbach is afavorite of mine. " His black eyes sparkled with pride as he pointedout one gem after another in this veritable storehouse of artisticsurprises. Few of the jolly throng gave evidence of appreciating them:the man was curiously superior to his associations in education as wellas the patent evidence which Shirley now observed of being to the manorborn. Helene Marigold, ensconced in a big library chair, her feet curledunder her, pink fingers supporting the oval chin, dreamily watchedShirley's absorption. She seemed almost asleep, but her mind drank ineach mood that fired the criminologist's face, as he thoroughly relaxedfrom his usual bland superiority of mien, to revel in the treasures. 

Ivory masterpieces, Hindu carvings, bronzes, landscapes, rare wood-cuts, water colors--such a harmonious variety he had seldom seen in anyprivate collection. The library was another thesaurus: rich bindingsencased volumes worthy of their garb. The books, furthermore, showed themellowing evidence of frequent use; here was no patron of the instalmenteditions-de-luxe!

"You like my things, " and Warren's voice purred almost happily. Therewas a softening change in his attitude, which Shirley understood. Theappreciation of a fellow worshiper warmed his heart. "My books--allbound privately, you know, for I hate shop bindings. Most of them fromsecond-hand stalls, redolent with the personalities of half a hundredreaders. Books are so much more worth reading when they have been readand read again. Don't you think so?"

"Yes. I see your tastes run to the modern school. Individualism, even morbidity: Spencer, Nietsche, Schopenhauer, Tolstoi, Kropotkin, Gorky--They express your thoughts collectively?"

"Yes, but not radically enough. My entire intellectual life has drivenme forward--I am a disciple of the absolute freedom, the divinity ofself, and--but there I invited you to a joy party, not a universityseminar. "

"But the party will grow riper with age, " and Shirley was prone tocontinue the autopsy. "You are a university man. Where did you study?"

"Sipping here and there, " and a forgivable vanity lightened Warren'sface. "Gottingen, Warsaw, Jena, Oxford, Milan, The Sorbonne and even atHeidelberg, the jolly old place. You see my scar?" He pulled back a lockof his wavy black hair from the left temple to show a cut from a studentduelist's sword. "But you Americans--I mean, we Americans--we have suchopportunities to pick up the best things from the rest of the world. "

"No, Warren, " and Shirley shook his head, not overlooking the slightbreak which indicated that his host was a foreigner, despite the quickchange. "I have been to busy wasting time to collect anything butfleeting memories. Too much polo, swimming, yachting, golfing--I havefallen into evil ways. I think your example may reform me. You must dinewith me at my club some day, and give me some hints about making suchwonderful purchases. "

"I know the most wonderful antique shop, " Warren began, and just thenwas interrupted by Shine Taylor and a dizzy blonde person with whom hemaxixed through the Hindu draperies, each deftly balancing a champagneglass. 

"Here, Reg, you neglect your other guests. Come on in!" Shine'scompanion held out a wine glass to Warren, but her eyes were fixed in afascinated stare upon Montague Shirley. 

"Why, what are you doing here?"

It was little Dolly Marion, Van Cleft's companion on the fatalautomobile ride. She trembled: the glass fell to the floor with a tinklycrash. Shirley smiled indulgently. Taylor and Warren exchanged looks, but Monty knew that they must by this time be aware of his command tothe girl to abstain from gay associations. 

"You couldn't resist the call of the wild, could you, Miss Dolly?"

The girl sheepishly giggled, and danced out of the room, to sink into achair, wondering what this visitation meant. Another masculine butterflypressed more champagne upon her, and in a few moments she had forgottento worry about anything more important than the laws of gravity. Warrenhad been rudely dragged away from his intellectual kinship with hisguest. His manner changed, almost indefinably, but Shirley understood. He looked at Helene, a little bundle of sleepy sweetness in the bigchair. 

"Well, Miss! Where did you go when I left you on my call of condolenceto Howard Van Cleft? He leaves town to-night for a trip on his yacht, and it was my last chance to say good-bye. "

"Where is he going?" was Warren's lapsus linguae, at this bit of news. 

"Down to the Gulf, I believe. Do you know him, Warren? Nice chap. Toobad about his father's sudden death from heart failure, wasn't it? Hetold me they were putting in supplies for a two months' cruise and wouldnot be able to sail before three in the morning. "

"I don't know Van Cleft, " was Warren's guarded reply. "Of course, I readof his sad loss. But he is so rich now that he can wipe out his griefwith a change of scene and part of the inheritance. It's being done insociety, these days. "

"Poor Van Cleft! He's besieged by blackmailers, who threaten to laybare his father's extravagant innuendos, unless he pays fifty thousanddollars. He can afford it, but as he says, it's war times and moneyis scarce as brunette chorus girls. He has put the matter before theDistrict Attorney and is going to sail for Far Cathay until they roundup the gang. These criminals are so clumsy nowadays, I imagine it willbe an easy task, don't you, Warren?"

The other man's eyes narrowed to black slits as he studied the childlikeexpression of Shirley's face. He wondered if there could be a covertthreat in this innocent confidence. He answered laconically: "Oh, Isuppose so. We read about crooks in the magazines and then see theircapers in the motion picture thrillers, but down in real life, we findthem a sordid, unimaginative lot of rogues. "

He proffered Shirley a cigarette from his jeweled case. As he leanedtoward the table to draw a match from the small bronze holder, Heleneobserved Shirley deftly substitute it for one of his own, secreting thefirst. 

"Yes, " continued Shirley, "the criminal who is caught generally loseshis game because he is mechanical and ungifted with talent. But think ofthe criminals who have yet to be captured--the brilliant, the inspiredones, the chess-players of wickedness who love their game and play itwith the finesse of experts. "

Shirley smoothed away the ripple of suspicion which he had mischievouslyaroused with, "So, that is why fellows like us would not bother with thelife. The same physical and intellectual effort expended by a criminalgenius would bring him money and power with no clutching legal hand tofear. But there, we're getting morbid. What I really want to do is tosatisfy my vanity. Where did Miss Marigold disappear?"

"Talking about me?" and Helene opened her eyes languorously. "I was sotired waiting for you that when Mr. Warren came along in his wonderfulnew car I yielded to his invitation, so we enjoyed that tea-room tripwhich you had promised. Such a lark! Then we came up here where I hadthe most wonderful dinner with him and three girls. I was tired andsleepy, so I dozed away on that library davenport until the partybegan--and there you are and here I are, and so, forgive me, Monty?"

She slipped nimbly to the floor, with a maddening display of a silkenankle, advancing to the criminologist with a wistful playfulness whichbrought a flush of sudden feeling, to the face of Reginald Warren. Helene was carrying out his directions to the letter, Shirley observed. 

They lingered at Warren's festivities until a wee sma' hour, Helenepretending to share the conviviality, while actually maintaining ahawk-like watch upon the two conspirators as she now felt them to be. She was amused by the frequency with which Shine Taylor and ReginaldWarren plied their guest with cigarettes: Shirley's legerdemain insubstituting them was worthy of the vaudeville stage. 

"The wine and my smoking have made me drowsy, " he told her, with noeffort at concealment. "We must get home or I'll fall asleep myself. "

A covert smile flitted across Warren's pale face, as Shirleyunconventionally indulged in several semi-polite yawns, nodding a bit, as well. Helene accepted glass after glass of wine, thoughtfully pouredout by her host. And as thoughtfully, did she pour it into the flowervases when his back was turned: she matched the other girls' acutetransports of vinous joy without an error. Shirley walked to thewindow, asking if he might open it for a little fresh air. Warren noddedsmiling. 

"You are well on the way to heaven in this altitude of eight stories, "volunteered Shirley, with a sleepy laugh. 

"Yes. The eighth and top floor. A burglar could make a good haul of mycollection, except that I have the window to the fire escape barred fromthe inside, around the corner facing to the north. Here, I am safe frommolestation. "

"A great view of the Park--what a fine library for real reading; andI see you have a typewriter--the same make I used to thump, when Idid newspaper work--a Remwood. Let me see some of your literary work, sometime--"

Warren waved a deprecating hand. "Very little--editors do not like it. Ido better with an adding machine down on Wall Street than a typewriter. But let us join the others. " There was a noticeable reluctanceabout dwelling upon the typewriter subject. Warren hurried into thedrawing-room, as Shirley followed with a perceptible stagger. 

Shine Taylor scrutinized his condition, as he asked for anothercigarette. As he yielded to an apparent craving for sleep, the othersdanced and chatted, while Taylor disappeared through the hall door. After a few minutes he returned to grimace slightly at Warren. Shirleyroused himself from his stupor. 

"Bonbon, let us be going. Good-night, everybody. "

He walked unsteadily to the door, amid a chorus of noisy farewells, with Helene unsteady and hilarious behind him. Warren and Shine seemedsatisfied with their hospitable endeavors, as they bade good-night. The elevator brought up two belated guests, the roseate Pinkie and acolorless youth. 

"Oh, are you going, Mr. Shirley? What a blooming shame. I just left themost wonderful supper-party at the Claridge to see you. "

"Too bad: I hope for better luck next time. "

"The elevator is waiting, " and Helene's gaze was scornful. Shirleyrestrained his smile at the girl's covert hatred of the redhairedcharmer. Then he asked maliciously: "Isn't she interesting? Too bad sheassociates with her inferiors. "

"You put it mildly. "

"Here, boy, call a taxicab, " he ordered the attendant, as they reachedthe lower level. 

"Sorry, boss, but I dassent leave the elevator at this time of night. I'm the only one in the place jest now. "

Shirley insisted, with a duty soother of silver, but the negro returnedin a few minutes, shaking his head. Shirley ordered him to telephone thenearest hacking-stand. Then followed another delay, without result. 

"Come, Miss Helene, there is method in this. Let us walk, as it seems tohave been planned we should. "

"Is it wise? Why put yourself in their net?"

For reply, he placed in her hand the walking stick which he had socarefully guarded when they entered the apartment. It was heavier than apoliceman's nightstick. As he retook it, she observed the straighteningline of his lips. 

"As the French say, 'We shall see what we shall see. ' Please walk alittle behind me, so that my right arm may be free. "

It was after two, and the street was dark. Shirley had noted anarc-light on the corner when he had entered the building--now it wasextinguished. A man lurched forward as they turned into Sixth Avenue, his eyes covered by a dark cap. 

"Say gent! Give a guy that's down an' out the price of a beef stew? Igot three pennies an' two more'll fix me. "

"No!"

"Aw, gent, have a heart!" The man was persistent, drawing closer, asShirley walked an with his companion, into the increasing darkness, awayfrom the corner. Another figure appeared from a dark doorway. 

"I'm broke too, Mister. Kin yer help a poor war refugee on a night likethis?"

Shirley slipped his left hand inside his coat pocket and drew out ahandkerchief to the surprise of the men. He suddenly drew Helene backagainst the wall, and stood between her and the two men. 

"What do you thugs want?" snapped the criminologist, as he clenched thecane tightly and held the handkerchief in his left hand. There was noreply. The men realized that he knew their purpose--one dropped to aknee position as the other sprang forward. The famous football toe shotforward with more at stake than ever in the days when the grandstandsscreeched for a field goal. At the same instant he swung the loaded caneupon the shoulders of the upright man, missing his head. 

The second man swung a blackjack. 

The first, with a bleeding face staggered to his feet. 

The handkerchief went up to the mouth of the active assailant, and toHelene's astonishment, he sank back with a moan. Shirley pounced uponhis mate, and after a slight tussle, applied the handkerchief with thesame benumbing effect. Then he rolled it up and tossed it far from him. 

He took a police whistle from his pocket and blew it three times. Hisassailants lay quietly on the ground, so that when the officer arrivedhe found an immaculately garbed gentleman dusting off his coat shoulder, and looking at his watch. 

"What is it, sir?" he cried. 

"A couple of drunks attacked me, after I wouldn't give them a handout. Then they passed away. You won't need my complaint--look at them--"

The policeman shook the men, but they seemed helpless except to groanand hold their heads in mute agony, dull and apparently unaware of whatwas going on about them. 

"Well, if you don't want to press the charge of assault?"

"No. I may have it looked up by my attorney. Tonight I do not care totake my wife to the stationhouse with me. They ought to get thirty days, at that. "

Shirley took Helene's arm, and the officer nodded. 

"I'll send for the wagon, sir. They're some pickled. Good-night. "

As they walked up to the nearest car crossing, Helene turned to him withher surprise unabated. 

"What did you do to them, Mr. Shirley?"

"Merely crushed a small vial of Amyl nitrite which I thoughtfully putin my handkerchief this afternoon. It is a chemical whose fumes are usedfor restoring people afflicted with heart failure: with men like these, and the amount of the liquid which I gave them for perfume, the resultwas the same as complete unconsciousness from drunkenness. --Science is aglorious thing, Miss Helene. "

CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH SHIRLEY SURPRISES HIMSELF

They reached the hotel without untoward adventure. 

"Perhaps we might find a little corner in that dining-room I saw thisafternoon, with an obliging waiter to bring us something to eat. Shallwe try? I need a lot of coffee, for I am going down to the dock of theYacht Club to await developments. "

"You big silly boy, " she cautioned, with a maternal note in her voicewhich was very sweet to bachelor ears from such a maiden mouth, "youmust not let Nature snap. You have a wonderful physique but you must gohome to bed. "

"It can't be done--I want to hear about your little visit to theapartment, and the story of the diary. I'll ask the clerk. "

A bill glided across the register of the hotel desk, and the greeterpromised to attend to the club sandwiches himself. He led them to acosey table, in the deserted room, and started out to send the bell-boyto a nearby lunchroom. 

"Just a minute please, --if any one calls up Miss Marigold, don't letthem know she has returned. I have something important to say, withoutinterruption: you understand?"

"Yes, I get you, sir, " and the droll part was that with a familiaritygenerated of the hotel arts he did understand even better than Shirleyor Helene. He had seen many other young millionaires and golden-hairedactresses. Shirley looked across the table into the astral blue ofthose gorgeous eyes. Certain unbidden, foolish words strove to liberatethemselves from his stubborn lips. 

"I am a consummate idiot!" was all that escaped, and Helene looked hersurprise. 

"Why, have you made a mistake?"

"I hope not. But tell me of Warren's mistake. "

She had been waiting what seemed an eternity before Van Cleft's house, when a big machine drew up alongside. Warren greeted her with a smilinginvitation to leave Shirley guessing. Her willingness to go, she felt, would disarm his suspicions. The little dinner in the apartment withShine, Warren and three girls had been in good taste enough: pretending, however, to be overcome with weariness she persuaded them to let hercuddle up on the couch, where she feigned sleep. Warren had tossed anovercoat over her and left the apartment with the others, promising toreturn in a few minutes. He had said to Shine, "She'll be quiet untilwe return--it may be a good alibi to have her here. " Then he haddisappeared, wearing only a soft hat, with no other overcoat. Listeningat the closed hall door, she heard him direct the elevator man, "Secondoff, Joe. " The door was locked from the outside. The servant's entrancewas locked, all the bedrooms locked, every one with a Yale lock abovethe ordinary keyhole. The Chinese cook had been sent out sometime beforeto buy groceries and wine for the later party. 

"But where did you find the note-book? It may send him to the electricchair. " Monty Shirley was lighting one of the cigarettes handed him byhis host. He sniffed at it and crushed out the embers at the end. "Thiscigarette would have sent me to dreamland for a day at least--Warrenunderstands as much chemistry as I do. "

"At first I studied the books in the library out of curiosity and thennoticed that three books were shoved in, out of alignment with theothers on the shelf. With a manservant in the house, instead of a woman, of course things needed dusting. But where these three books were ithad been rubbed off! I took out the books, reached behind and found thelittle leather volume. It was simple. I went to his typewriter when Isaw that the pages were all typed, and took out some note-paper, fromthe bronze rack. "

"And then, Miss Sleuth?"

"Don't laugh at me. I had heard of the legal phrase 'corroborativeevidence, ' so knowing that it would be necessary to connect thattypewriter with the book, I rattled off a few lines on the machine. Hereit is: it will show the individuality of the machine to an expert. "

"You wonderful girl!" he murmured simply. She protested, "Don't teaseme. I have watched you and am learning some of your simple but completemethods of working. I understand you better than you think. "

"Go on with your story, " and Shirley was uncomfortable, although he knewnot why. 

"That is the end of my tale of woe. The kitchen being open, I tookadvantage of the dumb-waiter, as you already know. It's fortunate thatwaiter is dumb, for it must have many lurid confessions to make. I neversaw such an interminable shaft; it seemed higher than the Eiffel Tower. See how I blistered my hands on the rope, letting myself down. "

She opened her palms, showing the red souvenirs of the coarse strands. Almost unconsciously she placed her soft fingers within Shirley's for abrief instant. She quickly drew them away, sensing a blush beneaththe cosmetics, glad that he could not detect it. That gentle contactthrilled Shirley again, even as the dear memory of the tired cheekagainst his shoulder, during the automobile trip of the previous night. 

"After finding you so accidentally and returning with your aid, on thelittle elevator, I threw myself back into the original pose on thebig couch. It was just in time, for Warren returned. His cook came inshortly afterward. I imagine that he allows no one in that apartment, ordinarily, when he is not there himself. But what, sir, do you think Idiscovered upon the shoulder of his coat?"

Shirley shook his head. "A beautiful crimson hair, " he asked gravely, "from the sun-kissed forehead of the delectable Pinkie? Or was it white, from the tail of the snowy charger which tradition informs us alwayslurks in the vicinity of auburn-haired enchantresses?"

"Nothing so romantic. Just cobwebs! He saw me looking at them, andbrushed them off very quickly. "

"The man thinks he is a wine bottle of rare vintage!" observed Shirley. But the jest was only in his words. He looked at her seriously andthen rapt in thought, closed his eyes the better to aid his mentalcalculation. "He got off at the second floor--He wore no overcoat--Ablack silk handkerchief--cobwebs--and that garage on the other street, through the block! Miss Helene, you are a splendid ally!"

"Won't you tell me what you mean about the garage? Who were those menwho attacked you? What happened since I deserted you?"

But Shirley provokingly shook his head, as he drew out his watch. 

"It is half-past two. I must hurry down to East Twenty-fifth Street andthe East River, at the yacht club mooring, before three. Tomorrow I willgive you my version in some quiet restaurant, far from the gadding crowdof the White Light district. "

He rose, drawing back his chair; they walked to the elevator together. The clerk beckoned politely. 

"A gent named Mr. Warren telephoned to ask if you were home yet, MissMarigold. I told him not yet. Was that wrong?"

"It was very kind of you. Thank you so much, " and Helene's smile wasthe cause of an uneasy flutter in the breast of the blase clerk. "Good-night. "

"That's a lucky guy, at that, Jimmie, " confided the clerk to thebell-boy. "She is some beauty show, ain't she? And she's on the righttrack, too. "

"Yep, but she's too polite to be a great actress or a star. Hertemper'ment ain't mean enough!" responded this Solomon in brass buttons. "I hopes we gits invited to the wedding!"

Outside, Shirley enjoyed the stimulus of the bracing early morning air. A new inspiration seemed to fire him, altogether dissimilar to the glowwhich he was wont to feel when plunging into a dangerous phase of aprofessional case. He slowly drew from his pocket the typed note-paperwhich had nestled in such enviable intimacy with that courageous heart. The faint fragrance of her exquisite flesh clung to it still. He heldit to his lips and kissed it. Then he stopped, to turn about and lookupward at the tall hostelry behind him. High up below the renaissancecornice he beheld the lights glow forth in the rooms which he knew wereHelene's. 

As he hurried to the club, he muttered angrily to himself: "I have madeone discovery, at least, in this unusual exploit. I find that I havelost what common sense I possessed when I became a Freshman at college!"

CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE RISING TIDE

A hurried message to the Holland Agency brought four plain clothes menfrom the private reserve, under the leadership of superintendent Cleary. Monty met them at the doorway of the club house, wearing a rough andtumble suit. 

They sped downtown, toward the East River, the criminologist on theseat where he could direct the driver. At Twenty-sixth Street, nearthe docks, they dismounted and Shirley gave his directions to thedetectives. 

"I want you to slide along these doorways, working yourselves separatelydown the water front until you are opposite the yacht club landing. Iwill work on an independent line. You must get busy when I shoot, yellor whistle, --I can't tell which. As the popular song goes, 'You're hereand I'm here, so what do we care?' This is a chance for the HollandAgency to get a great story in the papers for saving young Van Cleftfrom the kidnappers. "

He left them at the corner, and crossing to the other pavement, beganto stagger aimlessly down the street, looking for all the world like alongshoreman returning home from a bacchanalian celebration fromsome nearby Snug Harbor. It was a familiar type of pedestrian in thisneighborhood at this time of the morning. 

"That guy's a cool one, Mike, " said Cleary to one of his men. "Thesecollege ginks ain't so bad at that when you get to know 'em with theirdress-suits off. "

"He's a reg'lar feller, that's all, " was Mike's philosophical response. "Edjication couldn't kill it in 'im. "

A hundred yards offshore was the beautiful steam yacht of the VanClefts', the "White Swan. " Lights on the deck and a few glowingportholes showed unusual activity aboard. Shirley's hint to Warren aboutthe contemplated trip to southern climes was the exact truth. Nakedtruth, he had found, was ofttimes a more valuable artifice thanMunchausen artistry of the most consummate craft! The longshoreman, apparently befuddled in his bearings, wandered toward the dock, whichprotruded into the river, a part of the club property. He staggered, tumbled and lay prostrate on the snowy planks. 

Then he crawled awkwardly toward one of the big spiles at the side ofthe structure, where he passed into a profound slumber. This, too, wasa conventional procedure for the neighborhood! A man walked across thestreet, from the darkness of a deserted hallway: he gave the somnolentone a kick. The longshoreman grunted, rolled over, and continued tosnore obliviously. 

An automobile honk-honked up Twenty-third Street, and then swung aroundin a swift curve toward the dock. The investigating kicker slunk away, down the street. The limousine drew up at the entrance to the tendergangway. Accompanied by a portly servant, a young man in a fur coat, stepped from the machine. 

"Give them another call with your horn, Sam, " he directed. "The boatwill be in for me, then. "

This was done. A scraping noise came from the hanging stairway of thedock, and a voice called up from the darkness: "Here we are, sir!"Howard Van Cleft leaned over the edge and looked down, somewhatnervously. A reassuring word came up from the boat, rocking against thespiles. 

"You was a bit late, sir. You said three, Mr. Van Cleft, and now it'sten after. So the captain sent us in to wait for you. Everything'sshipshape, sir, steam up, and all the supplies aboard. Climb right downthe ladder, sir. Steady now, lads!"

This seemed to presage good. Van Cleft turned to his butler. 

"Take down the luggage, Edward. Goodbye, Sam. Keep an eye on themachines. The folks will attend to everything for you while I am away. Good-bye. "

The butler had delivered the baggage and now returned up the ladder, puffing with his exertions. 

"Good-bye, sir, " and his voice was more emotional than usual. "Watchyourself, sir, if you please, sir. You're the last Van Cleft, andwe need you, sir. " The old man touched his hat, and climbed into theautomobile, as Van Cleft climbed down the ladder. The machine sped awayunder the skilful guidance of Sam. 

"Steady, sir, steady--There, we have you now, sir, --Quick, men! Up theriver with the tide. Row like hell!--Keep your oars muffled--here comesthe other boat. "

All this seemed naturally the accompaniment of the embarkment of VanCleft's yachting cruise, but the sleeping longshoreman suddenly arose tohis feet and blew a shrill police whistle. Next instant the flash ofhis pocket-lamp illumined the dark boat below him. A volley of cursesgreeted this untoward action! A revolver barked from the hand of a bigman in the stern. Young Van Cleft lay face downward in the boat, neatlygagged and bound. As the light still flickered over the surprisedoarsmen, an answering shot evidenced better aim. The man in the back ofthe bobbing vessel groaned as he fell forward upon the prostrate body ofthe pinioned millionaire. One oarsman disappeared over the side of theboat, to glide into the unfathomable darkness, with skilful strokes. 

"Hold still! I'll kill the first man who makes a move!"

As Shirley's voice rang out, Cleary with his assistants was dashingacross the open space to the end of the dock. 

"Shove out that boat-hook and hold onto the dock!" was the additionalorder, accompanied by a punctuation mark in the form of another bulletwhich splintered the gunwale of the boat. Looking as they were, into thedazzling eye of the bulb light, the men were uncertain of the number oftheir assailants: surrender was natural. Cleary's men made quick workof them. The boat from the yacht now hove to by this time, filled withexcited and profane sailormen. The skipper of the "White Swan, " revolverdrawn, stood in its bow as it bumped against the stairway. Howard VanCleft was unbound: dazed but happy he tried to talk. 

"What--why--who?" he mumbled. 

"Pat Cleary, from the Holland Detective Agency, " was Shirley's response. "There, handcuff these men quick. Two cops are coming. We want thecredit of this job before the rookies beat us to it. "

Van Cleft recognized the speaker, and caught his hand fervently. Shirley, though, was too busy for gratitude. He gave another quickdirection. 

"Hurry on board your yacht tender and get underway. Your life isn'tworth a penny if you stay in town another hour. These men will beattended to. Good luck and goodbye. "

The young man rapidly transferred his luggage to his own boat. Theywere soon out of view on their way to the larger vessel. Shirley turnedtoward Cleary. 

"I'll file the charge against these two men. They tried to rob me andmake their getaway in this boat. You were down here as a bodyguard forVan Cleft, who, of course, knew nothing about the matter as he left forhis cruise. So his name can be kept out of it entirely. And the factthat you helped to save him from paying fifty thousand dollars inblackmail, will not injure the size of Captain Cronin's bill. Get me?"

"It's got!" laughed Cleary. 

Two patrolmen were dumfounded when they reached the spot to find fourmen in handcuffs in charge of six armed guardians. The superintendentexplained the situation as laid out by Shirley. The cavalcade took itsway to the East Twenty-first Street Police Station, where the complaintwas filed. Sullen and perplexed about their failure, the men were alllocked in their cells, after their leader had his shoulder dressed by aninterne summoned from the nearby Bellevue Hospital. 

Shirley and Cleary returned with the others to the waiting automobile, after these formalities. The prisoners had been given the customaryopportunity to telephone to friends, but strangely enough did not availthemselves of it. 

"We're cutting down the ranks of the enemy, Cleary, " observed thedetective as he lit a cigarette. "But I wonder who it was that escapedin the water?"

"He'll be next in the net. But say, Mr. Shirley, what percentage do youget for all this work, I'm awondering?" was the answering query. Thecriminologist laughed. 

"Thanks, my dear man, simply thanks. That's a rare thing for awell-to-do man to get since the I. W. W. Proved to the world that it's acrime for a man to own more than ten dollars, or even to earn it! ButI wish you would drop me off about half a block from the SomersetApartments, on Fifty-sixth Street. I want to watch for a late arrival. "

He waited in the shadows of the houses on the opposite side of thestreet. After half an hour he was rewarded by the sight of Mr. ShineTaylor dismounting from a taxicab. The young gentleman wore a heavyovercoat over a bedraggled suit. One of his snowy spats was missing;his hat was dripping, still, from its early immersion. He entered thebuilding, after a cautious survey of the deserted street, with a stiffand exhausted gait. 

Shirley was satisfied with this new knot in the string. He returned tohis rooms at the club, to gain fresh strength for the trailing on themorrow. And this time, he felt that he deserved his rest!

Next morning, after his usual plunge and rub-down, he ordered breakfastin his rooms. He instructed the clerk to send up a Remwood typewriter, and began his experiments with the code of the diary. 

From an old note-book, in which were tabulated the order of letterrecurrences according to their frequency in ordinary English words, hefreshened his memory. This was the natural sequence, in direct ratio tothe use of the letters: "E: T: A: O: N: I: S: B: M, etc. " The use of "E"was double that of any other. Yet on the pages of the book he found thatthe most frequently recurring symbol was "R" which was, ordinarily, oneof the least used in the alphabet. "T, " which would have been secondin popularity, naturally, was seen only a few times in proportion. "Y, "also seldom used, appeared very often. The symbol "A" was used withsurprising frequency. 

"Let me see, " he mused. "This code is strictly typewritten. It must bearranged on some mechanical twist of the typing method. A is used somany times that it might be safe to assume that it is used for a space, as all the words in this code run together. If A is used that way, what takes its place? S would by rights be seventh on the list, but theaverage I have made shows that it is about third or fourth. "

Carefully he jotted down in separate columns on a piece of paper theindividual repetitions of letters on the page of "January 7, 1915. " Hearrived at the conclusion, then, that "R" was used for "E, " that "S"took the place of "A" and that "Y" alternated in this cipher for "T"which was second on his little list. 

Fur the benefit of the reader who may be interested enough to workout this little problem, along the lines of Shirley's deductions thearrangement of the so-called "Standard" keyboard is here shown, as itwas on the "Number Four" machine of Warren's Remwood, and the duplicatemachine which Shirley was using. 

 Q W E R T Y U I O P

 A S D F G H J K L;

 Z X C V B N M, . 

 Shift SPACE BAR Shift Key Key

This diagram represents the "lower case" or small letters, capitalsbeing made by holding down one of the shift keys on either side, andstriking the other letter at the same time, there being two symbols oneach metal type key. As only small letters were used through the codeShirley did not bother about the capitals. He realized at last, that ifhis theory of substitution were correct the writer had struck the keyto the right of the three frequent letters. He had the inception of thescheme. 

Starting with the first line of the sentences so jumbled on the pagefor January 7, 1915, he began to reverse the operation, copying it off, hitting on the typewriter the keyboard letter to the left of the oneindicated in the order of the cipher. 

The result was gratifying. He continued for several lines, havingtrouble only with the letter "P. " At last he realized that the onlysubstitution for that could be "Q. " In other words, "A" had been usedfor the space letter throughout, and for all the other symbols the oneon the right had been struck, except "P" which being at the end of theline had been merely swung to the first letter on the other end of it!

No wonder Warren had been so confident of its baffling simplicity! Manyof the well-known rules for reading codes would not work with this one, and had it not been for Shirley's suspicion, aroused in the libraryof the arch-schemer the night before, he would hardly have given thetypewriter, as a mechanical aide, a second thought. Warren's desire todrop the subject of machines had planted a dangerous seed. 

Laboriously Shirley typed off the material of the entire page for thefatal Thursday, and his elation knew no bounds as he realized that herewas a key to many of the activities of his enemy. He donned his hat andcoat and hurried over to the Hotel California to show his discoveryto Helene. She invited him up to her suite at once, where he wasted nowords but exhibited the triumphant result of his efforts. He handed herhis own transcription, and this is what she read:

"January 7, 1915, Thursday. 

"learned from bank de cleyster drew six thousand in morning monk assignedto taxi work for tea shine assigned to fix generator margie fairfax datewith de cleyster at five, shine and joe hawley covering game jake andben assigned black car for me paid phil one hundred covering specialwork job finished riverside drive at eighty third sharp deposited nightand day four thousand safe deposit fifteen hundred lent dolly marion twohundred for dress for party with van cleft next afternoon advanced shineone thousand to cover option of yacht sunbeam paid to broker that nightordered provisions telephone for yacht two month cruise monk assignedfor job next day advanced shine five hundred on account work onwellington serral matter repairs black machine fifty party apartmentsame night champagne one hundred fifty caterer one hundred tips fiftyfive to janitor taxis twelve must stir phil up on work for grimsbymatter memorandum arrange for yacht mooring on east river instead ofnorth after wednesday eighth job finis memorandum settle telephoneexchange proceeds not later than monday paid electrician special wiringtwo hundred in full settlement. "

"There, Miss Helene, how do you like my little game of letter building?"

There was a boyish gleam of triumph in his smile as he turned towardher. 

"You are a wizard, but how did you work it all out?" There was nosmile in her face, only a mingled horror at the revelations of thiscalculating monster in his businesslike murder work, and an unfeignedadmiration for Shirley's keenness. 

"A very old method, but one which would have availed for naught withoutyour help. The letter paper which you used and the unmistakable identityof Warren's machine are two more bars of iron with which to imprisonhim. The paper of that note is the same on which they wrote to VanCeft for money, and their threats to me. This shows from a microscopicexamination of its texture. I will give the whole book to a trustworthystenographer: more than six months of these little confessions aretabulated here. Warren was evidently so used to this code that he couldwrite in it as easily as I do with the straight alphabet. His trainingin German universities developed a thoroughness, a methodical recordingof every thing, which is apt to cost him dearly. And his undoubtedvanity prompted him to have a little volume of his own in that libraryto which he could turn occasionally for the retrospection of his owncleverness. Now, I must investigate this clever telephone system. Ithink I have the clue necessary. "

He intrusted the book to Helene for the morning, promising to returnin an hour or two with new information, drolly refusing to tell her hisdestination. 

"You're a bad, bold boy, and should be spanked, for not letting someone know where to look for you in case you get into difficulties, " shepouted. "Perhaps I will do some equally foolish thing myself. "

"If you knew how you frightened me yesterday!" he began. 

"Did you really worry and really care?" But Shirley had slipped out ofthe door, leaving her to wonder, and then begin that long delayed letterto Jack. 

CHAPTER XIX. AN EXPEDITION UNDERGROUND

The criminologist picked his way through the swarming vehicles whichswung up and down Broadway, across to Seventh Avenue, where he turnedinto a plumber's shop. This fellow had handled small jobs on Shirley'sextensive real estate holdings, and he was naturally delighted to do afavor in the hope of obtaining new work. 

"Mike, I want to borrow an old pair of overalls, a jumper and one ofthose blue caps hanging up on your wall. And I need some plumbers'tools, as well, for a little joke I am to play on one of my friends. "

The workman was astounded at such a request from his rich client, but nodded willingly. The dirtiest of the clothes answered Shirley'srequirements and with soot rubbed over his face and hands, his hairdisarranged, he satisfied his artistic craving for detail. He wastransformed into a typical leadpipe brigand. Hanging his own garments inthe closet, after transferring his automatic revolver into the pocket ofthe jeans, he started out, carrying the furnace pot, and looking like aunion-label article. 

He reached the Somerset by a roundabout walk, passing more than one ofhis acquaintances with inward amusement at their failure to recognizehim. He had arranged for Helene to invite Shine Taylor and ReginaldWarren down to call on her at the apartment in the California at thisparticular time. So thus he felt that the coast was clear. At thetradesmen's entrance, where he had gone before to hoist on thedumbwaiter, he entered the building. An investigation of the basementshowed him that in the rear of the building were one large and two smallcourts or air shafts. Then he ascended the iron stairway to the streetlevel of the vestibule. 

"Say, bo, I come to fix de pipes on de second floor, " was hisself-introduction to the haughty negro attendant. "Dey're leakin' an' meboss tells me to git on de job in a hustle. "

"Which one? I ain't heard o' no leaks. It must be in de empty apartmentin de rear, kase dat old maid in de front would been kickin' my foolhead off ef she's had any trouble. She's always grouchy. "

"Sure, dingy, it's de empty one in de rear. Lemme in an' I'll fix it. "

"You-all better see de superintendent. People is apt to be lookin' atdat apartment to-day to rent it, an' he mightn't want no plumber mussin'round. I'll go hunt 'im fer you-all. "

"Say, you jest lemme in now. I'm paid by de hour. You knows what plumberbills is, an' your superintendent'll fire you if he has to pay tendollars' overtime 'cause you hold me up. "

This was superior logic. The negro took him up and opened the door. Shirley entered, and peered out of the court window in the rear. Helene's suggestion about the dust was applicable here, for he foundall the windows coated except the one opening upon the areaway. Below heobserved a stone paving with a cracked surface. It was semidark, but hiselectric pocket-light enabled him to observe one piece of the rock whichseemed entirely detached. Shirley investigated the closets of the emptyapartment. In one of them he discovered the object of his search. Itwas a knotted rope. He first observed the exact way in which it had beenfolded in order to replace it without suspicion being aroused. Then hetook it to the small window of the air shafts hanging it on a hook whichwas half concealed behind the ledge. Down this he lowered himself, handover hand. The stone was quickly lifted--it was hinged on the undersurface. In the dark hole which was before him there was an iron ladder. Down he went, into the utter blackness. His outstretched hands apprisedhim that he was at the beginning of a walled tunnel, through whichhe groped in a half-upright position. He reached an iron door, andremembering his direction calculated that this must be at the rearentrance of the old garage on West Fifty-fifth Street. It opened, as heswung a heavy iron bar, fitted with a curious mechanism resembling thefront of a safe. Softly he entered, carrying his heavy boots in hishand. All was still within, and he shot the glow ray of his little lampabout him. As the reader may guess, it was the rear room of Warren'sprivate spider-web! The table, facing the screen was surmounted by aningenious telephone switchboard. 

Shirley examined this closely. The various plugs were labelled:"Rector, " "Flatbush, " "Jersey City, " "Main, " "Morningside, " and othernames which Shirley recognized as "central" stations of the telephonecompany. Here was the partial solution of the mysterious calls. Hedetermined to test the service!

He took up the telephone receiver and sent the plug into the orificeunder the label, "Co. " wondering what that might be. Soon there was ananswer. 

"Yes, Chief. What is it?"

"How's everything?" was Shirley's hoarse remark. "I find connections badin the Bronx? What's the matter?"

"I'll send one of the outside men up there to see, Chief. There's a newexchange manager there, and he may be having the wires inspected. Butmy tap is on the cable behind the building. I don't see how he could getwise. "

Shirley smiled at this inadvertent betrayal of the system: wire tappingwith science. He was able to trap the confederate with his own mesh ofcopper now. 

"I want to see you right away. Some cash for you. I'm sick with a coldin the throat so don't keep me waiting. Go up town and stand in thedoorway at 192 West Forty-first Street. Don't let anybody see you whileyou wait there, so keep back out of sight. How soon can you be there?"

"Oh, in half an hour if I hurry. Any trouble? You certainly have a bumvoice, Chief. But how will I know it's you?"

"I'll just say, 'Telephone, ' and then you come right along with me, to aplace I have in mind. Don't be late, now! Good-bye. "

Shirley drew out the connection and tried the exchange labelled"Rector. " Instantly a pleasant girl's voice inquired the number desired. 

"Bryant 4802-R. "

This was the Hotel California. 

The operator on the switchboard of the hostelry replied. 

"Give me Miss Marigold's apartment, please. "

Helene's voice was soon on the wire. Shirley asked for Warren in a grufftone. 

"What do you want?" was that gentleman's musical inquiry, in the toneswhich were already so familiar to the criminologist. 

"Chief, dis is de Rat. I wants to meet you down at de Blue Goose onWater Street in half an hour. Kin you'se come? It's important. "

The other was evidently mystified. 

"The Rat? What do you mean? I don't know you. Ring off!"

Shirley heard the other receiver click. He held the wire, reasoningout the method of the intriguer. Soon there was a buzz in his ear, andWarren's voice came to him. It was droll, this reversal of the originalmethod, which had been so puzzling. 

"What number is this?"

"Rector 4471, sir, " answered the criminologist in the best falsetto tonehe could muster. Then he disconnected with a smile. This was turning thetables with a vengeance. But he knew that he must be getting away fromthe den before the possible investigation by Warren or his lieutenant. There were many things he would have liked to study about the place. But his curiosity about the telephone had made it impossible for him toremain. It was a costly mistake, as events were destined to prove!

He hurried out of the compartment, into the tunnel, up the rope andthrough the window. He replaced the knotted rope, exactly as it had beenbefore. He put a few drippings of molten lead from the bubbling pot, under the wash-stand of the bathroom, to carry out the illusion of hiswork as plumber. Then he departed from the building, as he had entered. 

In ten minutes he was changing his garments in Mike's plumbing shop, with a fabulous story of the excruciating joke he had played upon a sickfriend. Then he walked rapidly to the doorway at 192 West Forty-firstStreet. 

Back against the wall of this empty store entry, lounged apleasant-looking young man who puffed at a perfecto. Shirley steppedin, and in a low tone, said: "Telephone. " The other started visibly, andscrutinized the well-groomed club man from head to foot. 

"Well, Chief, you're a surprise. I never thought you looked like that. Where will we go?"

"Over to the gambling house a friend of mine runs, just around thecorner. There we can talk in quiet. "

Shirley led the way, restraining the smile which itched to betray hisenjoyment of the situation. The other studied him with sidelong glancesof unabated astonishment. They were soon going up the steps of theHolland Agency, which looked for all the world, with its closedshutters, and quiet front, like a retreat for the worshipers of DameFortune. Cronin fortunately did not believe in signs. So the young manwas not suspicious, even when Shirley gave three knocks upon the door, to be admitted by the sharp-nosed guardian of the portal. 

"Tell Cleary to come downstairs, Nick, " said the criminologist. "I wanthim to meet a friend of mine. "

The superintendent was soon speeding two steps at a time. 

"The Captain is back, Mr. Shirley, " he exclaimed. "He's in the privateoffice on a couch. "

"Good, then we'll take my friend right to him. "

The stranger was beginning to evidence uneasiness, and he turnedquestioningly to his conductor, with a growing frown. 

"Say, what are you leading me into, Chief?"

Shirley said nothing but strode to the rear of the floor, through thedoor of Captain Cronin's sanctum. The old detective was covered witha steamer shawl, as he stretched out on a davenport. The young manobserved the photographs around the room, --an enormous collection ofdouble-portraits of profile and front face views--the advertized crooksfor whom Cronin had his nets spread in a dozen cases. The handcuffs onthe desk, the measuring stand, the Bertillon instruments on the table, all these aroused his suspicions instantly. 

He whirled about, angrily. 

Shirley smiled in his face. Then he addressed the surprised CaptainCronin. 

"Here is our little telephone expert who arranged the wires for Warrenand his gang, Captain. You are welcome to add him to your growingcollection of prisoners. "

For answer the young man whipped out a revolver and fired point-blank atthe criminologist. His was a ready trigger finger. But he was no swifterthan the convalescent detective on the couch, who had swung a sixshooter from a mysterious fold of the steamer blanket, and planted abullet into the man's shoulder from the rear. 

As the smoke cleared away, Shirley straightened up from the crouchingposition on the floor which had saved him from the assassin, and draggedthe wounded criminal to his feet. The handcuffs clicked about his wristsbefore the young man had grasped the entire situation. Cleary and threeothers of the private force were in the room. 

"I've got to hurry along now, Captain. Just let him know that his Chiefis captured and the sooner he turns State's evidence the better it willbe for him. The District Attorney might make it lighter, if he helps. I'll be back this evening if I can. " And Shirley hurried away, leavingmuch surprise and bewilderment in every mind. 

Cronin was equal to the task of picking up the threads, and underhis sarcasm, and Cleary's rough arguments, the prisoner admitted someinteresting matters about the mysterious employer whose face he hadnever seen. But Shirley's task was far from completed. 

CHAPTER XX. A DOUBLE ON THE TRAIL

Shirley walked up to the Hotel California, at the door of which he metWarren and Taylor just leaving. They looked somewhat embarrassed but hismanner was cordiality itself. 

"Sorry you are going. I was just stepping up to see Miss Marigold. Won'tyou come back?"

His invitation was refused. Then Shirley urged Warren to be his guestat the club for dinner that evening. This was accepted with a surprisingalacrity. So, he left them, and was soon talking with Helene. 

"You missed a curious little sociable party, " she assured him. "Theytried to quiz me, and I confess that I worked for the same purpose--noresults on either side. But, Warren had an unusual telephone call, whichdisturbed him so much that he hurried away, sooner than he had planned. "

Shirley recounted his explorations of the afternoon, with theexplanation of Reginald's disturbance. It was certain now that theleader of the assassins had something to cause uneasiness, --enough totake his mind off the campaign of murder and blackmail. 

"But he will try to get you out of the way, " was her anxious answer. "You are multiplying needless dangers. Why don't you have him arrestednow--the phonograph records will identify his voice, will they not? Thediary will show his career, and everything seems complete in the case. "

Shirley sat down in the window-seat, before replying. 

"It is just my own vanity, then, perhaps. I am foolish enough to believethat I can trap him on some crime which will give him the completepunishment he deserves without dragging in the names of theseunfortunate old society men. All our trouble would be for nothing, justnow, if the story came out. The phonograph records helped me--butI prefer to keep that method to myself, as a matter of interest andselfishness. Somewhere, in that beautiful apartment of his there must beclues which will send him to the electric chair on former crimes: Warrenis an artist who has handled other brushes than the ones he used on thismasterpiece. He is not a beginner. So, I must ransack his apartment. "

"That is impossible, with all the care he takes with bolts and locks. "

"We shall see. Meanwhile, I'll spin the yarn of the last thirty-sixhours. I'm sure your curiosity is whetted: my own is by no meanssatisfied. "

So he gave her a survey of the progress he had made. Helene broughtforth a number of typewritten pages which she had transcribed from thediary, proudly exhibiting a machine which she had ordered sent up fromthe hotel office. 

"There, sir, we are unwinding the ravelings of his past life to anextent. I have found a mysterious reference to a Montfluery case inParis, during August of last year. What can you do to investigate thatlead?"

Shirley jotted down the name, and answered: "A cable to the prefectureof Police of the city of Paris from Captain Cronin will bring details. That should be an added link in the chain, within the next twenty-fourhours. I am going to leave you for the while, as I wish to investigate acertain yacht which is moored in the East River. That yacht is there fora purpose--you remember his reference to the payment of supplies fora two-month cruise. My amateurish vanity leads me to a hope that I cancapture him just at the crucial moment when he thinks he is successfulin his escape from pursuit. "

"That is the childishness of the masculine mind, " retorted Helene. "Yousay we women are illogical, but we are essentially practical in thesmall things. I would advise closing the doors before the horse escapes, rather than a chase from behind!"

"Perhaps, " answered Monty, "but the uncertainty does allure me. I alwaysenjoyed skating on thin ice, from the days of college when I loved toget through a course of lectures on as little work as possible. Thesatisfaction of 'getting away with it' against odds was so exhilarating. I will return after my little dinner with Warren at the Club. Where willyou dine?"

"Your friend Dick Holloway is taking me to some restaurant where singingand music may alter my refusal to him. "

"Your refusal?" and Shirley shot a quick glance at the girl. Her dimplesappeared as she added: "Yes--he wants me to star in a little play forthe coming spring, but I have had such fun playing in real-life dramathat I said him nay. "

"Oh, " was all the criminologist said, but as he left, Helene's laughinterpretated a little feminine satisfaction. Monty's mind was justdisturbed enough about the attitude of Dick Holloway to keep him fromworrying over the Warren case until he had reached the East River, nearthe yacht club mooring. 

There was the white yacht which had been mentioned in the purloinedbook. It was a trim, speedy craft. The criminologist walked down a fewblocks to the office of a boat contractor with whom he had dealt onbygone occasions. 

"I want to engage a fast motor-boat, Mr. Manby, " was his request. "Thespeediest thing you've got. Keep it down at your dock, at Twenty-firstStreet, with plenty of gasoline and a man on duty all the time, startingwith six o'clock to-night. I may need it at a minute's notice. "

"I've got a hydroplane which I'll sell this spring to some yachtsman, "said Manby. "It's a bargain--you can do forty miles an hour in it, without getting a drop of spray. Shall I show it to you?"

"Yes, and the two men who you will have alternating on duty, so theywill know me when I come for it. I'll pay for every minute it isreserved. "

They soon came to terms; the men were introduced and Shirley was wellsatisfied with the racing craft, which was moored according to hisdirections, handy for a quick embarkation. 

Then he went up to the Holland Agency. Cronin was disappointed inhis results with the telephone confederate. All of Warren's men wereclose-mouthed, as though through some biting fear of swift and unerringvengeance for "squealing. " Even the prisoners in the station-house hadnot volunteered to communicate with friends, as they were allowed todo by law. They were "standing pat, " as the old detective declared indisgust. 

"That proves one thing, " remarked the criminologist. "They are not localproducts, or they would have friends other than their chief on whom tocall for bail or aid. Their whole work centers on him. I think I willsend a code message to this man Phil this afternoon or evening. He maybe able to read it, and if he does, it may assist us. I wish you wouldhave a man call on Miss Marigold at the California Hotel, so that shemay know his face. Then keep him covering her for they are apt to getsuspicious of her and try to quiet her. She is a game and fearless girl, but she is no match for this gang. "

Cronin assigned one of the men immediately, and the sleuth took up anote of introduction to Helene, in which Monty explained the need forhis watch. 

Shirley then repaired to the club house to await his dinner guest. Hewas thoughtful about the alacrity of Warren to dine with him. There wasmore to this assumed friendliness than the mere desire to talk to him. 

"I wonder if he wants to keep me occupied for some certain reason?"pondered the club man. "Helene is protected now by a silent watcher. Themembers of the Lobster Club are all out of the city. Van Cleft is safeon the ocean. They must be laying a trap. I wonder where that trap wouldbe?"

As he looked about his rooms he realized that many important pieces ofevidence were locked up in his chests and the small safe. His bedroom, in the uppermost floor of the club building, was in a quiet and lessfrequented part of the house. Shirley summoned one of the shrewdJapanese valets who worked on the dormitory floors of the building. 

"Chen, " he began. "Are you a good fighter?"

The Mongolian grinned characteristically. Shirley took out a bill, andhanded it to the little fellow. 

"I have reason to think some one may come into my rooms to-night, whileI am busy downstairs. How would you like to lock yourself on the insideof my clothes closet, and wait? The air is not very good, but with thisten dollars you could take a nice ride in the country to-morrow, and getlots of good oxygen in your lungs to make up for it. "

Chen was a willing little self-jailer. Shirley handed him his ownrevolver, and the slant eyes sparkled with glee at the opportunity forsome excitement. Americans may carp at the curious manners and allegedshortcomings of the Oriental, but personal fear does not seem to be inthe category of their faults. So, with this little valet, who improvedhis time, as Shirley had discovered, by taking special courses inColumbia University's scientific department. The criminologist had usedhim on more than one occasion when Eastern subtlety and apparent lack ofguile had accomplished the impossible!

The closet door was closed, and Shirley went downstairs. At the desk ofthe, club clerk he sent a cablegram to the police authorities of Paris. The message was simple

"Cable collect to Holland Detective Agency name and record of man inMontfleury case, August, 1914. Do you want him?. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Cronin, Captain. "

Shirley smiled as he handed the envelope to the little messenger who hadbeen summoned, and made his exit through the front doorway just as theaffable Reginald Warren entered it: another instance of "ships that passin the night, " was the thought of the host who advanced courteously. 

"You are on time to the minute: German training, I see. Let the boy haveyour hat and coat, Mr. Warren. "

These little amenities completed, they sauntered about the beautifulbuilding, Shirley pointing out the many interesting photographs ofathletic teams, trophies, club posters, portraits of famous graduates, and the like, which seem part and parcel of collegiate atmosphere. Warren was profoundly interested, yet there was an abstraction in hisconversation which was not unobserved by his entertainer. As they passeda tall, colonial clock in the broad hallway, Shirley caught him glancinguneasily at it. This was the second time he had looked at its silveredface since they came into the range of it. Purposely the club man tookhim down the length of the big dining-hall, to exhibit the trophies ofthe hunt, from jungles and polar regions, contributed by the sportsmenmembers of past classes. Here Shirley chatted about this and that boar'shead, yonder elephant hide, the other tiger skin, until he had consumedadditional time. As they passed into the lounging room Shirley led hisguest past another small mahogany clock. Again the sharp, anxiousglance at the progress of the minutes. He was convinced by now that somedeviltry was being perfected on schedule time. He began to worry overhis little assistant on the floor high above: perhaps he would not beable to cope with the plotters, after all. Yet, Chen was wiry, cunning, and needed no diagrams as to the purpose for which he was to guard therooms. 

At last Shirley led Warren to the grill-room where they ordered theirdinner: the supreme test of a gentleman is his taste in the menu for adiscriminating guest. Warren sensed this, as the delicious viands andrare old wines were brought out in a combination which would have warmedthe heart cockles of the fussiest old gourmon from Goutville!

"Ah, a feast fit for the gods, " were his admiring words, as the two mensmiled across this strange board of hospitality. In the midst ofthe meal, their chat of student days was interrupted by a page whoapproached Shirley. 

"Begging your pardon, sir, but I have a note which was left here bymessenger for a gentleman named Mr. R. Warren; your guest, I believe, sir?"

Warren's face flushed, and his surprise was indubitable. He snatchedthe envelope from the boy, who had reached it toward Shirley. Thecriminologist was no less in the dark. Warren, with a scant apology, tore open the missive. It was typewritten! He read it, and his browscame together with an angry scowl. 

He arose from his seat swiftly, turning toward Shirley with a nervoustwitching of the erstwhile firm lips. 

"Would you pardon me if I ran? A Wall Street client of mine has suddenlybeen stricken with apoplexy. We have deals together, dependent upongentlemen's agreements, without a word of writing. It may mean a fortuneto get to him before he loses all power of speech. It is a shame tospoil, at this time, such a wonderful dinner as I had promised myselfwith you. Can you forgive me?"

The man was visibly panic-stricken, although his superb nerve wasfighting hard to cover his terror. Shirley wondered what news could havefallen into his hand this way. He watched the envelope, hoping that hewould inadvertently drop it. But no such luck! Warren carefully foldedit and put it with the letter into the breast pocket of his coat. 

"My dear fellow, business before indigestion, always! I am sorry to haveyou go, but we will try again. I will go upstairs with you. Shall I calla taxicab for you?"

Warren expostulated, but the host followed him to the check room. Unseenby Warren, Shirley inserted a handkerchief from his own pocket into theovercoat pocket of the other with a sleight-of-hand substitution, in thewithdrawal of the guest's small linen square!

Warren rushed to the door. He sprang into the first taxicab that camealong, and disappeared. Shirley watched the car as it raced away andnoticed its number. He turned to the door man. 

"Whose machine was that? On the regular club stand here?"

"Yes, sir. A man named Perkins drives it, sir. "

"Will it return here as soon as the fare is taken to the end of thetrip?"

"Yes, sir, they have orders for that. They belong to a gent who suppliescars for our club exclusively, sir. They are not allowed to take outsidepassengers. "

"Very good! You send for me, in my rooms, as soon as the driver of thecar shows up. I want to find out where he went. "

Shirley hurried up in the lift to his own floor. He went to the door ofhis room, and tried to open it with his key. It was bolted from inside!There came a muffled report from within. Then he heard a cry, whichhe recognized as the voice of Chen, the Jap. He dropped to the floor, listening at the crack--a scuffle was in progress within!

CHAPTER XXI. A BURGLARY FOR JUSTICE

Shirley rose, and once more applied that gridiron-trained boot of his:this time to the lock of the door. Two doses resulted in a complete curefor its obstinacy. As he rushed into the room, he saw a figure swing outof the window on a dangling rope. He hesitated--the desire to chasethis intruder to the roof of the club struggled with his duty to theunfortunate Jap, who lay on the floor, where he was being garroted by aburly ruffian in a chauffeur's habiliments. He sprang toward his littleassistant, and made quick work of the big man. 

As he threw the other, with one of his "silencer" twists of the neckcords, the Jap sprang up. A demoniac anger twisted that usually smilingcountenance, and it took all of Shirley's strength, to wrest away theautomatic revolver from the maddened valet, to prevent swift revenge. 

"Why, Chen. He's caught. Don't shoot him now!"

Chen, with a voluble stream of Nagasaki profanity, spluttered in rage, and strove like a bantam rooster to get at his antagonist. The necessityfor quieting him to prevent bloodshed was fatal to the pursuit of theother man, as Shirley realized bitterly. The servants were running tothe room by this time. The club steward opened the battered door, andShirley turned to explain. 

"You have a brave little man, here, Cushman. Chen heard this burglarin my room, and tried to capture him at the risk of his own life. Hedeserves promotion and a raise in salary. Go downstairs and call thepolice. We'll have this fellow locked up!"

The man glared at Shirley, and rubbed his throat which throbbed from thevice-like grip of the jiu-jitsu. Chen still breathed hard and his almondeyes rolled nervously. At last he was quiet again, although the slenderfingers twitched hungrily for a clawing of that dirty neck. Shirleypatted him on the back. Judgment had come to another of the gangsters, and the criminologist was pleased at the diminution in the ranks of hisopponent. 

An examination of his cabinet and dresser drawers showed that thepillaging had barely begun when Chen popped out of his hiding-place. It was no wonder that Warren had been so solicitous as to the speedingtime: intuition had once more intervened to interrupt these well-laidschemes. 

The little Jap could tell barely more of his adventure than that he hadopened the door when he heard men walking and talking in the room. Thenthe struggle had ensued, with the result already described. 

Now, indeed, was Shirley more puzzled than ever at Warren's suddendeparture. It had upset the plans of the conspirators: it was anunwelcome surprise to their Chief. And furthermore it had interferedwith a little scheme of the criminologist by which he had expected tocraftily imprison his guest for the remainder of the night. 

The room was put in order--not much was there to rearrange, for thetussle had come so promptly. With a final look at his belongings, Shirley left Chen in charge, not forgetting to slip to him anotherreward for his courage. 

Then he went downstairs and hurried over to the Hotel California to holda conference of war with Helene Marigold. 

She was nervous, as she greeted him. Yet a subtle smile on her faceshowed that she was not surprised by the visit. Shirley quickly outlinedthe occurrences of the dinner hour. When he asked her opinion, for hehad learned to place a growing trust in her quick grasp of things, shewalked silently to her typewriter. 

"Here, sir, is a little note which may amuse you. "

She handed him a piece of paper. It read:

"Chief: The Monk has turned up at the Blue Goose on Water Street. He isdrunk and telling all he knows. Come down at once to help us quiet him. Hurry or every thing will be known. You know who. "

Shirley looked at the message, and then with tilted eyebrows at his faircompanion. 

"What do you know about the Blue Goose?" he asked. "And the Monk? For Ipresume that you wrote this out?"

"Your presumption is correct. I remembered hearing Warren ask Taylorthis afternoon after that telephone call from you, where the Blue Goosesaloon could be. Taylor told him it was a sailor's dive on Water Street. The night they thought me dreaming on his library couch, I heard Taylorask Warren if they had heard from the Monk. So, it seemed to me thatthe two questions might interest Mr. Reginald Warren if presented in alanguage that he understood. "

"And what was that language?"

"It was a code message, which I typed out on this Remwood machine here, by the system you told me. It was slow work, but I finished it and sentit over to the club, knowing Warren would be with you. I really don'tknow what good the message would do. But being an illogical woman, anda descendant of Pandora, I thought it would be amusing to open thePandora's box and let all the little devils loose, just to see theglitter of their wings!"

Shirley caught her hands delightedly. 

"You bully girl! Nothing could have happened better. I'll improve mytime now, by visiting Mr. Warren's apartment, impolite as it is withoutan invitation. And then I think I will go calling in that little cave ofthe winds in the rear of his art collection, on the other street. "

"But, Monty--I Mean, Mr. Shirley, " and a rosy embarrassment overcameher, "you will put your head into the lion's mouth once too often. Whynot wait until you get him under lock and key?"

"My dear girl, we will telephone my club and talk to the door man. Ithink that he may be under lock and key by this time, in a manner youlittle suspect. Let me have the number. "

He went to the instrument on her dressing-table. The club was soonreached, and Dan the door man was answering his eager question. 

"Yes, sir, the taxi has come back, sir. "

"Send the chauffeur to the wire. I want to talk to him, " said Shirley. The man was soon speaking. "What address did you take that gentleman to, my man?"

"Why, sir, I started out for the Battery, but sir, a terrible thinghappened. "

"What was it?"

"The gentleman was overcome with an ep'leptic stroke or somethin' likethat. He pounded on the winder behind me, and when I stopped me car, andlooked in he was down an' out. I was on Thirty-third Street and Fift'Avenue at the time, so I calls a cop, and he orders me to run 'im overto Bellevue. He's there now, sir. He ain't hardly breathin', sir. It'sterrible!"

"Too bad, I must go and call, to see if I can help him!" was Shirley'sremark as he hung up the receiver. He repeated the news to Helene. Hereyes sparkled, as she said: "Ah, those symptoms resemble the ones youtold me which came from that amo-amas-amat-citron, or whatever it was. "

"Not quite such a loving lemon, Miss Marigold, " he chuckled. "Amylnitrite. The same soothing syrup which quieted our would-be robbers onSixth Avenue, that night when we left his apartment. It will wear offin about three hours. I had a little glass container folded in my ownhandkerchief, which I put in his overcoat pocket as a parting souvenir, crushing it as I did so. I reasoned that undue anxiety which hedisplayed might cause him to mop his brow, close to that student-duelscar. One smell of the chemical on that handkerchief, in the quantitywhich I gave, was enough to quiet his worries. Now for the SomersetApartment. "

He looked at his watch. 

"It is eight fifteen. I want you to telephone up to Warren's apartmentexactly at ten o'clock. Tell them--there should be a them, that I havebeen overcome in your apartment, and that they are the only people whocan help you, or who know you. I believe that the idea of finding meunconscious, and getting me away will bring any and all of his friendswho may be there. If Taylor is there with others, he will hardly leavethem in the place when he goes. What I want is to be sure that the coastis cleared of people at that hour. Then I will make an investigationinto his papers and other matters of interest. Can I count on you?"

A reproachful pouting of the scarlet lips was the only answer. Shirleyleft, this time hurrying uptown to a certain engine-house, whose firecaptain he had known quite well in the old reportorial days. 

It was beginning to snow once more. And as Shirley slipped out of theengine-house, carrying a scaling ladder which he had borrowed after muchpersuasion from his good-natured friend, he thanked his luck for thisnatural veiling of the night, to baffle eyes too curious about thecampaign he had planned. He knew the posts of the policemen on thisstreet, and sedulously avoided them. 

The Warren apartment faced the Eastern side of the structure, and whenhe reached the front of the Somerset, he sought for a way in whichto use his implement. A scaling ladder, it may be explained to theuninitiated, is about eight feet long--a single fire-proof bar, on whichare short cross-pieces. At one end is a curiously curving serrated hook, which is used for grappling on the sills of windows or ledges above. It is the most useful weapon for the city fire-fighter, enabling him toclimb diagonally across the face of a threatened structure, or evento swing horizontally from one window to a far one, where ladders andhose-streams might not reach. 

A hundred feet to the West of the Somerset he found the excavations fora new apartment house. No watchman was in sight, in the mist of fallingflakes, so the criminologist disappeared over the fence which separatedthe plot of ground from the sidewalk. Advancing with many a stumblethrough the blasted rock and shale, he obtained ingress to an alleywayin the rear. Following this brought him to the back of the Somerset. Shirley had an obstinate grandfather, and heredity was strong upon him. It seemed a foolhardy attempt to scale the big structure, but he raisedthe ladder to the window-sill of the second story, climbing cautiouslyup to that ledge. 

On the second sill he rested, then stretched his scaler diagonallyforward to the left. As he put his feet upon this, he swung like apendulum across the space. It was a severe grueling of nerves, but hisjudgment of placement was good. When the ladder stopped swinging heclambered up another story, as he had learned to do on truant afternoonswasted at the firemen's training school, during the privileged days ofjournalistic work. 

Floor after floor he ascended, until he reached the eighth, on which wasShirley's great goal. Here he exerted the utmost prudence, refrainingfrom the natural impulse to look down at the great crevasse beneathhim. His footing was slippery, but the thickening snowfall was a boonin white disguise, for it protected him from almost certain observationfrom the street below. Slowly he raised his eyes to a level with theilluminated window, and peered in. 

A strange sight greeted him. 

Shine Taylor was busily engaged in the 'twisting of coils of wire, aboutshiny brass cylinders, with an array of small and large clocks, electricbatteries and mysterious bottles on the carved library table. He wasintent upon the manufacture of another of his diabolical engines ofdeath!

Even as he watched, the door opened and who should stagger into the roombut Reginald Warren!

"Great Scott, Reg! What hit you?" was Taylor's ejaculation, as theother stumbled forward, with a hand to his purple face, to sink into aneasy-chair, groaning. The man outside the window could not distinguishthe words, but the current of thought was well expressed in pantomime. 

"I've been drugged!" moaned Warren. "That devil put something on myhandkerchief which knocked me out. I came to in Bellevue and I had atime getting away to come back here. What about the Monk? Did you seehim?"

Taylor had run to his side. It seemed as though Warren's eyes would popfrom his head. The veins were swollen on his pallid brow, and he gaspedfor air. 

"Open the window!" he murmured, and his confederate rushed to the veryportal through which the criminologist was watching this unusualscene, with bated breath. His heart sank, as he lowered himself witha suddenness which vibrated the loosely-attached scaler. For the firsttime his eyes turned toward the terrifying distance from which he hadascended. 

There was a squeak and he heard the window slide in its frame. Hefelt that all was over. It would be impossible for Shine Taylor not toobserve the hooked prong of the ladder, with its curving metal a fewinches from his hands. In this ghastly minute of suspense, Shiley'sthoughts, strangely enough turned back to one thing. He did notdash through the gamut of his life experiences nor regret all pastpeccadilloes, as novelists inform us is generally the ultimate thoughtin the supreme moment before a dash into eternity! He felt only amaddening, itchingly bewitching desire to reach up to his coat pocketand draw out that scent-laden page of typed note-paper which had beenglorified by its caress of the warm, bare bosom of the wonderful womanwho had so mysteriously drifted into the current of his life. 

Then he heard a voice through the open window so close to his ears: itwas Shine Taylor's nasal whine. 

"It's snowing, Reg. The air will do you good. What a gorgeous night fora murder. Tell me now, what was the trouble?"

And Shirley swung, and swung and swung!

CHAPTER XXII. IN THE DOUBLE TRAP

Eternity had passed, the Judgment Day had been overlooked and new aeonshad gone their way, it seemed to the criminologist, when the voice wasaudible again. 

"Oh, all right. I just drew it down from the top. Tell me about yourdoping. Who was the devil?"

He had been unobserved. By the grace of the fates, Warren's suddenappearance had given him a better chance to hear their secrets, andTaylor's own abstraction had dissipated any interest in the world beyondthe window. Again he lifted himself to the level of the sill, sure thatthe creamy curtains upon which the light from the big electrolierwas beaming, would shield him from their view. Warren called for somebrandy. Taylor served him, but it was three minutes or more before theother could collect himself. Then he began furiously, as the pain in hisforehead diminished. 

"This Shirley: he's a clever dog. He put something on my handkerchief, and when I got that message of yours it got me, right in the taxicab, asI was on my way to the Blue Goose to meet you. "

"To meet me?" and Taylor's turn came to be startled. "I don't know whyyou should meet me at the Blue Goose!"

"Say, didn't you send me this note in code?" demanded Warren, drawingout the typewritten sheet. Taylor shook his head, with a blanched face. 

The other looked at him with the first evidence of fear which Shirleyhad ever seen on the confident face. Warren caught his assistant's hand, and drew his face down toward the note. 

"Look, it is in our code. Phil can read it but he is the only one besideyou. He is locked up in jail, and couldn't reach a typewriter. I got amessage from him this afternoon that he wouldn't squeal. You know how hesmuggled it out to me. Tell me how could any one know about the Monk andwrite this so?"

Taylor shook his head, speechless. As he turned his face toward thewindow Shirley observed the great drawn shadows under his squintingeyes. The sudden shock was telling on that weasel face. Taylor walkedunsteadily toward the infernal machine, and he looked blankly towardWarren again. The other's blazing orbs were full upon him now. There wasa frightful menace in their glittering depths as he spoke. 

"Taylor, if I thought you had sold out I'd skin you alive right now!"

"Reg--Reg--you are my best friend. Don't say a thing like that. "

"Are you selling me for some purpose. Are you soft on that chicken? Hasshe blarneyed you into this?" demanded his chief, rising, unsteadily, but fierce in his suspicious tensity. 

Taylor cowered, with imploring hands stretched out. 

"Why, Reg, no one ever did for me what you've done. I'd die rather thansell you out, and there ain't a dame in the world that could make mesoft on a real game like this. "

As Warren studied his white face there came a tinkle on the telephone. 

"What's that? Who's that?" Warren turned and ran toward the instrument, still studying the face of his companion. It was evident that a seed ofdistrust was planted in his bosom. He answered nervously. 

"Yes, yes! What do you want? Who's speaking?"

Then he listened, and a wise expression came over his face. It brokeinto a smile for the first time since he entered the room. He winked atTaylor who drew near him. Shirley strained his ears to catch the words. 

"Yes, yes, why, my dear Miss Bonbon. Surely, I'll be glad to comedown--To help take care of Mr. Shirley--Of course, I will come in mymachine and bring him uptown to a hospital--That's what you want?--Yes, indeed, nothing would give me greater pleasure. "

He rang off, and turned toward Taylor. 

"That smooth devil has sniffed some of his own dope as sure as you live, Shine. We'll get him. Call up and have the machine sent around. You andI will be a committee of two, and we'll end this tonight. Bring what youneed. "

Warren drank another full glass of brandy, while Taylor gave a quickorder over the telephone. Then the latter snatched up a small blacksatchel which was standing on a side table. The assistant came to thewindow, and Shirley dropped down out of sight, for another moment ofsuspense. But the sash was quickly closed and bolted. 

The light was turned out, and he waited another five minutes, stiffeningin the cold wind which had sprung up to send the big flakes in eddiesagainst his numbed fingers. With difficulty he fished out a long, thinwire from his pocket, with which he had frequently turned the safetycatch of windows on other such occasions. Again it served its purpose, and he drew himself up to the sash of the opened window. He brushed offthe snow, so as to leave no telltale puddles of drippings. He went tothe door of the library, and then to that of the vestibule. 

It was locked from the outside, even as they had done when Helene wasthe drowsy prisoner. 

He had little time, he knew, for his search, but he first thought ofthe girl's predicament. He must cover the tracks there. He took up thereceiver, and in a minute was talking to her. 

"I'm in. Leave word downstairs (and pay the clerk and bell-boy a goodbribe) that you have gone to a hospital with a sick friend. Tell themto swear to that, and better still leave the hotel at once, hunt upDick Holloway--you'll find him at the Thespis Club to-night. Send in thechauffeur to ask for him and have him stay with you in the machine. I amgoing to visit the other place when I finish here. I'll be down there, at the Thespis Club, by eleven again. Good-bye--use your wits. "

Then he began a hurried ransacking of the apartment. He picked up anote-book here, sheets of memoranda there, letters and documents whichhe thought would be convenient. Warren's bedrooms were locked, but asmall "jimmie" sufficed to force them open. He found in one drawer adozen or more bank books, with as many different financial houses, andunder many names. This he shoved into his pockets. At last, satisfiedthat he could gain no more, he retreated to the window. He shut thisand was once more on the windowsill. Here he looked down, and a newinspiration came to him. He would have difficulty in getting admissionto the apartment entrance, at this time of night. The attendant wouldremember him and warn Warren upon the latter's return. It was but onemore climb, a single story, to the roof. So, up he went, deserting thefaithful scaling ladder on the roof, for the time being. 

He sought around for several minutes on the snowy, slippery surfacebefore he found the entrance to the iron stairway close by the elevatorshaft. Then he went softly down. 

Past Warren's apartment, on his way without a noise, his boots off, hecontinued until he reached the second floor. Here he was baffled again. Why had he not taken some impression of the pass-key of the negroattendant when let in before? Yet now he remembered that the man hadnever relinquished his hold upon that open sesame. He remembered the"jimmy"--yet this would betray him, by the broken lock!

There was the servant's entrance, however, in the rear of the hallway. To this he slipped, even as the elevator passed up bearing Warren andShine Taylor, muttering angrily. Shirley found the rear door to therooms, and there he worked quickly, forcing the lock. He was sooninside, and hid himself in the pantry of the darkened apartment. He hadnot long to wait. 

There was a clicking noise which reverberated through the empty room, as the other two entered by the front portal. He heard them talking inwhispers, then the creaking of a window, and all was silent again. 

Shirley went to the same small window through which he had descendedbefore. With his boots tied together by their laces, and suspended fromhis neck, on either side, he went down the rope noiselessly. He foundthe iron door partially opened, as he reached the end of the corridor. Ablock of wood held it back from the jamb. 

"He is prepared for a quick retreat. So shall I be, " thought Shirley, as he noiselessly crept into the chamber, after having drawn away thewooden block. He let the door come gently to its frame, stopping itwithin an inch of its lock. As he turned slightly forward he caught twocurious silhouettes: Warren at his table, with Shine at his side, theiroutlines clear and black against the brightness of the headlights. On, the other side of the transparent screen stood a man, with oneeye blackened, his face badly bruised and wicked in its batteredcondensation of evil determination with rage and fright, so oddly mixed. 

"It ain't my fault, Chief! There are only six of the boys left. I triedme best but this little Chinyman he soaks me one on the lamp, with agun butt. Me pal was nabbed in the room when I sneaks out on the rope. Ifinds out afterward that Jimmie's watch must-a been about twenty minutesslow. That's how we misses. "

"But you didn't get him, and I'm going to break you for this!"

"But gov'nor, listen--we leaves the machine all right. That'll git 'imanyway. What'll I do?"

"I have the addresses of the other men here in my pocket. You tell themto stick right in their rooms for the next twenty-four hours. If theydon't hear anything from me, tell them to go to Frisco by roundaboutways and I'll forward their money, care of Kelso. Now get out. "

The man disappeared and there was a double click as the door to thefront compartment closed. Warren turned toward Taylor, While Shirleyflattened himself against the rear wall, and crouched down slowly, without a betraying sound. 

"I don't understand that girl not being there. Some one's closing in onus. I'm going to break that girl's spirit before I'm through. She'll beon the yacht tonight, for everything's ready now. What sort of a machinedid you arrange for his room?"

"The old telephone one we worked in Oakland. It is under his bed. I toldthe men to do that first before they went through his things. Then itwould look like plain robbery, and when he goes to take the receiveroff the hook it's 'good-night, nursey!' That little popper will blow theroof off that club house!"

Shirley's blood might have run cold at the calm pride of this degeneratefiend, had it not been boiling at the reference to Helene. He creptnearer to them, along the wall. He lay down on the floor, below thelevel of the first bullet paths. Then he drew his automatic and the bulblight, ready for his surprise. 

"I'll call up Kick Brown at the telephone company. He's on duty untiltwelve. That's an hour yet. "

He placed the plug in position but there came no answer over his privatewire. Warren cursed: this time in a dialect unknown to Shirley. The manwas asserting his most primitive nature now. 

"What does that mean? He knows that it's important to-night. I wonder ifsome one has squealed. You know what I said upstairs, Shine?" Warren'svoice was ominous. "I don't like the looks of things. And you're theonly one who has ever known the inside working of my system. I've eventold you the key to my code--Phil knows it in part, but there is nothingI've kept from you. "

Here Shirley's dramatic instinct asserted itself. In a sepulchral voice, he spoke: "One key to the right, in writing. One to the left to read. Hands up, Warren, you're wanted in Paris, and we have the goods on you!"

Placing the bulb light far to his left, he twisted the little catchwhich kept it glowing permanently. The light fell full on the face ofWarren and Taylor as they sprang up back to back!

"Drop that revolver. It's all up now. You go to the chair for thesemurders. "

Warren shot for the body he supposed to be above the little light. As hedid so Shirley sent a bullet into the arch criminal's right wrist. The weapon dropped from his hand to the table. Shine Taylor, terror-stricken, staggered against his companion, groping for support. Warren misunderstood it: he thought his assistant was trying to holdhim. The swift interpretation gave new fuel to the flame of mistrustwhich had sprung up in his heart. He knew not how many men wereabout him--he merely realized that his crafty plans had been set atnaught, --there could be only this one explanation. He struck at Taylor, who moaned in pain. 

"You cur, you've squealed on me!" With his uninjured left hand he caughtthe other in his Oriental death grip, with all his consummate skill. Astonished at the sudden move, Shirley rose to his feet. But hehesitated too long. 

With a faint gurgle, Shine Taylor, pickpocket, mechanical artist andcriminal genius sank to the mouldy ground of the cellar--lifeless!

Shirley snatched up the light, instinctively throwing its rays upon theface of the dead man. It was horrible to see this ghastly ending of themiserable life, so suddenly conceived and grewsomely executed! Here wasWarren's opportunity. He caught up his weapon from the table with theleft hand, and sent a shot at the intruder, leaping at the same timetoward the rear entrance. Monty swung the light about, but the otherthrew on an electric switch. He stood by the iron portal a fiendishsmirk on his distorted features. 

"So, my luck is good after all: I've got you where I most want you!" Hisweapon covered Shirley's. "I shoot as well with my left hand as withmy right. But, no, I won't shoot you. I'll put you away without atrace left. That is always the clever way. I told you that the averagecriminal was too careless about little things. Good-bye, Mr. MontagueShirley, I wish you a pleasant journey!"

His hand, bleeding from the bullet wound, was pushing the iron door, behind him as he faced Shirley. Suddenly a frightful sound broke thestillness: it was the final exhalation of air from the dead man's lungs. It sent a creeping chill through Shirley's blood. Warren's right handdropped, nervously for an instant, despite his resolution. In thatsecond Shirley had brought his own weapon up to a level with the other'seyes. 

The door closed with a clang!

Warren's face lost its sneering smile. He was locked in from the rear!

"Now, let's see you get out the front way, " retorted the criminologist. He had one hand behind him. He felt a metal contrivance, With threebuttons on it. He thought perhaps it were the controlling switch forthe lights. He would take his chances in the dark. He pressed all threequickly. 

There was a clang from the front, as some mechanism whirred for aninstant. A gong sounded above, and scurrying feet could be heard--thenwere audible no more. It was the warning alarm for the gangsters: theyhad fled. 

Suddenly to Shirley's straining ears came the tick-ticking of an alarmclock, from the corner of the room to his right. He dare not look at it. Warren's eyes grew black with the Great Fear!

"You fool, you've locked all the entrances, and sent the men away. Thatclock will ring in exactly five minutes. When it does, this place willgo up from a load of lyddite. You've dug your own grave!"

Warren's voice was hoarse, and his bright eyes radiated venomously, ashe kept his weapon pointed, like Shirley's, at the face opposite. Theywere both prisoners in the death cellar, with the advantage in favor ofneither!

And the ticking clock, with its maddening, mechanical death chantseemed to Shirley to cry, with each beat, like the reminiscence of somenightmare barbershop: "Next! Next! Next!"

CHAPTER XXIII. CAPTURED AND THEN

Warren's white lips were moving in perfect synchronism, as he countedthe seconds and ticks of the clock. Shirley, never so acute, cudgeledhis mind for some devise by which he might overcame the other. It washopeless. At last, just as he knew the inevitable second was almostcompleted, a faint rustling came from the other side of the iron door. Warren's face brightened with hope. With a nerve-racking rasp, the ironbar on the other side was raised: it was a torturing delay as the twowaited!

The door slowly opened. After a harrowing pause a revolver muzzle slidgently through the crack, and a woman's voice murmured softly: "Drop thegun!"

It was Helene Marigold!

Warren's ashen face changed to purple hue, his hand trembled justenough to incite Shirley to a desperate chance. As the criminal drew thetrigger with a spasmodic jerk, Shirley was dropping to the floor, whencehe pushed himself forward with a froglike leap, as he straightened outthe great muscles. 

Together they rolled in a frenzied struggle. 

"Run back, Helene. The clock will explode!" cried Shirley, desperately. Instead, she sprang into the bright room, espied the diabolicalarrangement in the corner, and ran to pick it up. She saw the wire, andher deft fingers reached behind the clock to turn back its hands. Hadshe torn the wire, as a man would have done, the dreaded explosion wouldhave ended it all. 

"We're coming!"

It was the voice of Pat Cleary from the passageway. He rushed throughthe subterranean passage, followed by several men, with Dick Hollowayexcitedly in their train. After a titanic struggle, with the man baffledin this maddening moment of ruined triumph, they handcuffed him. 

Shirley led Helene into the front compartment before she could observethe horror stamped upon the face of the murdered rogue. 

The girl turned her glorious eyes to his, reached forth her hands, andthen the eternal feminine conquered as she trembled unsteadily and sankinto his arms. 

"Break down the doors, Cleary. Out here, to the street. Pull off thehands of that clock--it's a lyddite bomb!" cried Shirley, excitedly. 

One of the men used the table with clattering effect. The iron door ofthe front room gave way, and Shirley carried Helene up the ladder, tothe main floor of the old garage. She seemed a sleeping lily--so pale, so fragile, so fragrant in her colorless beauty. He had never seen herso before! For an instant a great terror pierced him: she seemed not tobreathe. But as he placed his face close to her mouth, her eyes openedfor one divine look, then drooped again. A white hand and arm curled, with childish confidence, about his shoulder. He bore her thus to thebig car from the Agency, which stood outside. 

"Quick, down to the Hotel California, " he called to the chauffeur, "PatCleary can handle matters there. "

As they sped toward her apartment the roses took their wonted placein her cheeks. She sat up to smile in his face. Then she loweredher glance, with carmine mounting hotly to her brow. Helene said noword--nor did Shirley. She simply leaned toward him, to bury her faceupon the broad shoulder, as neither heeded the possible curiosity of thedriver on the seat in front. 

At least, they understood completely. There was nothing else to say!

 * * *

As Shirley left her at the door of the apartment, he turned into theelevator, his mind whirling with the strange imprisonment into which hehad let his unwilling heart drift. The clerk stopped him at the lowerfloor. 

"There's a call for you, sir. It's rush, the gentleman said!"

"Great Scott! What now?" he ran to the instrument, and he heard CaptainCronin's excited voice. 

"Shirley. The man's escaped again! They just came into the place. Hethrew some sort of bottle at the front of the patrol wagon which blew itall to pieces. He got away in the mix-up--three policemen were injured!"

"I'll get him, Captain, if it's the last act of my life. "

To the surprise of the blase clerk, the well-known club man ran out ofthe hotel, dropping his hat in his excitement. He shouted to the driverwho still waited in the agency machine. 

"The sky's the limit, now, son. Race for Twenty-first Street and theEast River. Let me off at the end of the dock. Then go back to get somemen from the agency, as I'll have a prisoner, then, or they'll get mybody!"

The machine raced down the street, regardless of the warnings ofpolicemen. Shirley was confident that his was not the only car on sucha mission. He reached the dock of Manby, where was waiting the expertengineer of the hydroplane. He had not planned in vain. 

"Have you seen an auto go past here before mine?"

"Yes, sir, I was smoking me pipe, and settin' on the rail of the dock, when one shoots up toward the Twenty-third Street Ferry, with a cop on amotor-cycle chasin' it behind. "

"Then, quick, into the boat. "

They clambered down the wet ladder, and after an aggravating delay, thewhirring engines of the racing craft were started. Shirley took off hiscoat, and lashed a long rope about his waist. He tied the other end ofit securely to a thwart in the boat. 

"What's your idee, Cap?" asked the engineer, as he waited the signal. 

"There's a man trying to catch that white yacht out in the river. I wantto get him, that's all. If I fall out of this boat, keep right on going, for I'm tied up now. Where's the boat hook?"

"Here, sir. Are you ready? Just give me your directions. All right, sir, we're off. "

Shirley grunted and the hydroplane sped out onto the river, in a bigcurve, as he directed. Like a white ghost on the river was the trimyacht, which even now could be seen speeding down the stream, all steamup. There were two toots on the whistle and Shirley feared that his manhad boarded her. But the hydroplane, ploughing through the cold waves, whizzed toward the yacht, as he climbed out to the small flat stern. Asmall boat had swung close to the yacht now. A ladder had been loweredfrom a spar, while a man standing in the little craft missed it. Theyacht was gliding past the boat, when another rope ladder was deftlyswung over the stern. 

The hydroplane was close up now, and Shirley saw his prey dangling atthe end of the ladder, now in the water, struggling with the rungs ofthe ladder, and now being drawn up. 

His engineer, with a skilful hand on the helm, swung in close to theyacht, as keen for the capture as his patron. They whizzed past atalmost railroad speed, and Shirley, sprang toward the ladder. His armsclosed about the body of Reginald Warren in a grip which he braced by acurious finger-lock he had learned in wrestling practice. 

Two revolvers barked over the taffrail of the yacht, as the hydroplaneraced onward, dragging Shirley and his prisoner at the end of the rope, through the water. Again the shots rang out, but they were out of range, on the dark waters so quickly, that before the police boat had setout from shore to investigate the firing from the pleasure vessel, thecriminologist's struggle with his wounded antagonist was over. 

Half drowned, himself, with Warren completely past consciousness, Shirley was pulled into his own boat as the engines were slowed down. They returned rapidly to the dock. 

"Help me work him--that was a pretty rough yank. He's been shot in thehand already. "

They rolled Warren on a barrel, "pumped" his arms, and by the time theCronin automobile had returned with the other detectives, Warren wasrestored to understanding again. Shirley forced some liquor between histeeth, to be greeted with a torrent of strange oaths. 

"The jig is up, Warren, " said the criminologist. "As a chess-playerin the little game, you are a wonder. But, I think I may at last call'Checkmate. '"

"I'm not dead yet, Shirley, " hissed Warren. "I gave you your chance tokeep out of this. But you wouldn't take it. I'll settle the score withyou before I'm finished. There's one man in the world who knows how toget away from bars. I'm that man. "

Then his teeth snapped together with a click. He said nothing more thatnight, even during the operation for probing Shirley's bullet, and thepainful dressing. At the station-house, and his arraignment before themagistrate at Night Court, where he saw some other familiar faces ofhis fellow gangsters--now rounded up on the same charges--he stillmaintained that feline silence. 

And his eyes never left the face of Montague Shirley, as long as thatcalm young man was in sight!

Shirley merely presented his charge of murder--for the strangling ofShine Taylor. The names of the aged millionaires were not brought intothe matter--there was no need. He had done his work well. 

At Cronin's agency, late that night, there came a cablegram from thegreatest detective bureau of France. 

"The Montfleury case" was the most daring robbery and sale of state warsecrets ever perpetrated in Paris. It had been successful, despite thecapture, and conviction of the criminal, Laschlas Rozi, a Hungarianadventurer who had killed three men to carry his point. The scoundrelhad escaped after murdering his prison guard, and wearing his clothesout of the gaol. A reward of 100, 000 francs had been offered for hiscapture, by the Department of Justice. 

"Monty, who gets all the credit for this little deal--that's what'sbothering me?" asked Captain Cronin, as they sipped a toast of rare oldport, in his rear office. 

Shirley lit the ubiquitous cigarette, and tilted back in his chair. 

"Captain: why ask foolish questions? This case ought to buy you five orsix of those big farms you've been planning about--and leave you fiftythousand dollars with which to pay the damages for being a gentlemanfarmer. "

"And you, Monty? You know you never have to present a bill with me. Whatwill you do with your pin money?"

"I'm going down on Fifth Avenue tomorrow and invest it in a solitairering, for a very small finger. "

CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION

Shirley made some investigations in a private reading room of thePublic Library: there was much good treasure there, not salable over thecounter of a grocery store, mayhap, but unusually valuable in the highgrade work which was his specialty. In an old volume enumerating thenoble families of Austro-Hungary he found two distinguished lines, "Laschlas" and "Rozi. "

From the library he went to a cable office where he sent a message tothe chief of police of Budapesth inquiring about the remaining membersof the families. The old volume in the library was thirty-four yearsbehind the times: it was the only record obtainable in America. 

After a couple of hours, which he devote to some personal matters, hereceived a response to his inquiry. When translated from the Hungarianit read thus:

"Professor Montague Shirley, College Club, N. Y. , U. S. A. 

Families extinct except Countess Laschlas, and son Count Rozi Laschlas, reported killed in Albanian revolution. 

 Csherkini, Minister of Justice. "

The criminologist was happy. Here was a weapon which he had not yetused. Now he turned his steps towards the Tombs, for an interview withthe prisoner. 

After some parley with the warden, he was admitted for a visit toReginald Warren. That gentleman's fury was rekindled at the sight ofthe club man who had been so instrumental in his downfall. But a cunningsmile played over the features of the criminal. 

"So, you have come to gloat over your work, Shirley? Well, it is a gametwo can play. "

"Yes? I am always interested in sport. I came to see if there wasanything I could do for you in your confinement, " was the unruffledreply. 

"You will be busy with your own affairs, " retorted Warren. "I have beenbusy writing my confession. Here is the manuscript. I will baffle allyour efforts to hush up the affairs of the 'Lobster Club. ' Furthermore, my confession, " (and he exultantly waved a mass of manuscript at hisvisitor, ) "will send young Van Cleft to prison for perjury on thecertificate of his father's death. Captain Cronin, that prince ofblockheads, will share the same fate. Professor MacDonald, who I knowvery well signed the death certificates, will be disgraced and drivenfrom professional standing. You will be implicated in this plot tothwart justice. With the German university thoroughness to which you sosarcastically referred, I have written down the facts as carefully asthough I were preparing a thesis for a doctor's degree!"

He laughed maliciously, studying the effect of his words. He wasdisappointed. Shirley's bland manner changed not a whit. Instead thecriminologist offered him a cigarette. 

"You might as well smoke now--as later!" and there was a wealth ofinnuendo in the emphasis. "Is that all you are going to do, to squareyour accounts?"

"By no means! As my trump card, I have implicated Miss Helene Marigoldin the various exploits which have been so successful now. She isunknown in New York--I investigated that matter. She will have a finetask in proving an alibi, after the careful preparation I have made. Infact, I accuse her of being the mistress of my dead con'federate--"

Shirley sprang to his feet, and the rage which was shown in his strongfeatures brought a leer to the face of the other. 

"Strike me, " continued the tormentor. "All I have to do is to call theguard. I have been busy thinking since they locked me up here. There isnothing more to do to me than the electric chair--but, I am not finishedyet. "

The criminologist controlled himself with difficulty. He realized thatan altercation with the prisoner would shatter his whole case, like ahouse of cards blown down by a vagrant breeze. He sat down again, themask of calm indifference playing over his features. 

"And what then?"

"Is not that sufficient to interest you? It will be another month beforemy trial, and my literary work has just begun. The newspapers are filledwith war news, which have ceased to be a nine days' wonder. I shallprovide them with material which will be the story of the age! Anothermonth, and then?"

The prisoner lit the cigarette which he had accepted, and stretched backin the plain wooden chair to enjoy the misery of his victim. 

"But, a month--let me see? That would enable me to do some correspondingmyself, wouldn't it?" and Shirley took out a memorandum book. "You havedegraded a splendid intellect, a gallant spirit and brought disgraceupon yourself, for this miserable ending. You have ruthlessly murderedothers, caring naught for the misery and wretchedness of those leftbehind. Has it been worth it all, Warren?"

The other's eyes twinkled, as he nodded. 

"A wonderful game. And I haven't completed the score, even now. "

"You are right, Warren. There is one soul more whom you have notaffected. It is too bad that you were not killed in the Albanianrevolution, --then you would have been on record as a hero instead of thevilest scoundrel in Christendom. "

Had the death-dealing current of the electric chair been turned uponWarren he could not have been more startled, as he sprang up. Hispallid face seemed to turn a sickly green, as his dark eyes opened ingalvanized amazement. 

"Albanian--what do you mean? I never saw Albania!"

"You will never see it again. You will never see Budapesth again, either, " was the menacing continuation of the criminologist's methodicalspeech. "But a very old lady, the Countess Laschlas, will see theaccounts of her son's wretched death, in the New York papers which willbe sent to her, in care of the American consul!"

It was merely a deductive guess: but the shot struck the center ofthe bull's-eye. Warren, alias Count Laschlas, staggered back, and hisnervous fingers touched the chilling surface of the stone wall. Hedropped his eyes, and then strove to regain his nonchalance. It was apitiable failure. 

"Just as you have dealt to the children of others, so will you dealwith your own mother, the last of a distinguished line of aristocrats. I swear, by the memory of my own dead parents, that I will avenge themisery you have given to the innocent. The good Book says, the sins ofthe fathers shall be visited upon the children even unto the third andthe fourth generation. But life to-day has taught me that the sins ofthe children are visited upon the fathers and the mothers--especially, the sweet, loving, trusting mothers! As I value my honor, ReginaldWarren, or Count Rozi, I will see to it that your mother shall knowevery detail of the whole miserable career of her son. That is my answerto your alleged confession. If there is a hereafter, from which you mayobserve that which follows your death, you will be able to see througheternity the earthly punishment which has been visited upon the oneperson whom you love and respect. "

The criminal's ashen face was buried in his hands. 

Great sobs emanated from his white lips, as his shoulders heaved in aparoxysm. 

Shirley had struck the Achilles tendon--the hardest wretch in the worldhad one, as he knew!

"Oh--oh--" he moaned, "the poor little mutter. She has forgiven so much, suffered so much. You can't do it. You won't do it!" He fell to hisknees, clawing at the criminologist's garments with his trembling hands, the tears streaming down his face. 

"What about those who have seen no compassion from you?" cried Shirleyin a terrible voice. "Your vanity, your self-worship! Do they notcomfort you now? This is only the suffering of another which youcontemplate! Why all these hysterics?"

Warren, groveling on the floor of the reception-room, was a pictureof abject, horrid soul-torture. At last, through the subtlety of thisunconventional sleuth, along methods which were never dreamed of in theordinary police category, he had been broken on the wheel which he hadhimself so cunningly constructed!

"And if that mother dies, cursing your memory with her last breath, cursing the love of the father, of her husband, of the ancestors, allresponsible for your being in the world today, what will you think, whenyou watch from the other side of that great unseen wall?"

"Oh, Shirley! I can't. See--I'll destroy this stuff. I'll keep silentabout the others. I mean it. Here: I tear it up now and give you thepieces to burn!"

Warren, maddened by his fears, nervously tore the sheets into bits andpressed the remnants into the criminologist's hands. 

"Will you promise to keep my identity a secret?"

"I will not send word to Budapesth. You have a bad record in Paris, and other parts of the world. But, if you play fair on the confidentialnature of this case, saving the innocent from disgrace and shame, I willsee that the story never reaches your mother. There is no need to askthis on your honor--that does not count. "

Warren winced at this final thrust. He turned toward Shirley, eagerly. 

"You don't understand me at that, Shirley. I have had a curious career. Somewhere I inherited a strain of criminality--you know how manyancestors a man has in ten generations. I was a member of a poor butprominent family. The government paid for my education in the bestuniversities of Europe, for I was to hold a position under the Emperor, which had been held in my family for generations. But I was ruined bythe extravagances and the excesses which I learned from the rich youngmen whom I met. I studied feverishly, yet was able to waste much timewith the gilded fools, by my ability to learn more quickly. The resultwas that I could not be contented with the small salary of my governmentoffice. I had to keep up appearances with my companions. So, I driftedinto gambling, into sharp tricks--then became a mercenary soldier, an officer, in the continuous revolutions of the southeastern part ofEurope. I sank deeper and at last, in one serious escapade, I managed tohave myself reported dead, so as to quiet the heartaches of my mother, who believed I was killed on the battlefield. There is the miserablestory--or all I will tell. They caught me in Paris and a girl betrayedpart of my name--fortunately they did not hunt me up, so my motherwas saved that disgrace. Will you keep the secret now, on ourunderstanding?"

"I give you my word for that, Warren. " Shirley rose, putting the torn-uppapers into his pockets. "I am sorry for the past--but you have made thepresent for yourself. Good-bye. "

Warren returned to his cell and the detective to the club house. 

There he found an additional cable message. It said: "Countess Laschlashas been dead ten months. " It was signed like the other. 

Shirley tore up the message, and blinked more than seemed necessary. 

"Poor little old lady, she knows it all now. I will not have to tellher. "

 * * *

That afternoon Shirley called again at the Hotel California for Helene. 

"I want you to go to a sweet, old-fashioned English tea-room, where Imay tell you the rest of the story. There will be no tango music, nocymbals, no tinkling cocktails, nor, champagne. Can you pour real tea?"

"I am an English girl. I have been five days without it. "

As they were ensconced at the quaint little table, he realized howwondrously blended in her was that triad of feminine essential spirits:the eternal mother instinct, the sensuous strength of the wife-love andthe wistful allurement of maiden tenderness. 

"Does my great big boy wish three lumps of sugar, after his hard tasks?"

"He'll die in the flower of immaturity if he has too many sweets in oneday. "

He drew out his memorandum book, opening it to a closely-written page. 

"Before the confections, I must hand in my report to the commandingofficer. "

"Advance three paces to the front, and hand over the details, " and sheadded another lump of sugar, with a mischievous twinkle in the blueeyes. 

"Very well, excellency. We transcribed the addresses of Warren'sgangsters from his note-book, and they have all been arrested. The menwe captured in the earlier skirmishes are all languishing in the tombs, as accomplices in his crime, as well as for their attempts against myown life. You will be astonished, Helene, at the revelations of hisoperations as shown by his bank-books, a translation of that diary andsome of the letters which I took when I burglarized his rooms. I havesent a code letter to Phil, advising him to confess all, and thatman's testimony adds to the corroboration. I went down to the DistrictAttorney with a full statement of the facts, leaving nothing unbared. Like me, he agreed that it were best to let the law take its course, demanding the full penalty, and saving the honor of a dozen familieswho would have been dragged into the case, had not Warren laid himselfliable by the murder of his confederate, Taylor. That young man was anelectrical genius--with his brains misguided by his equally misdirectedemployer. There is no chance of a miscarriage of justice, and Warren hadaccumulated so much money that many of the victims of his organizationcan be reimbursed in full. "

"You have handled all this with a suspicious skill for a lazy societyman, with no experience in such matters. "

Shirley understood the subtle sarcasm of the remark, but he proceededunruffled, to lull her suspicious. 

"I only tried to cover the points which meant happiness and peace ofmind to others. It was merely a matter of common or garden horse sense, as we call it in America. Warren has been systematically robbing therich men of New York for three years, under various subterfuges. Nowonder he could afford such gorgeous collections of art, keeping alooffrom his associates in crime. His treasures, like those in many Europeanmuseums were bought with blood. It is curious how a complex case likethis smooths itself out so simply when the key is obtained. And you, Helene, have been the genius to supply that key: my own work has beenmerely corroborative!"

He looked at the delicate features of the girl, remembering with arecurring thrill the margin by which they had escaped death in thecellar den of the conspirators. 

"Cleary and Dick Holloway told me how cleverly you led the men to theSomerset where you followed my trail through the mole's passage. It wasa frightful risk for you to take: Cleary should have had more sense andled the way himself. "

Helene's lips pursed themselves into a tempting pout. 

"Are you not happier that it was I, at that supreme moment?"

"Indeed I am: success was all the sweeter. There is remaining only onemystery which I must admit is still unsolved in this curious affair. Andthat is you. Who are you?"

She parried with the same question. 

"I know your name, sir, but you profess to be a society butterfly, flitting from pleasure to dissipation, and back again. Tell me thetruth, now, if ever. "

"Why--gracious, Helene--of all the foolish questions!" He was adorablyboyish in his confusion. She laughed gleefully, like a happy schoolgirl. 

"Then, Monty Shirley, my score is better than yours, for I have everymystery cleared. But while I know all about you, what frightful chancesyou are taking with me!"

Shirley reddened, as he burned his finger with the match which had beenraised to the end of his cigarette. He accused her of teasing, and sheglanced happily at the iridiscent solitaire upon the third finger of herleft hand. 

"Dear boy, I realize that I understand about you what you cannot fathomwith me. You are not a moth, but your self-sacrifice, and bravery inthis case are professional: you worked on this case as you have ona hundred others: you are a very original and successful expertin criminology. And I am not more than half bad at observation anddeduction, myself; now, am I, dear?"

Shirley gracefully admitted defeat, with a question: "Who are you, Helene? And who is dear old Jack?"

The roses blossomed in her cheeks as she answered: "Jack is a verysweet boy, ten years older than you in gray hair and the calendar, andinfinitely younger in worldly wisdom and intellect. He is an Englisharmy officer, who was foolish enough to imagine he loved me, foolishenough to propose every three days for the last three years and foolishenough to bore me until in self-defense I escaped from his clutches. Asfor myself, at least I am not the young woman who can stand staying inthat gaudy theatrical hotel for another day longer. I have done so manybold, unmaidenly things that you may believe it easy for me. It is not. 

"I am truly a horrid, old-time, hoopskirt-minded prude. My first act ofdomestic tyranny is to make you find a sedate, prim place for my workand play, where I may know my own blushes when I see them in the mirror, and will have less occasion to deserve them!"

"Your work? What is that?"

"It is very hard work--with a typewriter, but not in code. I will notdivulge my name until we tell it to the marriage license clerk. But DickHolloway knows me, and I came to this country, partly to see him. Ihave written a few plays, which simple as they were, seemed to interestEuropean audiences and critics. Some of my novels have strangely enoughbrought in royalties, despite the publishers! But, I became satiatedwith life in England and on the Continent. I came here because I feltthat I needed life in a younger and newer country. I needed an emotionaland physical awakening. "

"You have not wasted any time in drowsiness since you reached America. "

"No--and all because I went to Holloway's office that fateful morning, before I saw any one else in New York, to ask about a play which he isto produce this spring. I confess that it was my first experience as anactress. Will you forgive my deception?"

Shirley nodded, as he studied the animated face with a new interest. Headmitted to himself that Holloway's prediction had come true--he had methis match. 

"And so, my dear Helene (for such I shall always call you, whether yourreally, truly name be Mehitabel, Samantha or Sophronisa) you camehere, went through all these horrors without a complaint, crushingthe independence of my confirmed bachelorhood for the sake of what wenewspaper men call copy?"

Helene nodded demurely. 

"Yes, but it was such wonderful 'copy, ' Monty boy. "

The criminologist scowled over his cigarette, yet he could not feel asunhappy as he felt this defeat should make him. 

"When will the 'copy' be ready for publication, my dear girl. It wouldbe most interesting, I fancy. "

Helene caught his hand, drawing it toward her throbbing heart. Her wetlips were almost touching his ear, as she confided, whisperingly, with the blue eyes averted: "Only published in editions de luxe: somebindings will be with blue ribbons, some with pink. All of them withflexible backs and gloriously illumined by the Master's brush. Theauthors' autographs will be on every copy to prove the collaboration, and every volume will be a poem in itself. .. . But there, Montague dear, I am a novelist--not a fortune-teller!"

"How can I forecast the exact dates of publication?"