THE CRAIG KENNEDY SERIES

THE WAR TERROR

BY ARTHUR B. REEVE

FRONTISPIECE BY WILL FOSTER

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 INTRODUCTION I. THE WAR TERROR II. THE ELECTRO-MAGNETIC GUN III. THE MURDER SYNDICATE IV. THE AIR PIRATE V. THE ULTRA-VIOLET RAY VI. THE TRIPLE MIRROR VII. THE WIRELESS WIRETAPPERS VIII. THE HOUSEBOAT MYSTERY IX. THE RADIO DETECTIVE X. THE CURIO SHOP XI. THE "PILLAR OF DEATH" XII. THE ARROW POISON XIII. THE RADIUM ROBBER XIV. THE SPINTHARISCOPE XV. THE ASPHYXIATING SAFE XVI. THE DEAD LINE XVII. THE PASTE REPLICA XVIII. THE BURGLAR'S MICROPHONE XIX. THE GERM LETTER XX. THE ARTIFICIAL KIDNEY XXI. THE POISON BRACELET XXII. THE DEVIL WORSHIPERS XXIII. THE PSYCHIC CURSE XXIV. THE SERPENT'S TOOTH XXV. THE "HAPPY DUST" XXVI. THE BINET TEST XXVII. THE LIE DETECTOR XXVIII. THE FAMILY SKELETON XXIX. THE LEAD POISONER XXX. THE ELECTROLYTIC MURDER XXXI. THE EUGENIC BRIDE XXXII. THE GERM PLASM XXXIII. THE SEX CONTROL XXXIV. THE BILLIONAIRE BABY XXXV. THE PSYCHANALYSIS XXXVI. THE ENDS OF JUSTICE

INTRODUCTION

As I look back now on the sensational events of the past monthssince the great European War began, it seems to me as if there hadnever been a period in Craig Kennedy's life more replete withthrilling adventures than this. 

In fact, scarcely had one mysterious event been straightened outfrom the tangled skein, when another, even more baffling, crowdedon its very heels. 

As was to have been expected with us in America, not all of theseremarkable experiences grew either directly or indirectly out ofthe war, but there were several that did, and they proved to beonly the beginning of a succession of events which kept me busychronicling for the Star the exploits of my capable and versatilefriend. 

Altogether, this period of the war was, I am sure, quite the mostexciting of the many series of episodes through which Craig hasbeen called upon to go. Yet he seemed to meet each situation as itarose with a fresh mind, which was amazing even to me who haveknown him so long and so intimately. 

As was naturally to be supposed, also, at such a time, it was notlong before Craig found himself entangled in the marvelous spysystem of the warring European nations. These systems revealedtheir devious and dark ways, ramifying as they did tentacle-likeeven across the ocean in their efforts to gain their ends inneutral America. Not only so, but, as I shall some day endeavor toshow later, when the ban of silence imposed by neutrality israised after the war, many of the horrors of the war were broughthome intimately to us. 

I have, after mature consideration, decided that even at presentnothing but good can come from the publication at least of somepart of the strange series of adventures through which Kennedy andI have just gone, especially those which might, if we had notsucceeded, have caused most important changes in current history. As for the other adventures, no question can be raised about thepropriety of their publication. 

At any rate, it came about that early in August, when the warcloud was just beginning to loom blackest, Kennedy wasunexpectedly called into one of the strangest, most dangeroussituations in which his peculiar and perilous profession had everinvolved him. 

CHAPTER I

THE WAR TERROR

"I must see Professor Kennedy--where is he?--I must see him, forGod's sake!"

I was almost carried off my feet by the inrush of a wild-eyedgirl, seemingly half crazed with excitement, as she cried outCraig's name. 

Startled by my own involuntary exclamation of surprise whichfollowed the vision that shot past me as I opened our door inresponse to a sudden, sharp series of pushes at the buzzer, Kennedy bounded swiftly toward me, and the girl almost flungherself upon him. 

"Why, Miss--er--Miss--my dear young lady--what's the matter?" hestammered, catching her by the arm gently. 

As Kennedy forced our strange visitor into a chair, I observedthat she was all a-tremble. Her teeth fairly chattered. Alternately her nervous, peaceless hands clutched at an imaginarysomething in the air, as if for support, then, finding none, shewould let her wrists fall supine, while she gazed about withquivering lips and wild, restless eyes. Plainly, there wassomething she feared. She was almost over the verge of hysteria. 

She was a striking girl, of medium height and slender form, but itwas her face that fascinated me, with its delicately moldedfeatures, intense unfathomable eyes of dark brown, and lips thatshowed her idealistic, high-strung temperament. 

"Please, " he soothed, "get yourself together, please--try! What isthe matter?"

She looked about, as if she feared that the very walls had eyesand ears. Yet there seemed to be something bursting from her lipsthat she could not restrain. 

"My life, " she cried wildly, "my life is at stake. Oh--help me, help me! Unless I commit a murder to-night, I shall be killedmyself!"

The words sounded so doubly strange from a girl of her evidentrefinement that I watched her narrowly, not sure yet but that wehad a plain case of insanity to deal with. 

"A murder?" repeated Kennedy incredulously. "YOU commit a murder?"

Her eyes rested on him, as if fascinated, but she did not flinchas she replied desperately, "Yes--Baron Kreiger--you know, theGerman diplomat and financier, who is in America raising money andarousing sympathy with his country. "

"Baron Kreiger!" exclaimed Kennedy in surprise, looking at hermore keenly. 

We had not met the Baron, but we had heard much about him, young, handsome, of an old family, trusted already in spite of his youthby many of the more advanced of old world financial and politicalleaders, one who had made a most favorable impression ondemocratic America at a time when such impressions were valuable. 

Glancing from one of us to the other, she seemed suddenly, with agreat effort, to recollect herself, for she reached into herchatelaine and pulled out a card from a case. 

It read simply, "Miss Paula Lowe. "

"Yes, " she replied, more calmly now to Kennedy's repetition of theBaron's name, "you see, I belong to a secret group. " She appearedto hesitate, then suddenly added, "I am an anarchist. "

She watched the effect of her confession and, finding the look onKennedy's face encouraging rather than shocked, went onbreathlessly: "We are fighting war with war--this iron-boundorganization of men and women. We have pledged ourselves toexterminate all kings, emperors and rulers, ministers of war, generals--but first of all the financiers who lend money thatmakes war possible. "

She paused, her eyes gleaming momentarily with something like themilitant enthusiasm that must have enlisted her in the paradoxicalwar against war. 

"We are at least going to make another war impossible!" sheexclaimed, for the moment evidently forgetting herself. 

"And your plan?" prompted Kennedy, in the most matter-of-factmanner, as though he were discussing an ordinary campaign forsocial betterment. "How were you to--reach the Baron?"

"We had a drawing, " she answered with amazing calmness, as if themere telling relieved her pent-up feelings. "Another woman and Iwere chosen. We knew the Baron's weakness for a pretty face. Weplanned to become acquainted with him--lure him on. "

Her voice trailed off, as if, the first burst of confidence over, she felt something that would lock her secret tighter in herbreast. 

A moment later she resumed, now talking rapidly, disconnectedly, giving Kennedy no chance to interrupt or guide the conversation. 

"You don't know, Professor Kennedy, " she began again, "but thereare similar groups to ours in European countries and the plan isto strike terror and consternation everywhere in the world atonce. Why, at our headquarters there have been drawn up plans andagreements with other groups and there are set down the time, place, and manner of all the--the removals. "

Momentarily she seemed to be carried away by something like thefanaticism of the fervor which had at first captured her, evenstill held her as she recited her incredible story. 

"Oh, can't you understand?" she went on, as if to justify herself. "The increase in armies, the frightful implements of slaughter, the total failure of the peace propaganda--they have all defiedcivilization!

"And then, too, the old, red-blooded emotions of battle have allbeen eliminated by the mechanical conditions of modern warfare inwhich men and women are just so many units, automata. Don't yousee? To fight war with its own weapons--that has become the onlylast resort. "

Her eager, flushed face betrayed the enthusiasm which had oncecarried her into the "Group, " as she called it. I wondered whathad brought her now to us. 

"We are no longer making war against man, " she cried. "We aremaking war against picric acid and electric wires!"

I confess that I could not help thinking that there was no doubtthat to a certain type of mind the reasoning might appeal moststrongly. 

"And you would do it in war time, too?" asked Kennedy quickly. 

She was ready with an answer. "King George of Greece was killed atthe head of his troops. Remember Nazim Pasha, too. Such people areeasily reached in time of peace and in time of war, also, bysympathizers on their own side. That's it, you see--we havefollowers of all nationalities. "

She stopped, her burst of enthusiasm spent. A moment later sheleaned forward, her clean-cut profile showing her more earnestthan before. "But, oh, Professor Kennedy, " she added, "it isworking itself out to be more terrible than war itself!"

"Have any of the plans been carried out yet?" asked Craig, Ithought a little superciliously, for there had certainly been nosuch wholesale assassination yet as she had hinted at. 

She seemed to catch her breath. "Yes, " she murmured, then checkedherself as if in fear of saying too much. "That is, I--I thinkso. "

I wondered if she were concealing something, perhaps had alreadyhad a hand in some such enterprise and it had frightened her. 

Kennedy leaned forward, observing the girl's discomfiture. "MissLowe, " he said, catching her eye and holding it almosthypnotically, "why have you come to see me?"

The question, pointblank, seemed to startle her. Evidently she hadthought to tell only as little as necessary, and in her own way. She gave a little nervous laugh, as if to pass it off. ButKennedy's eyes conquered. 

"Oh, can't you understand yet?" she exclaimed, rising passionatelyand throwing out her arms in appeal. "I was carried away with myhatred of war. I hate it yet. But now--the sudden realization ofwhat this compact all means has--well, caused something in me to--to snap. I don't care what oath I have taken. Oh, ProfessorKennedy, you--you must save him!"

I looked up at her quickly. What did she mean? At first she hadcome to be saved herself. "You must save him!" she implored. 

Our door buzzer sounded. 

She gazed about with a hunted look, as if she felt that some onehad even now pursued her and found out. 

"What shall I do?" she whispered. "Where shall I go?"

"Quick--in here. No one will know, " urged Kennedy, opening thedoor to his room. He paused for an instant, hurriedly. "Tell me--have you and this other woman met the Baron yet? How far has itgone?"

The look she gave him was peculiar. I could not fathom what wasgoing on in her mind. But there was no hesitation about heranswer. "Yes, " she replied, "I--we have met him. He is to comeback to New York from Washington to-day--this afternoon--toarrange a private loan of five million dollars with some bankerssecretly. We were to see him to-night--a quiet dinner, after anautomobile ride up the Hudson--"

"Both of you?" interrupted Craig. 

"Yes--that--that other woman and myself, " she repeated, with apeculiar catch in her voice. "To-night was the time fixed in thedrawing for the--"

The word stuck in her throat. Kennedy understood. "Yes, yes, " heencouraged, "but who is the other woman?"

Before she could reply, the buzzer had sounded again and she hadretreated from the door. Quickly Kennedy closed it and opened theoutside door. 

It was our old friend Burke of the Secret Service. 

Without a word of greeting, a hasty glance seemed to assure himthat Kennedy and I were alone. He closed the door himself, and, instead of sitting down, came close to Craig. 

"Kennedy, " he blurted out in a tone of suppressed excitement, "canI trust you to keep a big secret?"

Craig looked at him reproachfully, but said nothing. 

"I beg your pardon--a thousand times, " hastened Burke. "I was soexcited, I wasn't thinking--"

"Once is enough, Burke, " laughed Kennedy, his good nature restoredat Burke's crestfallen appearance. 

"Well, you see, " went on the Secret Service man, "this thing is sovery important that--well, I forgot. "

He sat down and hitched his chair close to us, as he went on in alowered, almost awestruck tone. 

"Kennedy, " he whispered, "I'm on the trail, I think, of somethinggrowing out of these terrible conditions in Europe that will taxthe best in the Secret Service. Think of it, man. There's anorganization, right here in this city, a sort of assassin's club, as it were, aimed at all the powerful men the world over. Why, themost refined and intellectual reformers have joined with the mostred-handed anarchists and--"

"Sh! not so loud, " cautioned Craig. "I think I have one of them inthe next room. Have they done anything yet to the Baron?"

It was Burke's turn now to look from one to the other of us inunfeigned surprise that we should already know something of hissecret. 

"The Baron?" he repeated, lowering his voice. "What Baron?"

It was evident that Burke knew nothing, at least of this new plotwhich Miss Lowe had indicated. Kennedy beckoned him over to thewindow furthest from the door to his own room. 

"What have you discovered?" he asked, forestalling Burke in thequestioning. "What has happened?"

"You haven't heard, then?" replied Burke. 

Kennedy nodded negatively. 

"Fortescue, the American inventor of fortescite, the newexplosive, died very strangely this morning. "

"Yes, " encouraged Kennedy, as Burke came to a full stop to observethe effect of the information. 

"Most incomprehensible, too, " he pursued. "No cause, apparently. But it might have been overlooked, perhaps, except for one thing. It wasn't known generally, but Fortescue had just perfected asuccessful electro-magnetic gun--powderless, smokeless, flashless, noiseless and of tremendous power. To-morrow he was to have signedthe contract to sell it to England. This morning he is found deadand the final plans of the gun are gone!"

Kennedy and Burke were standing mutely looking at each other. 

"Who is in the next room?" whispered Burke hoarsely, recollectingKennedy's caution of silence. 

Kennedy did not reply immediately. He was evidently much excitedby Burke's news of the wonderful electro-magnetic gun. 

"Burke, " he exclaimed suddenly, "let's join forces. I think we areboth on the trail of a world-wide conspiracy--a sort of murdersyndicate to wipe out war!"

Burke's only reply was a low whistle that involuntarily escapedhim as he reached over and grasped Craig's hand, which to himrepresented the sealing of the compact. 

As for me, I could not restrain a mental shudder at the power thattheir first murder had evidently placed in the hands of theanarchists, if they indeed had the electro-magnetic gun whichinventors had been seeking for generations. What might they not dowith it--perhaps even use it themselves and turn the latestinvention against society itself!

Hastily Craig gave a whispered account of our strange visit fromMiss Lowe, while Burke listened, open-mouthed. 

He had scarcely finished when he reached for the telephone andasked for long distance. 

"Is this the German embassy in Washington?" asked Craig a fewmoments later when he got his number. "This is Craig Kennedy, inNew York. The United States Secret Service will vouch for me--mention to them Mr. Burke of their New York office who is herewith me now. I understand that Baron Kreiger is leaving for NewYork to meet some bankers this afternoon. He must not do so. He isin the gravest danger if he--What? He left last night at midnightand is already here?"

Kennedy turned to us blankly. 

The door to his room opened suddenly. 

There stood Miss Lowe, gazing wild-eyed at us. Evidently hersupernervous condition had heightened the keenness of her senses. She had heard what we were saying. I tried to read her face. Itwas not fear that I saw there. It was rage; it was jealousy. 

"The traitress--it is Marie!" she shrieked. 

For a moment, obtusely, I did not understand. 

"She has made a secret appointment with him, " she cried. 

At last I saw the truth. Paula Lowe had fallen in love with theman she had sworn to kill!

CHAPTER II

THE ELECTRO-MAGNETIC GUN

"What shall we do?" demanded Burke, instantly taking in thedangerous situation that the Baron's sudden change of plans hadopened up. 

"Call O'Connor, " I suggested, thinking of the police bureau ofmissing persons, and reaching for the telephone. 

"No, no!" almost shouted Craig, seizing my arm. "The police willinevitably spoil it all. No, we must play a lone hand in this ifwe are to work it out. How was Fortescue discovered, Burke?"

"Sitting in a chair in his laboratory. He must have been there allnight. There wasn't a mark on him, not a sign of violence, yet hisface was terribly drawn as though he were gasping for breath orhis heart had suddenly failed him. So far, I believe, the coronerhas no clue and isn't advertising the case. "

"Take me there, then, " decided Craig quickly. "Walter, I musttrust Miss Lowe to you on the journey. We must all go. That mustbe our starting point, if we are to run this thing down. "

I caught his significant look to me and interpreted it to meanthat he wanted me to watch Miss Lowe especially. I gathered thattaking her was in the nature of a third degree and as a result heexpected to derive some information from her. Her face was paleand drawn as we four piled into a taxicab for a quick run downtownto the laboratory of Fortescue from which Burke had come directlyto us with his story. 

"What do you know of these anarchists?" asked Kennedy of Burke aswe sped along. "Why do you suspect them?"

It was evident that he was discussing the case so that Paula couldoverhear, for a purpose. 

"Why, we received a tip from abroad--I won't say where, " repliedBurke guardedly, taking his cue. "They call themselves the'Group, ' I believe, which is a common enough term amonganarchists. It seems they are composed of terrorists of allnations. "

"The leader?" inquired Kennedy, leading him on. 

"There is one, I believe, a little florid, stout German. I thinkhe is a paranoiac who believes there has fallen on himself adivine mission to end all warfare. Quite likely he is one of thosewho have fled to America to avoid military service. Perhaps, whycertainly, you must know him--Annenberg, an instructor ineconomics now at the University?"

Craig nodded and raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. We hadindeed heard of Annenberg and some of his radical theories whichhad sometimes quite alarmed the conservative faculty. I felt thatthis was getting pretty close home to us now. 

"How about Mrs. Annenberg?" Craig asked, recalling the cleveryoung wife of the middle-aged professor. 

At the mere mention of the name, I felt a sort of start in MissLowe, who was seated next to me in the taxicab. She had quicklyrecovered herself, but not before I saw that Kennedy's plan ofbreaking down the last barrier of her reserve was working. 

"She is one of them, too, " Burke nodded. "I have had my men outshadowing them and their friends. They tell me that the Annenbergshold salons--I suppose you would call them that--attended bynumbers of men and women of high social and intellectual positionwho dabble in radicalism and all sorts of things. " "Who are theother leaders?" asked Craig. "Have you any idea?"

"Some idea, " returned Burke. "There seems to be a Frenchman, atall, wiry man of forty-five or fifty with a black mustache whichonce had a military twist. There are a couple of Englishmen. Thenthere are five or six Americans who seem to be active. One, Ibelieve, is a young woman. "

Kennedy checked him with a covert glance, but did not betray by amovement of a muscle to Miss Lowe that either Burke or himselfsuspected her of being the young woman in question. 

"There are three Russians, " continued Burke, "all of whom haveescaped from Siberia. Then there is at least one Austrian, aSpaniard from the Ferrer school, and Tomasso and Enrico, twoItalians, rather heavily built, swarthy, bearded. They look thepart. Of course there are others. But these in the main, I think, compose what might be called 'the inner circle' of the 'Group. '"

It was indeed an alarming, terrifying revelation, as we began torealize that Miss Lowe had undoubtedly been telling the truth. Notalone was there this American group, evidently, but all overEurope the lines of the conspiracy had apparently spread. It wasnot a casual gathering of ordinary malcontents. It went deeperthan that. It included many who in their disgust at war secretlywere not unwilling to wink at violence to end the curse. I couldnot but reflect on the dangerous ground on which most of them weretreading, shaking the basis of all civilization in order to cutout one modern excrescence. 

The big fact to us, just at present, was that this group had madeAmerica its headquarters, that plans had been studiously maturedand even reduced to writing, if Paula were to be believed. Everything had been carefully staged for a great simultaneous blowor series of blows that would rouse the whole world. 

As I watched I could not escape observing that Miss Lowe followedBurke furtively now, as though he had some uncanny power. 

Fortescue's laboratory was in an old building on a side streetseveral blocks from the main thoroughfares of Manhattan. He hadevidently chosen it, partly because of its very inaccessibility inorder to secure the quiet necessary for his work. 

"If he had any visitors last night, " commented Kennedy when ourcab at last pulled up before the place, "they might have come andgone unnoticed. "

We entered. Nothing had been disturbed in the laboratory by thecoroner and Kennedy was able to gain a complete idea of the caserapidly, almost as well as if we had been called in immediately. 

Fortescue's body, it seemed, had been discovered sprawled out in abig armchair, as Burke had said, by one of his assistants only afew hours before when he had come to the laboratory in the morningto open it. Evidently he had been there undisturbed all night, keeping a gruesome vigil over his looted treasure house. 

As we gleaned the meager facts, it became more evident thatwhoever had perpetrated the crime must have had the diabolicalcunning to do it in some ordinary way that aroused no suspicion onthe part of the victim, for there was no sign of any violenceanywhere. 

As we entered the laboratory, I noted an involuntary shudder onthe part of Paula Lowe, but, as far as I knew, it was no more thanmight have been felt by anyone under the circumstances. 

Fortescue's body had been removed from the chair in which it hadbeen found and lay on a couch at the other end of the room, covered merely by a sheet. Otherwise, everything, even thearmchair, was undisturbed. 

Kennedy pulled back a corner of the sheet, disclosing the face, contorted and of a peculiar, purplish hue from the congested bloodvessels. He bent over and I did so, too. There was an unmistakableodor of tobacco on him. A moment Kennedy studied the face beforeus, then slowly replaced the sheet. 

Miss Lowe had paused just inside the door and seemed resolutelybound not to look at anything. Kennedy meanwhile had begun a mostminute search of the table and floor of the laboratory near thespot where the armchair had been sitting. 

In my effort to glean what I could from her actions andexpressions I did not notice that Craig had dropped to his kneesand was peering into the shadow under the laboratory table. Whenat last he rose and straightened himself up, however, I saw thathe was holding in the palm of his hand a half-smoked, gold-tippedcigarette, which had evidently fallen on the floor beneath thetable where it had burned itself out, leaving a blackened mark onthe wood. 

An instant afterward he picked out from the pile of articles foundin Fortescue's pockets and lying on another table a silvercigarette case. He snapped it open. Fortescue's cigarettes, ofwhich there were perhaps a half dozen in the case, were cork-tipped. 

Some one had evidently visited the inventor the night before, hadapparently offered him a cigarette, for there were any number ofthe cork-tipped stubs lying about. Who was it? I caught Paulalooking with fascinated gaze at the gold-tipped stub, as Kennedycarefully folded it up in a piece of paper and deposited it in hispocket. Did she know something about the case, I wondered?

Without a word, Kennedy seemed to take in the scant furniture ofthe laboratory at a glance and a quick step or two brought himbefore a steel filing cabinet. One drawer, which had not beenclosed as tightly as the rest, projected a bit. On its face was alittle typewritten card bearing the inscription: "E-M GUN. "

He pulled the drawer open and glanced over the data in it. 

"Just what is an electro-magnetic gun?" I asked, interpreting theinitials on the drawer. 

"Well, " he explained as he turned over the notes and sketches, "the primary principle involved in the construction of such a gunconsists in impelling the projectile by the magnetic action of asolenoid, the sectional coils or helices of which are suppliedwith current through devices actuated by the projectile itself. Inother words, the sections of helices of the solenoid produce anaccelerated motion of the projectile by acting successively on it, after a principle involved in the construction of electro-magneticrock drills and dispatch tubes. 

"All projectiles used in this gun of Fortescue's evidently musthave magnetic properties and projectiles of iron or containinglarge portions of iron are necessary. You see, many coils arewound around the barrel of the gun. As the projectile starts itdoes so under the attraction of those coils ahead which thecurrent makes temporary magnets. It automatically cuts off thecurrent from those coils that it passes, allowing those further ononly to attract it, and preventing those behind from pulling itback. "

He paused to study the scraps of plans. "Fortescue had evidentlyalso worked out a way of changing the poles of the coils as theprojectile passed, causing them then to repel the projectile, which must have added to its velocity. He seems to have overcomethe practical difficulty that in order to obtain servicevelocities with service projectiles an enormous number of windingsand a tremendously long barrel are necessary as well as anabnormally heavy current beyond the safe carrying capacity of thesolenoid which would raise the temperature to a point that woulddestroy the coils. "

He continued turning over the prints and notes in the drawer. Whenhe finished, he looked up at us with an expression that indicatedthat he had merely satisfied himself of something he had alreadysuspected. 

"You were right, Burke, " he said. "The final plans are gone. "

Burke, who, in the meantime, had been telephoning about the cityin a vain effort to locate Baron Kreiger, both at such bankingoffices in Wall Street as he might be likely to visit and at someof the hotels most frequented by foreigners, merely nodded. He wasevidently at a loss completely how to proceed. 

In fact, there seemed to be innumerable problems--to warn BaronKreiger, to get the list of the assassinations, to guard Miss Loweagainst falling into the hands of her anarchist friends again, tofind the murderer of Fortescue, to prevent the use of the electro-magnetic gun, and, if possible, to seize the anarchists beforethey had a chance to carry further their plans. 

"There is nothing more that we can do here, " remarked Craigbriskly, betraying no sign of hesitation. "I think the best thingwe can do is to go to my own laboratory. There at least there issomething I must investigate sooner or later. "

No one offering either a suggestion or an objection, we four againentered our cab. It was quite noticeable now that the visit hadshaken Paula Lowe, but Kennedy still studiously refrained fromquestioning her, trusting that what she had seen and heard, especially Burke's report as to Baron Kreiger, would have itseffect. 

Like everyone visiting Craig's laboratory for the first time, MissLowe seemed to feel the spell of the innumerable strange anduncanny instruments which he had gathered about him in hisscientific warfare against crime. I could see that she wasbecoming more and more nervous, perhaps fearing even that in someincomprehensible way he might read her own thoughts. Yet one thingI did not detect. She showed no disposition to turn back on thecourse on which she had entered by coming to us in the firstplace. 

Kennedy was quickly and deftly testing the stub of the littlethin, gold-tipped cigarette. 

"Excessive smoking, " he remarked casually, "causes neuroses of theheart and tobacco has a specific affinity for the coronaryarteries as well as a tremendous effect on the vagus nerve. But Idon't think this was any ordinary smoke. "

He had finished his tests and a quiet smile of satisfactionflitted momentarily over his face. We had been watching himanxiously, wondering what he had found. 

As he looked up he remarked to us, with his eyes fixed on MissLowe, "That was a ladies' cigarette. Did you notice the size?There has been a woman in this case--presumably. "

The girl, suddenly transformed by the rapid-fire succession ofdiscoveries, stood before us like a specter. 

"The 'Group, ' as anarchists call it, " pursued Craig, "is theloosest sort of organization conceivable, I believe, with no setmembership, no officers, no laws--just a place of meeting with nofixity, where the comrades get together. Could you get us into theinner circle, Miss Lowe?"

Her only answer was a little suppressed scream. Kennedy had askedthe question merely for its effect, for it was only too evidentthat there was no time, even if she could have managed it, for usto play the "stool pigeon. "

Kennedy, who had been clearing up the materials he had used in theanalysis of the cigarette, wheeled about suddenly. "Where is theheadquarters of the inner circle?" he shot out. 

Miss Lowe hesitated. That had evidently been one of the things shehad determined not to divulge. 

"Tell me, " insisted Kennedy. "You must!"

If it had been Burke's bulldozing she would never have yielded. But as she looked into Kennedy's eyes she read there that he hadlong since fathomed the secret of her wildly beating heart, thatif she would accomplish the purpose of saving the Baron she muststop at nothing. 

"At--Maplehurst, " she answered in a low tone, dropping her eyesfrom his penetrating gaze, "Professor Annenberg's home--out onLong Island. "

"We must act swiftly if we are to succeed, " considered Kennedy, his tone betraying rather sympathy with than triumph over thewretched girl who had at last cast everything in the balance tooutweigh the terrible situation into which she had been drawn. "Tosend Miss Lowe for that fatal list of assassinations is to sendher either back into the power of this murderous group and letthem know that she has told us, or perhaps to involve her again inthe completion of their plans. "

She sank back into a chair in complete nervous and physicalcollapse, covering her face with her hands at the realization thatin her new-found passion to save the Baron she had bared hersensitive soul for the dissection of three men whom she had neverseen before. 

"We must have that list, " pursued Kennedy decisively. "We mustvisit Annenberg's headquarters. "

"And I?" she asked, trembling now with genuine fear at the thoughtthat he might ask her to accompany us as he had on our visit toFortescue's laboratory that morning. 

"Miss Lowe, " said Kennedy, bending over her, "you have gone toofar now ever to turn back. You are not equal to the trip. Wouldyou like to remain here? No one will suspect. Here at least youwill be safe until we return. "

Her answer was a mute expression of thanks and confidence. 

CHAPTER III

THE MURDER SYNDICATE

Quickly now Craig completed his arrangements for the visit to theheadquarters of the real anarchist leader. Burke telephoned for ahigh-powered car, while Miss Lowe told frankly of the habits ofAnnenberg and the chances of finding his place unguarded, whichwere good in the daytime. Kennedy's only equipment for theexcursion consisted in a small package which he took from acabinet at the end of the room, and, with a parting reassurance toPaula Lowe, we were soon speeding over the bridge to the boroughacross the river. 

We realized that it might prove a desperate undertaking, but thecrisis was such that it called for any risk. 

Our quest took us to a rather dilapidated old house on theoutskirts of the little Long Island town. The house stood alone, not far from the tracks of a trolley that ran at infrequentintervals. Even a hasty reconnoitering showed that to stop ourmotor at even a reasonable distance from it was in itself toarouse suspicion. 

Although the house seemed deserted, Craig took no chances, butdirected the car to turn at the next crossroad and then run backalong a road back of and parallel to that on which Annenberg's wassituated. It was perhaps a quarter of a mile away, across an openfield, that we stopped and ran the car up along the side of theroad in some bushes. Annenberg's was plainly visible and it wasnot at all likely that anyone there would suspect trouble fromthat quarter. 

A hasty conference with Burke followed, in which Kennedy unwrappedhis small package, leaving part of its contents with him, andadding careful instructions. 

Then Kennedy and I retraced our steps down the road, across by thecrossroad, and at last back to the mysterious house. 

To all appearance there had been no need of such excessivecaution. Not a sound or motion greeted us as we entered the gateand made our way around to the rear of the house. The veryisolation of the house was now our protection, for we had noinquisitive neighbors to watch us for the instant when Kennedy, with the dexterity of a yeggman, inserted his knife between thesashes of the kitchen window and turned the catch which admittedus. 

We made our way on cautious tiptoe through a dining room to aliving room, and, finding nothing, proceeded upstairs. There wasnot a soul, apparently, in the house, nor in fact anything toindicate that it was different from most small suburban homes, until at last we mounted to the attic. 

It was finished off in one large room across the back of the houseand two in front. As we opened the door to the larger room, wecould only gaze about in surprise. This was the rendezvous, thearsenal, literary, explosive and toxicological of the "Group. "Ranged on a table were all the materials for bomb-making, while ina cabinet I fancied there were poisons enough to decimate a city. 

On the walls were pictures, mostly newspaper prints, of theassassins of McKinley, of King Humbert, of the King of Greece, ofKing Carlos and others, interspersed with portraits of anarchistand anti-militarist leaders of all lands. 

Kennedy sniffed. Over all I, too, could catch the faint odor ofstale tobacco. No time was to be lost, however, and while Craigset to work rapidly going through the contents of a desk in thecorner, I glanced over the contents of a drawer of a heavy missiontable. 

"Here's some of Annenberg's literature, " I remarked, coming acrossa small pile of manuscript, entitled "The Human Slaughter House. "

"Read it, " panted Kennedy, seeing that I had about completed mypart of the job. "It may give a clue. "

Hastily I scanned the mad, frantic indictment of war, while Craigcontinued in his search:

"I see wild beasts all around me, distorted unnaturally, in a lifeand death struggle, with bloodshot eyes, with foaming, gnashingmouths. They attack and kill one another and try to mangle eachother. I leap to my feet. I race out into the night and tread onquaking flesh, step on hard heads, and stumble over weapons andhelmets. Something is clutching at my feet like hands, so that Irace away like a hunted deer with the hounds at his heels--andever over more bodies--breathless. .. Out of one field intoanother. Horror is crooning over my head. Horror is crooningbeneath my feet. And nothing but dying, mangled flesh!

"Of a sudden I see nothing but blood before me. The heavens haveopened and the red blood pours in through the windows. Blood wellsup on an altar. The walls run blood from the ceiling to the floorand. .. A giant of blood stands before me. His beard and his hairdrip blood. He seats himself on the altar and laughs from thicklips. The black executioner raises his sword and whirls it abovemy head. Another moment and my head will roll down on the floor. Another moment and the red jet will spurt from my neck. 

"Murderers! Murderers! None other than murderers!"

I paused in the reading. "There's nothing here, " I remarked, glancing over the curious document for a clue, but finding none. 

"Well, " remarked Craig contemplatively, "one can at least easilyunderstand how sensitive and imaginative people who have fallenunder the influence of one who writes in that way can feeljustified in killing those responsible for bringing such horrorson the human race. Hello--what's this?"

He had discovered a false back of one of the drawers in the deskand had jimmied it open. On the top of innumerable papers lay alarge linen envelope. On its face it bore in typewriting, justlike the card on the drawer at Fortescue's, "E-M GUN. "

"It is the original envelope that contained the final plans of theelectro-magnetic gun, " he explained, opening it. 

The envelope was empty. We looked at each other a moment insilence. What had been done with the plans?

Suddenly a bell rang, startling me beyond measure. It was, however, only the telephone, of which an extension reached up intothe attic-arsenal. Some one, who did not know that we were there, was evidently calling up. 

Kennedy quickly unhooked the receiver with a hasty motion to me tobe silent. 

"Hello, " I heard him answer. "Yes, this is it. "

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

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

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

"It was Mrs. Annenberg--I am sure. But she was too keen for me. She caught on. There must be some password or form of expressionthat they use, which we don't know, for she hung up the receiveralmost as soon as she heard me. "

Kennedy waited a minute or so. Then he whistled into thetransmitter. It was done apparently to see whether there wasanyone listening. But there was no answer. 

"Operator, operator!" he called insistently, moving the hook upand down. "Yes, operator. Can you tell me what number that waswhich just called?"

He waited impatiently. 

"Bleecker--7l80, " he repeated after the girl. "Thank you. Information, please. "

Again we waited, as Craig tried to trace the call up. 

"What is the street address of Bleecker, 7180?" he asked. "Fivehundred and one East Fifth--a tenement. Thank you. "

"A tenement?" I repeated blankly. 

"Yes, " he cried, now for the first time excited. "Don't you beginto see the scheme? I'll wager that Baron Kreiger has been lured toNew York to purchase the electro-magnetic gun which they havestolen from Fortescue and the British. That is the bait that isheld out to him by the woman. Call up Miss Lowe at the laboratoryand see if she knows the place. "

I gave central the number, while he fell to at the little secretdrawer of the desk again. The grinding of the wheels of a passingtrolley interfered somewhat with giving the number and I had towait a moment. 

"Ah--Walter--here's the list!" almost shouted Kennedy, as he brokeopen a black-japanned dispatch box in the desk. 

I bent over it, as far as the slack of the telephone wire of thereceiver at my ear would permit. Annenberg had worked with amazingcare and neatness on the list, even going so far as to draw at thetop, in black, a death's head. The rest of it was elaboratelyprepared in flaming red ink. 

Craig gasped to observe the list of world-famous men marked fordestruction in London, Paris, Berlin, Rome, Vienna, St. Petersburg, and even in New York and Washington. 

"What is the date set?" I asked, still with my ear glued to thereceiver. 

"To-night and to-morrow, " he replied, stuffing the fateful sheetinto his pocket. 

Rummaging about in the drawer of the table, I had come to apackage of gold-tipped cigarettes which had interested me and Ihad left them out. Kennedy was now looking at them curiously. 

"What is to be the method, do you suppose?" I asked. 

"By a poison that is among the most powerful, approaching evencyanogen, " he replied confidently, tapping the cigarettes. "Do yousmell the odor in this room? What is it like?"

"Stale tobacco, " I replied. 

"Exactly--nicotine. Two or three drops on the mouth-end of a cigaror cigarette. The intended victim thinks it is only natural. Butit is the purest form of the deadly alkaloid--fatal in a fewminutes, too. "

He examined the thin little cigarettes more carefully. "Nicotine, "he went on, "was about the first alkaloid that was recovered fromthe body by chemical analysis in a homicide case. That is thepenetrating, persistent odor you smelled at Fortescue's and alsohere. It's a very good poison--if you are not particular aboutbeing discovered. A pound of ordinary smoking tobacco containsfrom a half to an ounce of it. It is almost entirely consumed bycombustion; otherwise a pipeful would be fatal. Of course they mayhave thought that investigators would believe that their victimswere inveterate smokers. But even the worst tobacco fiend wouldn'tshow traces of the weed to such an extent. "

Miss Lowe answered at last and Kennedy took the telephone. 

"What is at five hundred and one East Fifth?" he asked. 

"A headquarters of the Group in the city, " she answered. "Why?"

"Well, I believe that the plans of that gun are there and that theBaron--"

"You damned spies!" came a voice from behind us. 

Kennedy dropped the receiver, turning quickly, his automaticgleaming in his hand. 

There was just a glimpse of a man with glittering bright blue eyesthat had an almost fiendish, baleful glare. An instant later thedoor which had so unexpectedly opened banged shut, we heard a keyturn in the lock--and the man dropped to the floor before evenKennedy's automatic could test its ability to penetrate wood on achance at hitting something the other side of it. 

We were prisoners!

My mind worked automatically. At this very moment, perhaps, BaronKreiger might be negotiating for the electro-magnetic gun. We hadfound out where he was, in all probability, but we were powerlessto help him. I thought of Miss Lowe, and picked up the receiverwhich Kennedy had dropped. 

She did not answer. The wire had been cut. We were isolated!

Kennedy had jumped to the window. I followed to restrain him, fearing that he had some mad scheme for climbing out. Instead, quickly he placed a peculiar arrangement, from the little packagehe had brought, holding it to his eye as if sighting it, his righthand grasping a handle as one holds a stereoscope. A moment later, as I examined it more closely, I saw that instead of looking atanything he had before him a small parabolic mirror turned awayfrom him. 

His finger pressed alternately on a button on the handle and Icould see that there flashed in the little mirror a minuteincandescent lamp which seemed to have a special filamentarrangement. 

The glaring sun was streaming in at the window and I wondered whatcould possibly be accomplished by the little light in competitionwith the sun itself. 

"Signaling by electric light in the daytime may sound to youridiculous, " explained Craig, still industriously flashing thelight, "but this arrangement with Professor Donath's signal mirrormakes it possible, all right. 

"I hadn't expected this, but I thought I might want to communicatewith Burke quickly. You see, I sight the lamp and then press thebutton which causes the light in the mirror to flash. It seems aparadox that a light like this can be seen from a distance of evenfive miles and yet be invisible to one for whom it was notintended, but it is so. I use the ordinary Morse code--two secondsfor a dot, six for a dash with a four-second interval. "

"What message did you send?" I asked. 

"I told him that Baron Kreiger was at five hundred and one EastFifth, probably; to get the secret service office in New York bywire and have them raid the place, then to come and rescue us. That was Annenberg. He must have come up by that trolley we heardpassing just before. "

The minutes seemed ages as we waited for Burke to start themachinery of the raid and then come for us. 

"No--you can't have a cigarette--and if I had a pair of braceletswith me, I'd search you myself, " we heard a welcome voice growloutside the door a few minutes later. "Look in that other pocket, Tom. "

The lock grated back and there stood Burke holding in a grip ofsteel the undersized Annenberg, while the chauffeur who had drivenour car swung open the door. 

"I'd have been up sooner, " apologized Burke, giving the anarchistan extra twist just to let him know that he was at last in thehands of the law, "only I figured that this fellow couldn't havegot far away in this God-forsaken Ducktown and I might as wellpick him up while I had a chance. That's a great little instrumentof yours, Kennedy. I got you, fine. "

Annenberg, seeing we were now four to one, concluded thatdiscretion was the better part of valor and ceased to struggle, though now and then I could see he glanced at Kennedy out of thecorner of his eye. To every question he maintained a stolidsilence. 

A few minutes later, with the arch anarchist safely pinionedbetween us, we were speeding back toward New York, laying plansfor Burke to dispatch warnings abroad to those whose namesappeared on the fatal list, and at the same time to round up asmany of the conspirators as possible in America. 

As for Kennedy, his main interest now lay in Baron Kreiger andPaula. While she had been driven frantic by the outcome of theterrible pact into which she had been drawn, some one, undoubtedly, had been trying to sell Baron Kreiger the gun thathad been stolen from the American inventor. Once they had hismoney and he had received the plans of the gun, a fatal cigarettewould be smoked. Could we prevent it?

On we tore back to the city, across the bridge and down throughthe canyons of East Side streets. 

At last we pulled up before the tenement at five hundred and one. As we did so, one of Burke's men jumped out of the doorway. 

"Are we in time?" shouted Burke. 

"It's an awful mix-up, " returned the man. "I can't make anythingout of it, so I ordered 'em all held here till you came. "

We pushed past without a word of criticism of his wonderfulacumen. 

On the top floor we came upon a young man, bending over the formof a girl who had fainted. On the floor of the middle of the roomwas a mass of charred papers which had evidently burned a hole inthe carpet before they had been stamped out. Near by was anunlighted cigarette, crushed flat on the floor. 

"How is she?" asked Kennedy anxiously of the young man, as hedropped down on the other side of the girl. 

It was Paula. She had fainted, but was just now coming out of theborderland of unconsciousness. 

"Was I in time? Had he smoked it?" she moaned weakly, as thereswam before her eyes, evidently, a hazy vision of our faces. 

Kennedy turned to the young man. 

"Baron Kreiger, I presume?" he inquired. 

The young man nodded. 

"Burke of the Secret Service, " introduced Craig, indicating ourfriend. "My name is Kennedy. Tell what happened. "

"I had just concluded a transaction, " returned Kreiger in good butcarefully guarded English. "Suddenly the door burst open. Sheseized these papers and dashed a cigarette out of my hands. Thenext instant she had touched a match to them and had fallen in afaint almost in the blaze. Strangest experience I ever had in mylife. Then all these other fellows came bursting in--said theywere Secret Service men, too. "

Kennedy had no time to reply, for a cry from Annenberg directedour attention to the next room where on a couch lay a figure allhuddled up. 

As we looked we saw it was a woman, her head sweating profusely, and her hands cold and clammy. There was a strange twitching ofthe muscles of the face, the pupils of her eyes were widelydilated, her pulse weak and irregular. Evidently her circulationhad failed so that it responded only feebly to stimulants, for herrespiration was slow and labored, with loud inspiratory gasps. 

Annenberg had burst with superhuman strength from Burke's graspand was kneeling by the side of his wife's deathbed. 

"It--was all Paula's fault--" gasped the woman. "I--knew I hadbetter--carry it through--like the Fortescue visit--alone. "

I felt a sense of reassurance at the words. At least my suspicionshad been unfounded. Paula was innocent of the murder of Fortescue. 

"Severe, acute nicotine poisoning, " remarked Kennedy, as herejoined us a moment later. "There is nothing we can do--now. "

Paula moved at the words, as though they had awakened a new energyin her. With a supreme effort she raised herself. 

"Then I--I failed?" she cried, catching sight of Kennedy. 

"No, Miss Lowe, " he answered gently. "You won. The plans of theterrible gun are destroyed. The Baron is safe. Mrs. Annenberg hasherself smoked one of the fatal cigarettes intended for him. "

Kreiger looked at us, uncomprehending. Kennedy picked up thecrushed, unlighted cigarette and laid it in the palm of his handbeside another, half smoked, which he had found beside Mrs. Annenberg. 

"They are deadly, " he said simply to Kreiger. "A few drops of purenicotine hidden by that pretty gilt tip would have accomplishedall that the bitterest anarchist could desire. "

All at once Kreiger seemed to realize what he had escaped sonarrowly. He turned toward Paula. The revulsion of her feelings atseeing him safe was too much for her shattered nerves. 

With a faint little cry, she tottered. 

Before any of us could reach her, he had caught her in his armsand imprinted a warm kiss on the insensible lips. 

"Some water--quick!" he cried, still holding her close. 

CHAPTER IV

THE AIR PIRATE

Rounding up the "Group" took several days, and it proved to be agreat story for the Star. I was pretty fagged when it was allover, but there was a great deal of satisfaction in knowing thatwe had frustrated one of the most daring anarchist plots of recentyears. 

"Can you arrange to spend the week-end with me at StuyvesantVerplanck's at Bluffwood?" asked Kennedy over the telephone, theafternoon that I had completed my work on the newspaper of undoingwhat Annenberg and the rest had attempted. 

"How long since society took you up?" I asked airily, adding, "Isit a large house party you are getting up?"

"You have heard of the so-called 'phantom bandit' of Bluffwood, haven't you?" he returned rather brusquely, as though there was notime now for bantering. 

I confess that in the excitement of the anarchists I had forgottenit, but now I recalled that for several days I had been readinglittle paragraphs about robberies on the big estates on the LongIsland shore of the Sound. One of the local correspondents hadcalled the robber a "phantom bandit, " but I had thought it nothingmore than an attempt to make good copy out of a rather ordinaryoccurrence. 

"Well, " he hurried on, "that's the reason why I have been 'takenup by society, ' as you so elegantly phrase it. From the secrethiding-places of the boudoirs and safes of fashionable women atBluffwood, thousands of dollars' worth of jewels and othertrinkets have mysteriously vanished. Of course you'll come along. Why, it will be just the story to tone up that alleged page ofsociety news you hand out in the Sunday Star. There--we're quitsnow. Seriously, though, Walter, it really seems to be a verybaffling case, or rather series of cases. The whole colony outthere is terrorized. They don't know who the robber is, or how heoperates, or who will be the next victim, but his skill andsuccess seem almost uncanny. Mr. Verplanck has put one of his carsat my disposal and I'm up here at the laboratory gathering someapparatus that may be useful. I'll pick you up anywhere betweenthis and the Bridge--how about Columbus Circle in half an hour?"

"Good, " I agreed, deciding quickly from his tone and manner ofassurance that it would be a case I could not afford to miss. 

The Stuyvesant Verplancks, I knew, were among the leaders of therather recherche society at Bluffwood, and the pace at whichBluffwood moved and had its being was such as to guarantee a goodstory in one way or another. 

"Why, " remarked Kennedy, as we sped out over the picturesque roadsof the north shore of Long Island, "this fellow, or fellows, seemsto have taken the measure of all the wealthy members of theexclusive organizations out there--the Westport Yacht Club, theBluffwood Country Club, the North Shore Hunt, and all of them. It's a positive scandal, the ease with which he seems to come andgo without detection, striking now here, now there, often atplaces that it seems physically impossible to get at, and yetalways with the same diabolical skill and success. One night hewill take some baubles worth thousands, the next pass them by forsomething apparently of no value at all, a piece of bric-a-brac, abundle of letters, anything. "

"Seems purposeless, insane, doesn't it?" I put in. 

"Not when he always takes something--often more valuable thanmoney, " returned Craig. 

He leaned back in the car and surveyed the glimpses of bay andcountryside as we were whisked by the breaks in the trees. 

"Walter, " he remarked meditatively, "have you ever considered thepossibilities of blackmail if the right sort of evidence wereobtained under this new 'white-slavery act'? Scandals that some ofthe fast set may be inclined to wink at, that at worst used to endin Reno, become felonies with federal prison sentences looming upin the background. Think it over. "

Stuyvesant Verplanck had telephoned rather hurriedly to Craigearlier in the day, retaining his services, but telling only inthe briefest way of the extent of the depredations, and hintingthat more than jewelry might be at stake. 

It was a pleasant ride, but we finished it in silence. Verplanckwas, as I recalled, a large masterful man, one of those whodemanded and liked large things--such as the estate of severalhundred acres which we at last entered. 

It was on a neck of land with the restless waters of the Sound onone side and the calmer waters of the bay on the other. WestportBay lay in a beautifully wooded, hilly country, and the houseitself was on an elevation, with a huge sweep of terraced lawnbefore it down to the water's edge. All around, for miles, wereother large estates, a veritable colony of wealth. 

As we pulled up under the broad stone porte-cochere, Verplanck, who had been expecting us, led the way into his library, a greatroom, literally crowded with curios and objects of art which hehad collected on his travels. It was a superb mental workshop, overlooking the bay, with a stretch of several miles of shelteredwater. 

"You will recall, " began Verplanck, wasting no time overpreliminaries, but plunging directly into the subject, "that theprominent robberies of late have been at seacoast resorts, especially on the shores of Long Island Sound, within, say, ahundred miles of New York. There has been a great deal of talkabout dark and muffled automobiles that have conveyed mysteriousparties swiftly and silently across country. 

"My theory, " he went on self-assertively, "is that the attack hasbeen made always along water routes. Under shadow of darkness, itis easy to slip into one of the sheltered coves or miniaturefiords with which the north coast of the Island abounds, land acut-throat crew primed with exact information of the treasure onsome of these estates. Once the booty is secured, the criminalcould put out again into the Sound without leaving a clue. "

He seemed to be considering his theory. "Perhaps the robberieslast summer at Narragansett, Newport, and a dozen other NewEngland places were perpetrated by the same cracksman. I believe, "he concluded, lowering his voice, "that there plies to-day on thewide waters of the Sound a slim, swift motor boat which wears theair of a pleasure craft, yet is as black a pirate as ever flew theJolly Roger. She may at this moment be anchored off some exclusiveyacht club, flying the respectable burgee of the club--who knows?"

He paused as if his deductions settled the case so far. He wouldhave resumed in the same vein, if the door had not opened. A ladyin a cobwebby gown entered the room. She was of middle age, buthad retained her youth with a skill that her sisters of lessleisure always envy. Evidently she had not expected to findanyone, yet nothing seemed to disconcert her. 

"Mrs. Verplanck, " her husband introduced, "Professor Kennedy andhis associate, Mr. Jameson--those detectives we have heard about. We were discussing the robberies. "

"Oh, yes, " she said, smiling, "my husband has been thinking offorming himself into a vigilance committee. The local authoritiesare all at sea. "

I thought there was a trace of something veiled in the remark andfancied, not only then but later, that there was an air ofconstraint between the couple. 

"You have not been robbed yourself?" queried Craig tentatively. 

"Indeed we have, " exclaimed Verplanck quickly. "The other night Iwas awakened by the noise of some one down here in this verylibrary. I fired a shot, wild, and shouted, but before I could getdown here the intruder had fled through a window, and half rollingdown the terraces. Mrs. Verplanck was awakened by the rumpus andboth of us heard a peculiar whirring noise. "

"Like an automobile muffled down, " she put in. 

"No, " he asserted vigorously, "more like a powerful motor boat, one with the exhaust under water. "

"Well, " she shrugged, "at any rate, we saw no one. "

"Did the intruder get anything?"

"That's the lucky part. He had just opened this safe apparentlyand begun to ransack it. This is my private safe. Mrs. Verplanckhas another built into her own room upstairs where she keeps herjewels. "

"It is not a very modern safe, is it?" ventured Kennedy. "Thefellow ripped off the outer casing with what they call a 'can-opener. '"

"No. I keep it against fire rather than burglars. But heoverlooked a box of valuable heirlooms, some silver with theVerplanck arms. I think I must have scared him off just in time. He seized a package in the safe, but it was only some businesscorrespondence. I don't relish having lost it, particularly. Itrelated to a gentlemen's agreement a number of us had in therecent cotton corner. I suppose the Government would like to haveit. But--here's the point. If it is so easy to get in and getaway, no one in Bluffwood is safe. "

"Why, he robbed the Montgomery Carter place the other night, "remarked Mrs. Verplanck, "and almost got a lot of old Mrs. Carter's jewels as well as stuff belonging to her son, Montgomery, Junior. That was the first robbery. Mr. Carter, that is Junior--Monty, everyone calls him--and his chauffeur almost captured thefellow, but he managed to escape in the woods. "

"In the woods?" repeated Craig. 

Mrs. Verplanck nodded. "But they saved the loot he was about totake. "

"Oh, no one is safe any more, " reiterated Verplanck. "Carter seemsto be the only one who has had a real chance at him, and he wasable to get away neatly. "

"But he's not the only one who got off without a loss, " she put insignificantly. "The last visit--" Then she paused. 

"Where was the last attempt?" asked Kennedy. 

"At the house of Mrs. Hollingsworth--around the point on this sideof the bay. You can't see it from here. "

"I'd like to go there, " remarked Kennedy. 

"Very well. Car or boat?"

"Boat, I think. "

"Suppose we go in my little runabout, the Streamline II? She's asfast as any ordinary automobile. "

"Very good. Then we can get an idea of the harbor. "

"I'll telephone first that we are coming, " said Verplanck. 

"I think I'll go, too, " considered Mrs. Verplanck, ringing for aheavy wrap. 

"Just as you please, " said Verplanck. 

The Streamline was a three-stepped boat which. Verplanck had builtfor racing, a beautiful craft, managed much like a racingautomobile. As she started from the dock, the purring drone of hereight cylinders sent her feathering over the waves like a skippingstone. She sank back into the water, her bow leaping upward, acloud of spray in her wake, like a waterspout. 

Mrs. Hollingsworth was a wealthy divorcee, living rather quietlywith her two children, of whom the courts had awarded her thecare. She was a striking woman, one of those for whom the newstyles of dress seem especially to have been designed. I gathered, however, that she was not on very good terms with the littleWestport clique in which the Verplancks moved, or at least notwith Mrs. Verplanck. The two women seemed to regard each otherrather coldly, I thought, although Mr. Verplanck, man-like, seemedto scorn any distinctions and was more than cordial. I wonderedwhy Mrs. Verplanck had come. 

The Hollingsworth house was a beautiful little place down the bayfrom the Yacht Club, but not as far as Verplanck's, or the Carterestate, which was opposite. 

"Yes, " replied Mrs. Hollingsworth when the reason for our visithad been explained, "the attempt was a failure. I happened to beawake, rather late, or perhaps you would call it early. I thoughtI heard a noise as if some one was trying to break into thedrawing-room through the window. I switched on all the lights. Ihave them arranged so for just that purpose of scaring offintruders. Then, as I looked out of my window on the second floor, I fancied I could see a dark figure slink into the shadow of theshrubbery at the side of the house. Then there was a whirr. Itmight have been an automobile, although it sounded differentlyfrom that--more like a motor boat. At any rate, there was no traceof a car that we could discover in the morning. The road had beenoiled, too, and a car would have left marks. And yet some one washere. There were marks on the drawing-room window just where Iheard the sounds. "

Who could it be? I asked myself as we left. I knew that the greatarmy of chauffeurs was infested with thieves, thugs and gunmen. Then, too, there were maids, always useful as scouts for thesecorsairs who prey on the rich. Yet so adroitly had everything beendone in these cases that not a clue seemed to have been leftbehind by which to trace the thief. 

We returned to Verplanck's in the Streamline in record time, dined, and then found McNeill, a local detective, waiting to addhis quota of information. McNeill was of the square-toed, double-chinned, bull-necked variety, just the man to take along if therewas any fighting. He had, however, very little to add to thesolution of the mystery, apparently believing in the chauffeur-and-maid theory. 

It was too late to do anything more that night, and we sat on theVerplanck porch, overlooking the beautiful harbor. It was a black, inky night, with no moon, one of those nights when the myriadlights on the boats were mere points in the darkness. As we lookedout over the water, considering the case which as yet we hadhardly started on, Kennedy seemed engrossed in the study in black. 

"I thought I saw a moving light for an instant across the bay, above the boats, and as though it were in the darkness of thehills on the other side. Is there a road over there, above theCarter house?" he asked suddenly. 

"There is a road part of the way on the crest of the hill, "replied Mrs. Verplanck. "You can see a car on it, now and then, through the trees, like a moving light. "

"Over there, I mean, " reiterated Kennedy, indicating the light asit flashed now faintly, then disappeared, to reappear furtheralong, like a gigantic firefly in the night. 

"N-no, " said Verplanck. "I don't think the road runs down as faras that. It is further up the bay. "

"What is it then?" asked Kennedy, half to himself. "It seems to betraveling rapidly. Now it must be about opposite the Carter house. There--it has gone. "

We continued to watch for several minutes, but it did notreappear. Could it have been a light on the mast of a boat movingrapidly up the bay and perhaps nearer to us than we suspected?Nothing further happened, however, and we retired early, expectingto start with fresh minds on the case in the morning. Severalwatchmen whom Verplanck employed both on the shore and along thedriveways were left guarding every possible entrance to theestate. 

Yet the next morning as we met in the cheery east breakfast room, Verplanck's gardener came in, hat in hand, with much suppressedexcitement. 

In his hand he held an orange which he had found in the shrubberyunderneath the windows of the house. In it was stuck a long nailand to the nail was fastened a tag. 

Kennedy read it quickly. 

"If this had been a bomb, you and your detectives would never haveknown what struck you. 

"AQUAERO. "

CHAPTER V

THE ULTRA-VIOLET RAY

"Good Gad, man!" exclaimed Verplanck, who had read it over Craig'sshoulder. "What do you make of THAT?"

Kennedy merely shook his head. Mrs. Verplanck was the calmest ofall. 

"The light, " I cried. "You remember the light? Could it have beena signal to some one on this side of the bay, a signal light inthe woods?"

"Possibly, " commented Kennedy absently, adding, "Robbery with thisfellow seems to be an art as carefully strategized as a promoter'splan or a merchant's trade campaign. I think I'll run over thismorning and see if there is any trace of anything on the Carterestate. "

Just then the telephone rang insistently. It was McNeill, muchexcited, though he had not heard of the orange incident. Verplanckanswered the call. 

"Have you heard the news?" asked McNeill. "They report thismorning that that fellow must have turned up last night at BelleAire. "

"Belle Aire? Why, man, that's fifty miles away and on the otherside of the island. He was here last night, " and Verplanck relatedbriefly the find of the morning. "No boat could get around theisland in that time and as for a car--those roads are almostimpossible at night. "

"Can't help it, " returned McNeill doggedly. "The Halstead estateout at Belle Aire was robbed last night. It's spooky all right. "

"Tell McNeill I want to see him--will meet him in the villagedirectly, " cut in Craig before Verplanck had finished. 

We bolted a hasty breakfast and in one of Verplanck's cars hurriedto meet McNeill. 

"What do you intend doing?" he asked helplessly, as Kennedyfinished his recital of the queer doings of the night before. 

"I'm going out now to look around the Carter place. Can you comealong?"

"Surely, " agreed McNeill, climbing into the car. "You know him?"

"No. "

"Then I'll introduce you. Queer chap, Carter. He's a lawyer, although I don't think he has much practice, except managing hismother's estate. "

McNeill settled back in the luxurious car with an exclamation ofsatisfaction. 

"What do you think of Verplanck?" he asked. 

"He seems to me to be a very public-spirited man, " answeredKennedy discreetly. 

That, however, was not what McNeill meant and he ignored it. Andso for the next ten minutes we were entertained with a littleretail scandal of Westport and Bluffwood, including a tale thatseemed to have gained currency that Verplanck and Mrs. Hollingsworth were too friendly to please Mrs. Verplanck. I setthe whole thing down to the hostility and jealousy of the townspeople who misinterpret everything possible in the smart set, although I could not help recalling how quickly she had spokenwhen we had visited the Hollingsworth house in the Streamline theday before. 

Montgomery Carter happened to be at home and, at least openly, interposed no objection to our going about the grounds. 

"You see, " explained Kennedy, watching the effect of his words asif to note whether Carter himself had noticed anything unusual thenight before, "we saw a light moving over here last night. To tellthe truth, I half expected you would have a story to add to ours, of a second visit. "

Carter smiled. "No objection at all. I'm simply nonplussed at thenerve of this fellow, coming back again. I guess you've heard whata narrow squeak he had with me. You're welcome to go anywhere, just so long as you don't disturb my study down there in theboathouse. I use that because it overlooks the bay--just the placeto study over knotty legal problems. "

Back of, or in front of the Carter house, according as you fanciedit faced the bay or not, was the boathouse, built by Carter'sfather, who had been a great yachtsman in his day and commodore ofthe club. His son had not gone in much for water sports and hadconverted the corner underneath a sort of observation tower into asort of country law office. 

"There has always seemed to me to be something strange about thatboathouse since the old man died, " remarked McNeill in a halfwhisper as we left Carter. "He always keeps it locked and neverlets anyone go in there, although they say he has it fittedbeautifully with hundreds of volumes of law books, too. "

Kennedy had been climbing the hill back of the house and nowpaused to look about. Below was the Carter garage. 

"By the way, " exclaimed McNeill, as if he had at last hit on agreat discovery, "Carter has a new chauffeur, a fellow namedWickham. I just saw him driving down to the village. He's a chapthat it might pay us to watch--a newcomer, smart as a steel trap, they say, but not much of a talker. " "Suppose you take that job--watch him, " encouraged Kennedy. "We can't know too much aboutstrangers here, McNeill. "

"That's right, " agreed the detective. "I'll follow him back to thevillage and get a line on him. "

"Don't be easily discouraged, " added Kennedy, as McNeill starteddown the hill to the garage. "If he is a fox he'll try to throwyou off the trail. Hang on. "

"What was that for?" I asked as the detective disappeared. "Didyou want to get rid of him?"

"Partly, " replied Craig, descending slowly, after a long survey ofthe surrounding country. 

We had reached the garage, deserted now except for our own car. 

"I'd like to investigate that tower, " remarked Kennedy with a keenlook at me, "if it could be done without seeming to violate Mr. Carter's hospitality. "

"Well, " I observed, my eye catching a ladder beside the garage, "there's a ladder. We can do no more than try. "

He walked over to the automobile, took a little package out, slipped it into his pocket, and a few minutes later we had set theladder up against the side of the boathouse farthest away from thehouse. It was the work of only a moment for Kennedy to scale itand prowl across the roof to the tower, while I stood guard at thefoot. 

"No one has been up there recently, " he panted breathlessly as herejoined me. "There isn't a sign. "

We took the ladder quietly back to the garage, then Kennedy ledthe way down the shore to a sort of little summerhouse cut offfrom the boathouse and garage by the trees, though over the top ofa hedge one could still see the boathouse tower. 

We sat down, and Craig filled his lungs with the good salt air, sweeping his eye about the blue and green panorama as though thiswere a holiday and not a mystery case. 

"Walter, " he said at length, "I wish you'd take the car and goaround to Verplanck's. I don't think you can see the tower throughthe trees, but I should like to be sure. "

I found that it could not be seen, though I tried all over theplace and got myself disliked by the gardener and suspected by awatchman with a dog. 

It could not have been from the tower of the boathouse that we hadseen the light, and I hurried back to Craig to tell him so. Butwhen I returned, I found that he was impatiently pacing the littlerustic summerhouse, no longer interested in what he had sent me tofind out. 

"What has happened?" I asked eagerly. 

"Just come out here and I'll show you something, " he replied, leaving the summerhouse and approaching the boathouse from theother side of the hedge, on the beach, so that the house itselfcut us off from observation from Carter's. 

"I fixed a lens on the top of that tower when I was up there, " heexplained, pointing up at it. "It must be about fifty feet high. From there, you see, it throws a reflection down to this mirror. Idid it because through a skylight in the tower I could readwhatever was written by anyone sitting at Carter's desk in thecorner under it. "

"Read?" I repeated, mystified. 

"Yes, by invisible light, " he continued. "This invisible lightbusiness, you know, is pretty well understood by this time. I wasonly repeating what was suggested once by Professor Wood of JohnsHopkins. Practically all sources of light, you understand, giveout more or less ultraviolet light, which plays no part in visionwhatever. The human eye is sensitive to but few of the light raysthat reach it, and if our eyes were constituted just the least bitdifferently we should have an entirely different set of images. 

"But by the use of various devices we can, as it were, translatethese ultraviolet rays into terms of what the human eye can see. In order to do it, all the visible light rays which show us thething as we see it--the tree green, the sky blue--must be cut off. So in taking an ultraviolet photograph a screen must be used whichwill be opaque to these visible rays and yet will let theultraviolet rays through to form the image. That gave ProfessorWood a lot of trouble. Glass won't do, for glass cuts off theultraviolet rays entirely. Quartz is a very good medium, but itdoes not cut off all the visible light. In fact there is only onething that will do the work, and that is metallic silver. "

I could not fathom what he was driving at, but the fascination ofKennedy himself was quite sufficient. 

"Silver, " he went on, "is all right if the objects can beilluminated by an electric spark or some other source rich in therays. But it isn't entirely satisfactory when sunlight isconcerned, for various reasons that I need not bore you with. Professor Wood has worked out a process of depositing nickel onglass. That's it up there, " he concluded, wheeling a lowerreflector about until it caught the image of the afternoon sunthrown from the lens on the top of the tower. 

"You see, " he resumed, "that upper lens is concave so that itenlarges tremendously. I can do some wonderful tricks with that. "

I had been lighting a cigarette and held a box of safety windmatches in my hand. 

"Give me that matchbox, " he asked. 

He placed it at the foot of the tower. Then he went off, I shouldsay, without exaggeration, a hundred feet. 

The lettering on the matchbox could be seen in the silveredmirror, enlarged to such a point that the letters were plainlyvisible!

"Think of the possibilities in that, " he added excitedly. "I sawthem at once. You can read what some one is writing at a desk ahundred, perhaps two hundred feet away. "

"Yes, " I cried, more interested in the practical aspects of itthan in the mechanics and optics. "What have you found?"

"Some one came into the boathouse while you were away, " he said. "He had a note. It read, 'Those new detectives are watchingeverything. We must have the evidence. You must get those lettersto-night, without fail. '"

"Letters--evidence, " I repeated. "Who wrote it? Who received it?"

"I couldn't see over the hedge who had entered the boathouse, andby the time I got around here he was gone. "

"Was it Wickham--or intended for Wickham?" I asked. 

Kennedy shrugged his shoulders. 

"We'll gain nothing by staying here, " he said. "There is just onepossibility in the case, and I can guard against that only byreturning to Verplanck's and getting some of that stuff I broughtup here with me. Let us go. "

Late in the afternoon though it was, after our return, Kennedyinsisted on hurrying from Verplanck's to the Yacht Club up thebay. It was a large building, extending out into the water on madeland, from which ran a long, substantial dock. He had stopped longenough only to ask Verplanck to lend him the services of his bestmechanician, a Frenchman named Armand. 

On the end of the yacht club dock Kennedy and Armand set up alarge affair which looked like a mortar. I watched curiously, dividing my attention between them and the splendid view of theharbor which the end of the dock commanded on all sides. 

"What is this?" I asked finally. "Fireworks?"

"A rocket mortar of light weight, " explained Kennedy, then droppedinto French as he explained to Armand the manipulation of thething. 

There was a searchlight near by on the dock. 

"You can use that?" queried Kennedy. 

"Oh, yes. Mr. Verplanck, he is vice-commodore of the club. Oh, yes, I can use that. Why, Monsieur?"

Kennedy had uncovered a round brass case. It did not seem toamount to much, as compared to some of the complicated apparatushe had used. In it was a four-sided prism of glass--I should havesaid, cut off the corner of a huge glass cube. 

He handed it to us. 

"Look in it, " he said. 

It certainly was about the most curious piece of crystal gazing Ihad ever done. Turn the thing any way I pleased and I could see myface in it, just as in an ordinary mirror. 

"What do you call it?" Armand asked, much interested. 

"A triple mirror, " replied Kennedy, and again, half in English andhalf in French, neither of which I could follow, he explained theuse of the mirror to the mechanician. 

We were returning up the dock, leaving Armand with instructions tobe at the club at dusk, when we met McNeill, tired and disgusted. 

"What luck?" asked Kennedy. 

"Nothing, " he returned. "I had a 'short' shadow and a 'long'shadow at Wickham's heels all day. You know what I mean. Insteadof one man, two--the second sleuthing in the other's tracks. If heescaped Number One, Number Two would take it up, and I was readyto move up into Number Two's place. They kept him in sight aboutall the time. Not a fact. But then, of course, we don't know whathe was doing before we took up tailing him. Say, " he added, "Ihave just got word from an agency with which I correspond in NewYork that it is reported that a yeggman named 'Australia Mac, ' avery daring and clever chap, has been attempting to dispose ofsome of the goods which we know have been stolen through one ofthe worst 'fences' in New York. "

"Is that all?" asked Craig, with the mention of Australia Macshowing the first real interest yet in anything that McNeill haddone since we met him the night before. 

"All so far. I wired for more details immediately. "

"Do you know anything about this Australia Mac?"

"Not much. No one does. He's a new man, it seems, to the policehere. "

"Be here at eight o'clock, McNeill, " said Craig, as we left theclub for Verplanck's. "If you can find out more about thisyeggman, so much the better. "

"Have you made any progress?" asked Verplanck as we entered theestate a few minutes later. 

"Yes, " returned Craig, telling only enough to whet his interest. "There's a clue, as I half expected, from New York, too. But weare so far away that we'll have to stick to my original plan. Youcan trust Armand?"

"Absolutely. "

"Then we shall transfer our activity to the Yacht Club to-night, "was all that Kennedy vouchsafed. 

CHAPTER VI

THE TRIPLE MIRROR

It was the regular Saturday night dance at the club, a brilliantspectacle, faces that radiated pleasure, gowns that for startlingcombinations of color would have shamed a Futurist, music that setthe feet tapping irresistibly--a scene which I shall pass overbecause it really has no part in the story. 

The fascination of the ballroom was utterly lost on Craig. "Thinkof all the houses only half guarded about here to-night, " hemused, as we joined Armand and McNeill on the end of the dock. Icould not help noting that that was the only idea which the gay, variegated, sparkling tango throng conveyed to him. 

In front of the club was strung out a long line of cars, and atthe dock several speed boats of national and internationalreputation, among them the famous Streamline II, at our instantbeck and call. In it Craig had already placed some rather bulkypieces of apparatus, as well as a brass case containing a secondtriple mirror like that which he had left with Armand. 

With McNeill, I walked back along the pier, leaving Kennedy withArmand, until we came to the wide porch, where we joined thewallflowers and the rocking-chair fleet. Mrs. Verplanck, Iobserved, was a beautiful dancer. I picked her out in the throngimmediately, dancing with Carter. 

McNeill tugged at my sleeve. Without a word I saw what he meant meto see. Verplanck and Mrs. Hollingsworth were dancing together. Just then, across the porch I caught sight of Kennedy at one ofthe wide windows. He was trying to attract Verplanck's attention, and as he did so I worked my way through the throng of chattingcouples leaving the floor until I reached him. Verplanck, oblivious, finished the dance; then, seeming to recollect that hehad something to attend to, caught sight of us, and ran off duringthe intermission from the gay crowd to which he resigned Mrs. Hollingsworth. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"There's that light down the bay, " whispered Kennedy. 

Instantly Verplanck forgot about the dance. 

"Where?" he asked. 

"In the same place. "

I had not noticed, but Mrs. Verplanck, woman-like, had been ableto watch several things at once. She had seen us and had joinedus. 

"Would you like to run down there in the Streamline?" he asked. "It will only take a few minutes. "

"Very much. "

"What is it--that light again?" she asked, as she joined us inwalking down the dock. 

"Yes, " answered her husband, pausing to look for a moment at thestuff Kennedy had left with Armand. Mrs. Verplanck leaned over theStreamline, turned as she saw me, and said: "I wish I could gowith you. But evening dress is not the thing for a shivery nightin a speed boat. I think I know as much about it as Mr. Verplanck. Are you going to leave Armand?"

"Yes, " replied Kennedy, taking his place beside Verplanck, who wasseated at the steering wheel. "Walter and McNeill, if you two willsit back there, we're ready. All right. "

Armand had cast us off and Mrs. Verplanck waved from the end ofthe float as the Streamline quickly shot out into the night, abuzzing, throbbing shape of mahogany and brass, with her exhaustssticking out like funnels and booming like a pipe organ. It tookher only seconds to eat into the miles. 

"A little more to port, " said Kennedy, as Verplanck swung heraround. 

Just then the steady droning of the engine seemed a bit lessrhythmical. Verplanck throttled her down, but it had no effect. Heshut her off. Something was wrong. As he crawled out into thespace forward of us where the engine was, it seemed as if theStreamline had broken down suddenly and completely. 

Here we were floundering around in the middle of the bay. 

"Chuck-chuck-chuck, " came in quick staccato out of the night. Itwas Montgomery Carter, alone, on his way across the bay from theclub, in his own boat. 

"Hello--Carter, " called Verplanck. 

"Hello, Verplanck. What's the matter?"

"Don't know. Engine trouble of some kind. Can you give us a line?"

"I've got to go down to the house, " he said, ranging up near us. "Then I can take you back. Perhaps I'd better get you out of theway of any other boats first. You don't mind going over and thenback?"

Verplanck looked at Craig. "On the contrary, " muttered Craig, ashe made fast the welcome line. 

The Carter dock was some three miles from the club on the otherside of the bay. As we came up to it, Carter shut off his engine, bent over it a moment, made fast, and left us with a hurried, "Wait here. "

Suddenly, overhead, we heard a peculiar whirring noise that seemedto vibrate through the air. Something huge, black, monster-like, slid down a board runway into the water, traveled a few feet, inwhite suds and spray, rose in the darkness--and was gone!

As the thing disappeared, I thought I could hear a mocking laughflung back at us. 

"What is it?" I asked, straining my eyes at what had seemed for aninstant like a great flying fish with finny tail and huge fins atthe sides and above. 

"'Aquaero, '" quoted Kennedy quickly. "Don't you understand--ahydroaeroplane--a flying boat. There are hundreds of privatelyowned flying boats now wherever there is navigable water. That wasthe secret of Carter's boathouse, of the light we saw in the air. "

"But this Aquaero--who is he?" persisted McNeill. "Carter--Wickham--Australia Mac?"

We looked at each other blankly. No one said a word. We werecaptured, just as effectively as if we were ironed in a dungeon. There were the black water, the distant lights, which at any othertime I should have said would have been beautiful. 

Kennedy had sprung into Carter's boat. 

"The deuce, " he exclaimed. "He's put her out of business. "

Verplanck, chagrined, had been going over his own enginefeverishly. "Do you see that?" he asked suddenly, holding up inthe light of a lantern a little nut which he had picked out of thecomplicated machinery. "It never belonged to this engine. Some oneplaced it there, knowing it would work its way into a vital partwith the vibration. "

Who was the person, the only one who could have done it? Theanswer was on my lips, but I repressed it. Mrs. Verplanck herselfhad been bending over the engine when last I saw her. All at onceit flashed over me that she knew more about the phantom banditthan she had admitted. Yet what possible object could she have hadin putting the Streamline out of commission?

My mind was working rapidly, piecing together the fragmentaryfacts. The remark of Kennedy, long before, instantly assumed newsignificance. What were the possibilities of blackmail in theright sort of evidence? The yeggman had been after what was morevaluable than jewels--letters! Whose? Suddenly I saw thesituation. Carter had not been robbed at all. He was in leaguewith the robber. That much was a blind to divert suspicion. He wasa lawyer--some one's lawyer. I recalled the message about lettersand evidence, and as I did so there came to mind a picture ofCarter and the woman he had been dancing with. In return for hisinside information about the jewels of the wealthy homes ofBluffwood, the yeggman was to get something of interest andimportance to his client. 

The situation called for instant action. Yet what could we do, marooned on the other side of the bay?

From the Club dock a long finger of light swept out into thenight, plainly enough near the dock, but diffused and disclosingnothing in the distance. Armand had trained it down the bay in thedirection we had taken, but by the time the beam reached us it wasso weak that it was lost. 

Craig had leaped up on the Carter dock and was capping anduncapping with the brass cover the package which contained thetriple mirror. 

Still in the distance I could see the wide path of light, aimedtoward us, but of no avail. 

"What are you doing?" I asked. 

"Using the triple mirror to signal to Armand. It is somethingbetter than wireless. Wireless requires heavy and complicatedapparatus. This is portable, heatless, almost weightless, a sourceof light depending for its power on another source of light at agreat distance. "

I wondered how Armand could ever detect its feeble ray. 

"Even in the case of a rolling ship, " Kennedy continued, alternately covering and uncovering the mirror, "the beam of lightwhich this mirror reflects always goes back, unerring, to itssource. It would do so from an aeroplane, so high in the air thatit could not be located. The returning beam is invisible to anyonenot immediately in the path of the ray, and the ray always goes tothe observer. It is simply a matter of pure mathematicspractically applied. The angle of incidence equals the angle ofreflection. There is not a variation of a foot in two miles. "

"What message are you sending him?" asked Verplanck. 

"To tell Mrs. Hollingsworth to hurry home immediately, " Kennedyreplied, still flashing the letters according to his code. 

"Mrs. Hollingsworth?" repeated Verplanck, looking up. 

"Yes. This hydroaeroplane yeggman is after something besidesjewels to-night. Were those letters that were stolen from you theonly ones you had in the safe?"

Verplanck looked up quickly. "Yes, yes. Of course. "

"You had none from a woman--"

"No, " he almost shouted. Of a sudden it seemed to dawn on him whatKennedy was driving at--the robbery of his own house with no lossexcept of a packet of letters on business, followed by the attempton Mrs. Hollingsworth. "Do you think I'd keep dynamite, even inthe safe?"

To hide his confusion he had turned and was bending again over theengine. 

"How is it?" asked Kennedy, his signaling over. 

"Able to run on four cylinders and one propeller, " repliedVerplanck. 

"Then let's try her. Watch the engine. I'll take the wheel. "

Limping along, the engine skipping and missing, the once peerlessStreamline started back across the bay. Instead of heading towardthe club, Kennedy pointed her bow somewhere between that andVerplanck's. 

"I wish Armand would get busy, " he remarked, after glancing nowand then in the direction of the club. "What can be the matter?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. 

There came the boom as if of a gun far away in the direction inwhich he was looking, then another. 

"Oh, there it is. Good fellow. I suppose he had to deliver mymessage to Mrs. Hollingsworth himself first. "

From every quarter showed huge balls of fire, rising from the sea, as it were, with a brilliantly luminous flame. 

"What is it?" I asked, somewhat startled. 

"A German invention for use at night against torpedo and aeroplaneattacks. From that mortar Armand has shot half a dozen bombs ofphosphide of calcium which are hurled far into the darkness. Theyare so constructed that they float after a short plunge and areignited on contact by the action of the salt water itself. "

It was a beautiful pyrotechnic display, lighting up the shore andhills of the bay as if by an unearthly flare. 

"There's that thing now!" exclaimed Kennedy. 

In the glow we could see a peculiar, birdlike figure flyingthrough the air over toward the Hollingsworth house. It was thehydroaeroplane. 

Out from the little stretch of lawn under the accentuated shadowof the trees, she streaked into the air, swaying from side to sideas the pilot operated the stabilizers on the ends of the planes tocounteract the puffs of wind off the land. 

How could she ever be stopped?

The Streamline, halting and limping, though she was, had almostcrossed the bay before the light bombs had been fired by Armand. Every moment brought the flying boat nearer. 

She swerved. Evidently the pilot had seen us at last and realizedwho we were. I was so engrossed watching the thing that I had notnoticed that Kennedy had given the wheel to Verplanck and wasstanding in the bow, endeavoring to sight what looked like a hugegun. 

In rapid succession half a dozen shots rang out. I fancied I couldalmost hear the ripping and tearing of the tough rubber-coatedsilken wings of the hydroaeroplane as the wind widened theperforation the gun had made. 

She had not been flying high, but now she swooped down almost likea gull, seeking to rest on the water. We were headed toward hernow, and as the flying boat sank I saw one of the passengers risein his seat, swing his arm, and far out something splashed in thebay. 

On the water, with wings helpless, the flying boat was no matchfor the Streamline now. She struck at an acute angle, rebounded inthe air for a moment, and with a hiss skittered along over thewaves, planing with the help of her exhaust under the step of theboat. 

There she was, a hull, narrow, scow-bowed, like a hydroplane, witha long pointed stern and a cockpit for two men, near the bow. There were two wide, winglike planes, on a light latticework ofwood covered with silk, trussed and wired like a kite frame, theupper plane about five feet above the lower, which was level withthe boat deck. We could see the eight-cylindered engine whichdrove a two-bladed wooden propeller, and over the stern were theair rudder and the horizontal planes. There she was, the hobbledsteed now of the phantom bandit who had accomplished the seeminglyimpossible. 

In spite of everything, however, the flying boat reached the shorea trifle ahead of us. As she did so both figures in her jumped, and one disappeared quickly up the bank, leaving the other alone. 

"Verplanck, McNeill--get him, " cried Kennedy, as our own boatgrated on the beach. "Come, Walter, we'll take the other one. "

The man had seen that there was no safety in flight. Down theshore he stood, without a hat, his hair blown pompadour by thewind. 

As we approached Carter turned superciliously, unbuttoning hisbulky khaki life preserver jacket. 

"Well?" he asked coolly. 

Not for a moment did Kennedy allow the assumed coolness to takehim back, knowing that Carter's delay did not cover the retreat ofthe other man. 

"So, " Craig exclaimed, "you are the--the air pirate?"

Carter disdained to reply. 

"It was you who suggested the millionaire households, full ofjewels, silver and gold, only half guarded; you, who knew thehabits of the people; you, who traded that information in returnfor another piece of thievery by your partner, Australia Mac--Wickham he called himself here in Bluffwood. It was you---"

A car drove up hastily, and I noted that we were still on theHollingsworth estate. Mrs. Hollingsworth had seen us and haddriven over toward us. 

"Montgomery!" she cried, startled. 

"Yes, " said Kennedy quickly, "air pirate and lawyer for Mrs. Verplanck in the suit which she contemplated bringing--"

Mrs. Hollingsworth grew pale under the ghastly, flickering lightfrom the bay. 

"Oh!" she cried, realizing at what Kennedy hinted, "the letters!"

"At the bottom of the harbor, now, " said Kennedy. "Mr. Verplancktells me he has destroyed his. The past is blotted out as far asthat is concerned. The future is--for you three to determine. Forthe present I've caught a yeggman and a blackmailer. "

CHAPTER VII

THE WIRELESS WIRETAPPERS

Kennedy did not wait at Bluffwood longer than was necessary. Itwas easy enough now to silence Montgomery Carter, and thereconciliation of the Verplancks was assured. In the Star I madethe case appear at the time to involve merely the capture ofAustralia Mac. 

When I dropped into the office the next day as usual, I found thatI had another assignment that would take me out on Long Island. The story looked promising and I was rather pleased to get it. 

"Bound for Seaville, I'll wager, " sounded a familiar voice in myear, as I hurried up to the train entrance at the Long Islandcorner of the Pennsylvania Station. 

I turned quickly, to find Kennedy just behind me, breathless andperspiring. 

"Er--yes, " I stammered in surprise at seeing him so unexpectedly, "but where did you come from? How did you know?"

"Let me introduce Mr. Jack Waldon, " he went on, as we edged ourway toward the gate, "the brother of Mrs. Tracy Edwards, whodisappeared so strangely from the houseboat Lucie last night atSeaville. That is the case you're going to write up, isn't it?"

It was then for the first time that I noticed the excited youngman beside Kennedy was really his companion. 

I shook hands with Waldon, who gave me a grip that was both agreeting and an added impulse in our general direction through thewicket. 

"Might have known the Star would assign you to this Edwards case, "panted Kennedy, mopping his forehead, for the heat in the terminalwas oppressive and the crowd, though not large, was closelypacked. "Mr. Jameson is my right-hand man, " he explained toWaldon, taking us each by the arm and urging us forward. "Waldonwas afraid we might miss the train or I should have tried to getyou, Walter, at the office. "

It was all done so suddenly that they quite took away whatremaining breath I had, as we settled ourselves to swelter in thesmoker instead of in the concourse. I did not even protest at thematter-of-fact assurance with which Craig assumed that hisdeduction as to my destination was correct. 

Waldon, a handsome young fellow in a flannel suit and yachting capsomewhat the worse for his evidently perturbed state of mind, seemed to eye me for the moment doubtfully, in spite of Kennedy'scordial greeting. 

"I've had all the first editions of the evening papers, " I hintedas we sped through the tunnel, "but the stories seemed to be quitethe same--pretty meager in details. "

"Yes, " returned Waldon with a glance at Kennedy, "I tried to keepas much out of the papers as I could just now for Lucie's sake. "

"You needn't fear Jameson, " remarked Kennedy. 

He fumbled in his pocket, then paused a moment and shot a glanceof inquiry at Waldon, who nodded a mute acquiescence to him. 

"There seem to have been a number of very peculiar disappearanceslately, " resumed Kennedy, "but this case of Mrs. Edwards is by farthe most extraordinary. Of course the Star hasn't had that--yet, "he concluded, handing me a sheet of notepaper. 

"Mr. Waldon didn't give it out, hoping to avoid scandal. "

I took the paper and read eagerly, in a woman's hand:

"MY DEAR MISS FOX: I have been down here at Seaville on ourhouseboat, the Lucie, for several days for a purpose which now isaccomplished. 

"Already I had my suspicions of you, from a source which I neednot name. Therefore, when the Kronprinz got into wirelesscommunication with the station at Seaville I determined throughour own wireless on the Lucie to overhear whether there would beany exchange of messages between my husband and yourself. 

"I was able to overhear the whole thing and I want you to knowthat your secret is no longer a secret from me, and that I havealready told Mr. Edwards that I know it. You ruin his life by yourintimacy which you seem to want to keep up, although you know youhave no right to do it, but you shall not ruin mine. 

"I am thoroughly disillusioned now. I have not decided on whatsteps to take, but--"

Only a casual glance was necessary to show me that the writingseemed to grow more and more weak as it progressed, and the notestopped abruptly, as if the writer had been suddenly interruptedor some new idea had occurred to her. 

Hastily I tried to figure it out. Lucie Waldon, as everybody knew, was a famous beauty, a marvel of charm and daintiness, slender, with big, soulful, wistful eyes. Her marriage to Tracy Edwards, the wealthy plunger and stockbroker, had been a great social eventthe year before, and it was reputed at the time that Edwards hadshowered her with jewels and dresses to the wonder and talk evenof society. 

As for Valerie Fox, I knew she had won quick recognition and evenfame as a dancer in New York during the previous winter, and Irecalled reading three or four days before that she had justreturned on the Kronprinz from a trip abroad. 

"I don't suppose you have had time to see Miss Fox, " I remarked. "Where is she?"

"At Beach Park now, I think, " replied Waldon, "a resort a fewmiles nearer the city on the south shore, where there is a largecolony of actors. "

I handed back the letter to Kennedy. 

"What do you make of it?" he asked, as he folded it up and put itback into his pocket. 

"I hardly know what to say, " I replied. "Of course there have beenrumors, I believe, that all was not exactly like a honeymoon stillwith the Tracy Edwardses. "

"Yes, " returned Waldon slowly, "I know myself that there has beensome trouble, but nothing definite until I found this letter lastnight in my sister's room. She never said anything about it eitherto mother or myself. They haven't been much together during thesummer, and last night when she disappeared Tracy was in the city. But I hadn't thought much about it before, for, of course, youknow he has large financial interests that make him keep in prettyclose touch with New York and this summer hasn't been aparticularly good one on the stock exchange. "

"And, " I put in, "a plunger doesn't always make the best ofhusbands. Perhaps there is temperament to be reckoned with here. "

"There seem to be a good many things to be reckoned with, " Craigconsidered. "For example, here's a houseboat, the Lucie, apalatial affair, cruising about aimlessly, with a beautiful womanon it. She gives a little party, in the absence of her husband, toher brother, his fiancee and her mother, who visit her from hisyacht, the Nautilus. They break up, those living on the Luciegoing to their rooms and the rest back to the yacht, which isanchored out further in the deeper water of the bay. 

"Some time in the middle of the night her maid, Juanita, findsthat she is not in her room. Her brother is summoned back from hisyacht and finds that she has left this pathetic, unfinishedletter. But otherwise there is no trace of her. Her husband isnotified and hurries out there, but he can find no clue. Meanwhile, Mr. Waldon, in despair, hurries down to the city toengage me quietly. "

"You remember I told you, " suggested Waldon, "that my sisterhadn't been feeling well for several days. In fact it seemed thatthe sea air wasn't doing her much good, and some one last nightsuggested that she try the mountains. "

"Had there been anything that would foreshadow the--er--disappearance?" asked Kennedy. 

"Only as I say, that for two or three days she seemed to belistless, to be sinking by slow and easy stages into a sort ofvacant, moody state of ill health. "

"She had a doctor, I suppose?" I asked. 

"Yes, Dr. Jermyn, Tracy's own personal physician came down fromthe city several days ago. "

"What did he say?"

"He simply said that it was congestion of the lungs. As far as hecould see there was no apparent cause for it. I don't think he wasvery enthusiastic about the mountain air idea. The fact is he waslike a good many doctors under the circumstances, noncommittal--wanted her under observation, and all that sort of thing. "

"What's your opinion?" I pressed Craig. "Do you think she has runaway?"

"Naturally, I'd rather not attempt to say yet, " Craig repliedcautiously. "But there are several possibilities. Yes, she mighthave left the houseboat in some other boat, of course. Then thereis the possibility of accident. It was a hot night. She might havebeen leaning from the window and have lost her balance. I haveeven thought of drugs, that she might have taken something in herdespondency and have fallen overboard while under the influence ofit. Then, of course, there are the two deductions that everyonehas made already--either suicide or murder. "

Waldon had evidently been turning something over in his mind. 

"There was a wireless outfit aboard the houseboat, " he ventured atlength. 

"What of that?" I asked, wondering why he was changing the subjectso abruptly. 

"Why, only this, " he replied. "I have been reading about wirelessa good deal lately, and if the theories of some scientists arecorrect, the wireless age is not without its dangers as well asits wonders. I recall reading not long ago of a German professorwho says there is no essential difference between wireless wavesand the X-rays, and we know the terrible physical effects of X-rays. I believe he estimated that only one three hundred millionthpart of the electrical energy generated by sending a message fromone station to another near by is actually used up in transmittingthe message. The rest is dispersed in the atmosphere. There mustbe a good deal of such stray electrical energy about Seaville. Isn't it possible that it might hit some one somewhere who wassusceptible?"

Kennedy said nothing. Waldon's was at least a novel idea, whetherit was plausible or not. The only way to test it out, as far as Icould determine, was to see whether it fitted with the facts aftera careful investigation of the case itself. 

It was still early in the day and the trains were not as crowdedas they would be later. Consequently our journey was comfortableenough and we found ourselves at last at the little vine-coveredstation at Seaville. 

One could almost feel that the gay summer colony was in a state ofsubdued excitement. As we left the quaint station and walked downthe main street to the town wharf where we expected some one wouldbe waiting for us, it seemed as if the mysterious disappearance ofthe beautiful Mrs. Edwards had put a damper on the life of theplace. In the hotels there were knots of people evidentlydiscussing the affair, for as we passed we could tell by theirfaces that they recognized us. One or two bowed and would havejoined us, if Waldon had given any encouragement. But he did notstop, and we kept on down the street quickly. 

I myself began to feel the spell of mystery about the case as Ihad not felt it among the distractions of the city. Perhaps Iimagined it, but there even seemed to be something strange aboutthe houseboat which we could descry at anchor far down the bay aswe approached the wharf. 

We were met, as Waldon had arranged, by a high-powered runabout, the tender to his own yacht, a slim little craft of mahogany andbrass, driven like an automobile, and capable of perhaps twenty-five or thirty miles an hour. We jumped in and were soon skimmingover the waters of the bay like a skipping stone. 

It was evident that Waldon was much relieved at having been ableto bring assistance, in which he had as much confidence as hereposed in Kennedy. At any rate it was something to be nearing thescene of action again. 

The Lucie was perhaps seventy feet long and a most attractivecraft, with a hull yachty in appearance and of a type which couldsafely make long runs along the coast, a stanch, seaworthy boat, of course without the speed of the regularly designed yacht, butmore than making up in comfort for those on board what was lost inthat way. Waldon pointed out with obvious pride his own trim yachtswinging gracefully at anchor a half mile or so away. 

As we approached the houseboat I looked her over carefully. One ofthe first things I noticed was that there rose from the roof theprimitive inverted V aerial of a wireless telegraph. I thoughtimmediately of the unfinished letter and its contents, and shadedmy eyes as I took a good look at the powerful transatlanticstation on the spit of sand perhaps three or four miles distant, with its tall steel masts of the latest inverted L type and thecluster of little houses below, in which the operators and theplant were. 

Waldon noticed what I was looking at, and remarked, "It's awonderful station--and well worth a visit, if you have the time--one of the most powerful on the coast, I understand. "

"How did the Lucie come to be equipped with wireless?" asked Craigquickly. "It's a little unusual for a private boat. "

"Mr. Edwards had it done when she was built, " explained Waldon. "His idea was to use it to keep in touch with the stock market ontrips. "

"And it has proved effective?" asked Craig. 

"Oh, yes--that is, it was all right last winter when he went on ashort cruise down in Florida. This summer he hasn't been on theboat long enough to use it much. "

"Who operates it?"

"He used to hire a licensed operator, although I believe theengineer, Pedersen, understands the thing pretty well and coulduse it if necessary. "

"Do you think it was Pedersen who used it for Mrs. Edwards?" askedKennedy. 

"I really don't know, " confessed Waldon. "Pedersen deniesabsolutely that he has touched the thing for weeks. I want you toquiz him. I wasn't able to get him to admit a thing. "

CHAPTER VIII

THE HOUSEBOAT MYSTERY

We had by this time swung around to the side of the houseboat. Irealized as we mounted the ladder that the marine gasoline enginehad materially changed the old-time houseboat from a mere scow orbarge with a low flat house on it, moored in a bay or river, andonly with difficulty and expense towed from one place to another. Now the houseboat was really a fair-sized yacht. 

The Lucie was built high in order to give plenty of accommodationfor the living quarters. The staterooms, dining rooms and saloonwere really rooms, with seven or eight feet of head room, andfurnished just as one would find in a tasteful and expensivehouse. 

Down in the hull, of course, was the gasoline motor which drovethe propeller, so that when the owner wanted a change of scene allthat was necessary was to get up anchor, start the motor andnavigate the yacht-houseboat to some other harbor. 

Edwards himself met us on the deck. He was a tall man, with a redface, a man of action, of outdoor life, apparently a hard workerand a hard player. It was quite evident that he had been waitingfor the return of Waldon anxiously. 

"You find us considerably upset, Professor Kennedy, " he greetedCraig, as his brother-in-law introduced us. 

Edwards turned and led the way toward the saloon. As he enteredand bade us be seated in the costly cushioned wicker chairs Inoticed how sumptuously it was furnished, and particularly itsmechanical piano, its phonograph and the splendid hardwood floorwhich seemed to invite one to dance in the cool breeze thatfloated across from one set of open windows to the other. And yetin spite of everything, there was that indefinable air ofsomething lacking, as in a house from which the woman is gone, "You were not here last night, I understand, " remarked Kennedy, taking in the room at a glance. 

"Unfortunately, no, " replied Edwards, "Business has kept me withmy nose pretty close to the grindstone this summer. Waldon calledme up in the middle of the night, however, and I started down inmy car, which enabled me to get here before the first train. Ihaven't been able to do a thing since I got here except just wait--wait--wait. I confess that I don't know what else to do. Waldonseemed to think we ought to have some one down here--and I guesshe was right. Anyhow, I'm glad to see you. "

I watched Edwards keenly. For the first time I realized that I hadneglected to ask Waldon whether he had seen the unfinished letter. The question was unnecessary. It was evident that he had not. 

"Let me see, Waldon, if I've got this thing straight, " Edwardswent on, pacing restlessly up and down the saloon. "Correct me ifI haven't. Last night, as I understand it, there was a sort oflittle family party here, you and Miss Verrall and your motherfrom the Nautilus, and Mrs. Edwards and Dr. Jermyn. "

"Yes, " replied Waldon with, I thought, a touch of defiance at thewords "family party. " He paused as if he would have added that theNautilus would have been more congenial, anyhow, then added, "Wedanced a little bit, all except Lucie. She said she wasn't feelingany too well. "

Edwards had paused by the door. "If you'll excuse me a minute, " hesaid, "I'll call Jermyn and Mrs. Edwards' maid, Juanita. You oughtto go over the whole thing immediately, Professor Kennedy. "

"Why didn't you say anything about the letter to him?" askedKennedy under his breath. 

"What was the use?" returned Waldon. "I didn't know how he'd takeit. Besides, I wanted your advice on the whole thing. Do you wantto show it to him?"

"Perhaps it's just as well, " ruminated Kennedy. "It may bepossible to clear the thing up without involving anybody's name. At any rate, some one is coming down the passage this way. "

Edwards entered with Dr. Jermyn, a clean-shaven man, youthful inappearance, yet approaching middle age. I had heard of him before. He had studied several years abroad and had gained considerablereputation since his return to America. 

Dr. Jermyn shook hands with us cordially enough, made some passingcomment on the tragedy, and stood evidently waiting for us todisclose our hands. 

"You have been Mrs. Edwards' physician for some time, I believe?"queried Kennedy, fencing for an opening. 

"Only since her marriage, " replied the doctor briefly. 

"She hadn't been feeling well for several days, had she?" venturedKennedy again. 

"No, " replied Dr. Jermyn quickly. "I doubt whether I can add muchto what you already know. I suppose Mr. Waldon has told you abouther illness. The fact is, I suppose her maid Juanita will be ableto tell you really more than I can. "

I could not help feeling that Dr. Jermyn showed a great deal ofreluctance in talking. 

"You have been with her several days, though, haven't you?"

"Four days, I think. She was complaining of feeling nervous andtelegraphed me to come down here. I came prepared to stay overnight, but Mr. Edwards happened to run down that day, too, and heasked me if I wouldn't remain longer. My practice in the summer issuch that I can easily leave it with my assistant in the city, soI agreed. Really, that is about all I can say. I don't know yetwhat was the matter with Mrs. Edwards, aside from the nervousnesswhich seemed to be of some time standing. "

He stood facing us, thoughtfully stroking his chin, as a verypretty and petite maid nervously entered and stood facing us inthe doorway. 

"Come in, Juanita, " encouraged Edwards. "I want you to tell thesegentlemen just what you told me about discovering that Madame hadgone--and anything else that you may recall now. "

"It was Juanita who discovered that Madame was gone, you know, "put in Waldon. 

"How did you discover it?" prompted Craig. 

"It was very hot, " replied the maid, "and often on hot nights Iwould come in and fan Madame since she was so wakeful. Last nightI went to the door and knocked. There was no reply. I called toher, 'Madame, madame. ' Still there was no answer. The worst Isupposed was that she had fainted. I continued to call. "

"The door was locked?" inquired Kennedy. 

"Yes, sir. My call aroused the others on the boat. Dr. Jermyn cameand he broke open the door with his shoulder. But the room wasempty. Madame was gone. "

"How about the windows?" asked Kennedy. 

"Open. They were always open these nights. Sometimes Madame wouldsit by the window when there was not much breeze. "

"I should like to see the room, " remarked Craig, with an inquiringglance at Edwards. 

"Certainly, " he answered, leading the way down a corridor. 

Mrs. Edwards' room was on the starboard side, with wide windowsinstead of portholes. It was furnished magnificently and there waslittle about it that suggested the nautical, except the view fromthe window. 

"The bed had not been slept in, " Edwards remarked as we lookedabout curiously. 

Kennedy walked over quickly to the wide series of windows beforewhich was a leather-cushioned window seat almost level with thewindow, several feet above the level of the water. It was by thiswindow, evidently, that Juanita meant that Mrs. Edwards often sat. It was a delightful position, but I could readily see that itwould be comparatively easy for anyone accidentally or purposelyto fall. 

"I think myself, " Waldon remarked to Kennedy, "that it must havebeen from the open window that she made her way to the outside. Itseems that all agree that the door was locked, while the windowwas wide open. "

"There had been no sound--no cry to alarm you?" shot out Kennedysuddenly to Juanita. 

"No, sir, nothing. I could not sleep myself, and I thought ofMadame. "

"You heard nothing?" he asked of Dr. Jermyn. 

"Nothing until I heard the maid call, " he replied briefly. 

Mentally I ran over again Kennedy's first list of possibilities--taken off by another boat, accident, drugs, suicide, murder. 

Was there, I asked myself, sufficient reason for suicide? Theletter seemed to me to show too proud a spirit for that. In factthe last sentence seemed to show that she was contemplating thesurest method of revenge, rather than surrender. As for accident, why should a person fall overboard from a large houseboat into aperfectly calm harbor? Then, too, there had been no outcry. Somehow, I could not seem to fit any of the theories in with thefacts. Evidently it was like many another case, one in which we, as yet, had insufficient data for a conclusion. 

Suddenly I recalled the theory that Waldon himself had advancedregarding the wireless, either from the boat itself or from thewireless station. For the moment, at least, it seemed plausiblethat she might have been seated at the window, that she might havebeen affected by escaped wireless, or by electrolysis. I knew thatsome physicians had described a disease which they attributed towireless, a sort of anemia with a marked diminution in the numberof red corpuscles in the blood, due partly to the overetherization of the air by reason of the alternating currents usedto generate the waves. 

"I should like now to inspect the little wireless plant you havehere on the Lucie, " remarked Kennedy. "I noticed the mast as wewere approaching a few minutes ago. "

I had turned at the sound of his voice in time to catch Edwardsand Dr. Jermyn eyeing each other furtively. Did they know aboutthe letter, after all, I wondered? Was each in doubt about justhow much the other knew?

There was no time to pursue these speculations. "Certainly, "agreed Mr. Edwards promptly, leading the way. 

Kennedy seemed keenly interested in inspecting the little wirelessplant, which was of a curious type and not exactly like any that Ihad seen before. 

"Wireless apparatus, " he remarked, as he looked it over, "isdivided into three parts, the source of power whether battery ordynamo, the making and sending of wireless waves, including thekey, spark, condenser and tuning coil, and the receivingapparatus, head telephones, antennae, ground and detector. "

Pedersen, the engineer, came in while we were looking the plantover, but seemed uncommunicative to all Kennedy's efforts toengage him in conversation. 

"I see, " remarked Kennedy, "that it is a very compact system withfacilities for a quick change from one wave length to another. "

"Yes, " grunted Pedersen, as averse to talking, evidently, asothers on the Lucie. 

"Spark gap, quenched type, " I heard Kennedy mutter almost tohimself, with a view to showing Pedersen that he knew somethingabout it. "Break system relay--operator can overhear anyinterference while transmitting--transformation by a single throwof a six-point switch which tunes the oscillating and opencircuits to resonance. Very clever--very efficient. By the way, Pedersen, are you the only person aboard who can operate this?"

"How should I know?" he answered almost surlily. 

"You ought to know, if anybody, " answered Kennedy unruffled. "Iknow that it has been operated within the past few days. "

Pedersen shrugged his shoulders. "You might ask the othersaboard, " was all he said. "Mr. Edwards pays me to operate it onlyfor himself, when he has no other operator. "

Kennedy did not pursue the subject, evidently from fear of sayingtoo much just at present. 

"I wonder if there is anyone else who could have operated it, "said Waldon, as we mounted again to the deck. 

"I don't know, " replied Kennedy, pausing on the way up. "Youhaven't a wireless on the Nautilus, have you?"

Waldon shook his head. "Never had any particular use for itmyself, " he answered. 

"You say that Miss Verrall and her mother have gone back to thecity?" pursued Kennedy, taking care that as before the others wereout of earshot. 

"Yes. "

"I'd like to stay with you tonight, then, " decided Kennedy. "Mightwe go over with you now? There doesn't seem to be anything more Ican do here, unless we get some news about Mrs. Edwards. "

Waldon seemed only too glad to agree, and no one on the Lucieinsisted on our staying. 

We arrived at the Nautilus a few minutes later, and while we werelunching Kennedy dispatched the tender to the Marconi station witha note. 

It was early in the afternoon when the tender returned withseveral packages and coils of wire. Kennedy immediately set towork on the Nautilus stretching out some of the wire. 

"What is it you are planning?" asked Waldon, to whom every actionof Kennedy seemed to be a mystery of the highest interest. 

"Improvising my own wireless, " he replied, not averse to talkingto the young man to whom he seemed to have taken a fancy. "Forshort distances, you know, it isn't necessary to construct anaerial pole or even to use outside wires to receive messages. Allthat is needed is to use just a few wires stretched inside a room. The rest is just the apparatus. "

I was quite as much interested as Waldon. "In wireless, " he wenton, "the signals are not sent in one direction, but in all, sothat a person within range of the ethereal disturbance can getthem if only he has the necessary receiving apparatus. Thisapparatus need not be so elaborate and expensive as used to bethought needful if a sensitive detector is employed, and I havesent over to the station for a new piece of apparatus which I knewthey had in almost any Marconi station. Why, I've got wirelesssignals using only twelve feet of number eighteen copper wirestretched across a room and grounded with a water pipe. You mighteven use a wire mattress on an iron bedstead. "

"Can't they find out by--er, interference?" I asked, repeating theterm I had so often heard. 

Kennedy laughed. "No, not for radio apparatus which merelyreceives radiograms and is not equipped for sending. I am settingup only one side of a wireless outfit here. All I want to do is tohear what is being said. I don't care about saying anything. "

He unwrapped another package which had been loaned to him by theradio station and we watched him curiously as he tested it and setit up. Some parts of it I recognized such as the very sensitivemicrophone, and another part I could have sworn was a phonographcylinder, though Craig was so busy testing his apparatus that nowwe could not ask questions. 

It was late in the afternoon when he finished, and we had justtime to run up to the dock at Seaville and stop off at the Lucieto see if anything had happened in the intervening hours beforedinner. There was nothing, except that I found time to file amessage to the Star and meet several fellow newspaper men who hadbeen sent down by other papers on the chance of picking up a goodstory. 

We had the Nautilus to ourselves, and as she was a verycomfortable little craft, we really had a very congenial time, aplunge over her side, a good dinner, and then a long talk out ondeck under the stars, in which we went over every phase of thecase. As we discussed it, Waldon followed keenly, and it was quiteevident from his remarks that he had come to the conclusion thatDr. Jermyn at least knew more than he had told about the case. 

Still, the day wore away with no solution yet of the mystery. 

CHAPTER IX

THE RADIO DETECTIVE

It was early the following morning when a launch drew up besidethe Nautilus. In it were Edwards and Dr. Jermyn, wildly excited. 

"What's the matter?" called out Waldon. 

"They--they have found the body, " Edwards blurted out. 

Waldon paled and clutched the rail. He had thought the world ofhis sister, and not until the last moment had he given up hopethat perhaps she might be found to have disappeared in some otherway than had become increasingly evident. 

"Where?" cried Kennedy. "Who?"

"Over on Ten Mile Beach, " answered Edwards. "Some fishermen whohad been out on a cruise and hadn't heard the story. They took thebody to town, and there it was recognized. They sent word out tous immediately. "

Waldon had already spun the engine of his tender, which was aboutthe fastest thing afloat about Seaville, had taken Edwards over, and we were off in a cloud of spray, the nose of the boat manyinches above the surface of the water. 

In the little undertaking establishment at Seaville lay the bodyof the beautiful young matron about whom so much anxiety had beenfelt. I could not help thinking what an end was this for theincomparable beauty. At the very height of her brief career thepoor little woman's life had been suddenly snuffed out. But bywhat? The body had been found, but the mystery had been far fromsolved. 

As Kennedy bent over the body, I heard him murmur to himself, "Shehad everything--everything except happiness. "

"Was it drowning that caused her death?" asked Kennedy of thelocal doctor, who also happened to be coroner and had alreadyarrived on the scene. 

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know, " he said doubtfully. "There was congestion of the lungs--but I--I can't say but whatshe might have been dead before she fell or was thrown into thewater. "

Dr. Jermyn stood on one side, now and then putting in a word, butfor the most part silent unless spoken to. Kennedy, however, wasmaking a most minute examination. 

As he turned the beautiful head, almost reverently, he sawsomething that evidently attracted his attention. I was standingnext to him and, between us, I think we cut off the view of theothers. There on the back of the neck, carefully, had been smearedsomething transparent, almost skin-like, which had easily escapedthe attention of the rest. 

Kennedy tried to pick it off, but only succeeded in pulling off avery minute piece to which the flesh seemed to adhere. 

"That's queer, " he whispered to me. "Water, naturally, has noeffect on it, else it would have been washed off long before. Walter, " he added, "just slip across the street quietly to thedrug store and get me a piece of gauze soaked with acetone. "

As quickly and unostentatiously as I could I did so and handed himthe wet cloth, contriving at the same time to add Waldon to ourbarrier, for I could see that Kennedy was anxious to be observedas little as possible. 

"What is it?" I whispered, as he rubbed the transparent skin-likestuff off, and dropped the gauze into his pocket. 

"A sort of skin varnish, " he remarked under his breath, "waterproof and so adhesive that it resists pulling off even witha knife without taking the cuticle with it. "

Beneath, as the skin varnish slowly dissolved under his gentlerubbing, he had disclosed several very small reddish spots, likelittle cuts that had been made by means of a very sharpinstrument. As he did so, he gave them a hasty glance, turned thenow stony beautiful head straight again, stood up, and resumed histalk with the coroner, who was evidently getting more and morebewildered by the case. 

Edwards, who had completed the arrangements with the undertakerfor the care of the body as soon as the coroner released it, seemed completely unnerved. 

"Jermyn, " he said to the doctor, as he turned away and hid hiseyes, "I can't stand this. The undertaker wants some stuff fromthe--er--boat, " his voice broke over the name which had been hers. "Will you get it for me? I'm going up to a hotel here, and I'llwait for you there. But I can't go out to the boat--yet. "

"I think Mr. Waldon will be glad to take you out in his tender, "suggested Kennedy. "Besides, I feel that I'd like a little freshair as a bracer, too, after such a shock. "

"What were those little cuts?" I asked as Waldon and Dr. Jermynpreceded us through the crowd outside to the pier. 

"Some one, " he answered in a low tone, "has severed thepneumogastric nerves. "

"The pneumogastric nerves?" I repeated. 

"Yes, the vagus or wandering nerve, the so-called tenth cranialnerve. Unlike the other cranial nerves, which are concerned withthe special senses or distributed to the skin and muscles of thehead and neck, the vagus, as its name implies, strays downwardinto the chest and abdomen supplying branches to the throat, lungs, heart and stomach and forms an important connecting linkbetween the brain and the sympathetic nervous system. "

We had reached the pier, and a nod from Kennedy discouragedfurther conversation on the subject. 

A few minutes later we had reached the Lucie and gone up over herside. Kennedy waited until Jermyn had disappeared into the room ofMrs. Edwards to get what the undertaker had desired. A moment andhe had passed quietly into Dr. Jermyn's own room, followed by me. Several quick glances about told him what not to waste time over, and at last his eye fell on a little portable case of medicinesand surgical instruments. He opened it quickly and took out abottle of golden yellow liquid. 

Kennedy smelled it, then quickly painted some on the back of hishand. It dried quickly, like an artificial skin. He had found abottle of skin varnish in Dr. Jermyn's own medicine chest!

We hurried back to the deck, and a few minutes later the doctorappeared with a large package. 

"Did you ever hear of coating the skin by a substance which isimpervious to water, smooth and elastic?" asked Kennedy quietly asWaldon's tender sped along back to Seaville. 

"Why--er, yes, " he said frankly, raising his eyes and looking atCraig in surprise. "There have been a dozen or more suchsubstances. The best is one which I use, made of pyroxylin, thesoluble cotton of commerce, dissolved in amyl acetate and acetonewith some other substances that make it perfectly sterile. Why doyou ask?"

"Because some one has used a little bit of it to cover a fewslight cuts on the back of the neck of Mrs. Edwards. "

"Indeed?" he said simply, in a tone of mild surprise. 

"Yes, " pursued Kennedy. "They seem to me to be subcutaneousincisions of the neck with a very fine scalpel dividing the twogreat pneumogastric nerves. Of course you know what that wouldmean--the victim would pass away naturally by slow and easy stagesin three or four days, and all that would appear might becongestion of the lungs. They are delicate little punctures andelusive nerves to locate, but after all it might be done aspainlessly, as simply and as safely as a barber might remove somedead hairs. A country coroner might easily pass over such evidenceat an autopsy--especially if it was concealed by skin varnish. "

I was surprised at the frankness with which Kennedy spoke, butabsolutely amazed at the coolness of Jermyn. At first he saidabsolutely nothing. He seemed to be as set in his reticence as hehad been when we first met. 

I watched him narrowly. Waldon, who was driving the boat, had notheard what was said, but I had, and I could not conceive howanyone could take it so calmly. 

Finally Jermyn turned to Kennedy and looked him squarely in theeye. "Kennedy, " he said slowly, "this is extraordinary--mostextraordinary, " then, pausing, added, "if true. "

"There can be no doubt of the truth, " replied Kennedy, eyeing Dr. Jermyn just as squarely. 

"What do you propose to do about it?" asked the doctor. 

"Investigate, " replied Kennedy simply. "While Waldon takes thesethings up to the undertaker's, we may as well wait here in theboat. I want him to stop on the way back for Mr. Edwards. Then weshall go out to the Lucie. He must go, whether he likes it ornot. "

It was indeed a most peculiar situation as Kennedy and I sat inthe tender with Dr. Jermyn waiting for Waldon to return withEdwards. Not a word was spoken. 

The tenseness of the situation was not relieved by the return ofWaldon with Edwards. Waldon seemed to realize without knowing justwhat it was, that something was about to happen. He drove his boatback to the Lucie again in record time. This was Kennedy's turn tobe reticent. Whatever it was he was revolving in his mind, heanswered in scarcely more than monosyllables whatever questionswere put to him. 

"You are not coming aboard?" inquired Edwards in surprise as heand Jermyn mounted the steps of the houseboat ladder, and Kennedyremained seated in the tender. 

"Not yet, " replied Craig coolly. 

"But I thought you had something to show me. Waldon told me youhad. "

"I think I shall have in a short time, " returned Kennedy. "Weshall be back immediately. I'm just going to ask Waldon to runover to the Nautilus for a few minutes. We'll tow back yourlaunch, too, in case you need it. "

Waldon had cast off obediently. 

"There's one thing sure, " I remarked. "Jermyn can't get away fromthe Lucie until we return--unless he swims. "

Kennedy did not seem to pay much attention to the remark, for hisonly reply was: "I'm taking a chance by this maneuvering, but Ithink it will work out that I am correct. By the way, Waldon, youneedn't put on so much speed. I'm in no great hurry to get back. Half an hour will be time enough. "

"Jermyn? What did you mean by Jermyn?" asked Waldon, as we climbedto the deck of the Nautilus. 

He had evidently learned, as I had, that it was little use to tryto quiz Kennedy until he was ready to be questioned and haddecided to try it on me. 

I had nothing to conceal and I told him quite fully all that Iknew. Actually, I believe if Jermyn had been there, it would havetaken both Kennedy and myself to prevent violence. As it was I hada veritable madman to deal with while Kennedy gathered upleisurely the wireless outfit he had installed on the deck ofWaldon's yacht. It was only by telling him that I would certainlydemand that Kennedy leave him behind if he did not control hisfeelings that I could calm him before Craig had finished his workon the yacht. 

Waldon relieved himself by driving the tender back at top speed tothe Lucie, and now it seemed that Kennedy had no objection totraveling as fast as the many-cylindered engine was capable ofgoing. 

As we entered the saloon of the houseboat, I kept close watch overWaldon. 

Kennedy began by slipping a record on the phonograph in the cornerof the saloon, then facing us and addressing Edwards particularly. 

"You may be interested to know, Mr. Edwards, " he said, "that yourwireless outfit here has been put to a use for which you neverintended it. "

No one said anything, but I am sure that some one in the room thenfor the first time began to suspect what was coming. 

"As you know, by the use of an aerial pole, messages may be easilyreceived from any number of stations, " continued Craig. "Laws, rules and regulations may be adopted to shut out interlopers andplug busybody ears, but the greater part of whatever istransmitted by the Hertzian waves can be snatched down by otherwireless apparatus. 

"Down below, in that little room of yours, " went on Craig, "mightsit an operator with his ear-phone clamped to his head, drinkingin the news conveyed surely and swiftly to him through thewireless signals--plucking from the sky secrets of finance and, "he added, leaning forward, "love. "

In his usual dramatic manner Kennedy had swung his little audiencecompletely with him. 

"In other words, " he resumed, "it might be used for eavesdroppingby a wireless wiretapper. Now, " he concluded, "I thought that ifthere was any radio detective work being done, I might as well dosome, too. "

He toyed for a moment with the phonograph record. "I have used, "he explained, "Marconi's radiotelephone, because in connectionwith his receivers Marconi uses phonographic recorders and on themhas captured wireless telegraph signals over hundreds of miles. 

"He has found that it is possible to receive wireless signals, although ordinary records are not loud enough, by using a smallmicrophone on the repeating diaphragm and connected with a loud-speaking telephone. The chief difficulty was to get a microphonethat would carry a sufficient current without burning up. Therewere other difficulties, but they have been surmounted and nowwireless telegraph messages may be automatically recorded and madeaudible. "

Kennedy started the phonograph, running it along, stopping it, taking up the record at a new point. 

"Listen, " he exclaimed at length, "there's something interesting, the WXY call--Seaville station--from some one on the Lucie only afew minutes ago, sending a message to be relayed by Seaville tothe station at Beach Park. It seems impossible, but buzzing andticking forth is this message from some one off this veryhouseboat. It reads: "Miss Valerie Fox, Beach Park. I am suspectedof the murder of Mrs. Edwards. I appeal to you to help me. Youmust allow me to tell the truth about the messages I interceptedfor Mrs. Edwards which passed between yourself on the ocean andMr. Edwards in New York via Seaville. You rejected me and wouldnot let me save you. Now you must save me. "

Kennedy paused, then added, "The message is signed by Dr. Jermyn!"

At once I saw it all. Jermyn had been the unsuccessful suitor forMiss Fox's affections. But before I could piece out the rest ofthe tragic story, Kennedy had started the phonograph record at anearlier point which he had skipped for the present. 

"Here's another record--a brief one--also to Valerie Fox from thehouseboat: 'Refuse all interviews. Deny everything. Will see youas soon as present excitement dies down. '"

Before Kennedy could finish, Waldon had leaped forward, unablelonger to control his feelings. If Kennedy had not seized his arm, I verily believe he would have cast Dr. Jermyn into the bay intowhich his sister had fallen two nights before in her terriblyweakened condition. 

"Waldon, " cried Kennedy, "for God's sake, man--wait! Don't youunderstand? The second message is signed Tracy Edwards. "

It came as quite as much a shock of surprise to me as to Waldon. 

"Don't you understand?" he repeated. "Your sister first learnedfrom Dr. Jermyn what was going on. She moved the Lucie down herenear Seaville in order to be near the wireless station when theship bearing her rival, Valerie Fox, got in touch with land. Withthe help of Dr. Jermyn she intercepted the wireless messages fromthe Kronprinz to the shore--between her husband and Valerie Fox. "

Kennedy was hurrying on now to his irresistible conclusion. "Shefound that he was infatuated with the famous stage beauty, that hewas planning to marry another, her rival. She accused him of it, threatened to defeat his plans. He knew she knew hisunfaithfulness. Instead of being your sister's murderer, Dr. Jermyn was helping her get the evidence that would save both herand perhaps win Miss Fox back to himself. "

Kennedy had turned sharply on Edwards. 

"But, " he added, with a glance that crushed any lingering hopethat the truth had been concealed, "the same night that Dr. Jermynarrived here, you visited your wife. As she slept you severed thenerves that meant life or death to her. Then you covered the cutswith the preparation which you knew Dr. Jermyn used. You asked himto stay, while you went away, thinking that when death came youwould have a perfect alibi--perhaps a scapegoat. Edwards, theradio detective convicts you!"

CHAPTER X

THE CURIO SHOP

Edwards crumpled up as Kennedy and I faced him. There was noescape. In fact our greatest difficulty was to protect him fromWaldon. 

Kennedy's work in the case was over when we had got Edwards ashoreand in the hands of the authorities. But mine had just begun andit was late when I got my story on the wire for the Star. 

I felt pretty tired and determined to make up for it by sleepingthe next day. It was no use, however. 

"Why, what's the matter, Mrs. Northrop?" I heard Kennedy ask as heopened our door the next morning, just as I had finished dressing. 

He had admitted a young woman, who greeted us with nervous, wide-staring eyes. 

"It's--it's about Archer, " she cried, sinking into the nearestchair and staring from one to the other of us. 

She was the wife of Professor Archer Northrop, director of thearcheological department at the university. Both Craig and I hadknown her ever since her marriage to Northrop, for she was one ofthe most attractive ladies in the younger set of the faculty, towhich Craig naturally belonged. Archer had been of the class belowus in the university. We had hazed him, and out of the mild hazingthere had, strangely enough, grown a strong friendship. 

I recollected quickly that Northrop, according to last reports, had been down in the south of Mexico on an archeologicalexpedition. But before I could frame, even in my mind, the naturalquestion in a form that would not alarm his wife further, Kennedyhad it on his lips. 

"No bad news from Mitla, I hope?" he asked gently, recalling oneof the main working stations chosen by the expedition and thereported unsettled condition of the country about it. She lookedup quickly. 

"Didn't you know--he--came back from Vera Cruz yesterday?" sheasked slowly, then added, speaking in a broken tone, "and--heseems--suddenly--to have disappeared. Oh, such a terrible night ofworry! No word--and I called up the museum, but Doctor Bernardo, the curator, had gone, and no one answered. And this morning--Icouldn't stand it any longer--so I came to you. "

"You have no idea, I suppose, of anything that was weighing on hismind?" suggested Kennedy. 

"No, " she answered promptly. 

In default of any further information, Kennedy did not pursue thisline of questioning. I could not determine from his face or mannerwhether he thought the matter might involve another than Mrs. Northrop, or, perhaps, something connected with the unsettledcondition of the country from which her husband had just arrived. 

"Have you any of the letters that Archer wrote home?" asked Craig, at length. 

"Yes, " she replied eagerly, taking a little packet from herhandbag. "I thought you might ask that. I brought them. "

"You are an ideal client, " commented Craig encouragingly, takingthe letters. "Now, Mrs. Northrop, be brave. Trust me to run thisthing down, and if you hear anything let me know immediately. "

She left us a moment later, visibly relieved. 

Scarcely had she gone when Craig, stuffing the letters into hispocket unread, seized his hat, and a moment later was stridingalong toward the museum with his habitual rapid, abstracted stepwhich told me that he sensed a mystery. 

In the museum we met Doctor Bernardo, a man slightly older thanNorthrop, with whom he had been very intimate. He had just arrivedand was already deeply immersed in the study of some new andbeautiful colored plates from the National Museum of Mexico City. 

"Do you remember seeing Northrop here yesterday afternoon?"greeted Craig, without explaining what had happened. 

"Yes, " he answered promptly. "I was here with him until very late. At least, he was in his own room, working hard, when I left. "

"Did you see him go?"

"Why--er--no, " replied Bernardo, as if that were a new idea. "Ileft him here--at least, I didn't see him go out. "

Kennedy tried the door of Northrop's room, which was at the farend, in a corner, and communicated with the hall only through themain floor of the museum. It was locked. A pass-key from thejanitor quickly opened it. 

Such a sight as greeted us, I shall never forget. There, in hisbig desk-chair, sat Northrop, absolutely rigid, the most horriblycontorted look on his features that I have ever seen--half ofpain, half of fear, as if of something nameless. 

Kennedy bent over. His hands were cold. 

Northrop had been dead at least twelve hours, perhaps longer. Allnight the deserted museum had guarded its terrible secret. 

As Craig peered into his face, he saw, in the fleshy part of theneck, just below the left ear, a round red mark, with just a dropor two of now black coagulated blood in the center. All around wecould see a vast amount of miscellaneous stuff, partly unpacked, partly just opened, and waiting to be taken out of the wrappingsby the now motionless hands. 

"I suppose you are more or less familiar with what Northropbrought back?" asked Kennedy of Bernardo, running his eye over thematerial in the room. 

"Yes, reasonably, " answered Bernardo. "Before the cases arrivedfrom the wharf, he told me in detail what he had managed to bringup with him. "

"I wish, then, that you would look it over and see if there isanything missing, " requested Craig, already himself busy in goingover the room for other evidence. 

Doctor Bernardo hastily began taking a mental inventory of thestuff. While they worked, I tried vainly to frame some theorywhich would explain the startling facts we had so suddenlydiscovered. 

Mitla, I knew, was south of the city of Oaxaca, and there, in itsruined palaces, was the crowning achievement of the old Zapoteckings. No ruins in America were more elaborately ornamented orricher in lore for the archeologist. 

Northrop had brought up porphyry blocks with quaint grecques andmuch hieroglyphic painting. Already unpacked were half a dozencopper axes, some of the first of that particular style that hadever been brought to the United States. Besides the sculpturedstones and the mosaics were jugs, cups, vases, little gods, sacrificial stones--enough, almost, to equip a new alcove in themuseum. 

Before Northrop was an idol, a hideous thing on which frogs andsnakes squatted and coiled. It was a fitting piece to accompanythe gruesome occupant of the little room in his long, last vigil. In fact, it almost sent a shudder over me, and if I had beeninclined to the superstitious, I should certainly have concludedthat this was retribution for having disturbed the lares andpenates of a dead race. 

Doctor Bernardo was going over the material a second time. By thelook on his face, even I could guess that something was missing. 

"What is it?" asked Craig, following the curator closely. 

"Why, " he answered slowly, "there was an inscription--we werelooking at it earlier in the day--on a small block of porphyry. Idon't see it. "

He paused and went back to his search before we could ask himfurther what he thought the inscription was about. 

I thought nothing myself at the time of his reticence, for Kennedyhad gone over to a window back of Northrop and to the left. It wasfully twenty feet from the downward slope of the campus there, and, as he craned his neck out, he noted that the copper leader ofthe rain pipe ran past it a few feet away. 

I, too, looked out. A thick group of trees hid the window from theavenue beyond the campus wall, and below us, at a corner of thebuilding, was a clump of rhododendrons. As Craig bent over thesill, he whipped out a pocket lens. 

A moment later he silently handed the glass to me. As nearly as Icould make out, there were five marks on the dust of the sill. 

"Finger-prints!" I exclaimed. "Some one has been clinging to theedge of the ledge. "

"In that case, " Craig observed quietly, "there would have beenonly four prints. "

I looked again, puzzled. The prints were flat and well separated. 

"No, " he added, "not finger-prints--toe-prints. "

"Toe-prints?" I echoed. 

Before he could reply, Craig had dashed out of the room, around, and under the window. There, he was carefully going over the softearth around the bushes below. 

"What are you looking for?" I asked, joining him. 

"Some one--perhaps two--has been here, " he remarked, almost underhis breath. "One, at least, has removed his shoes. See those shoe-prints up to this point? The print of a boot-heel in soft earthshows the position and contour of every nail head. Bertillon hasmade a collection of such nails, certain types, sizes, and shapesused in certain boots, showing often what country the shoes camefrom. Even the number and pattern are significant. Some factoriesuse a fixed number of nails and arrange them in a particularmanner. I have made my own collection of such prints in thiscountry. These were American shoes. Perhaps the clue will not leadus anywhere, though, for I doubt whether it was an American foot. "

Kennedy continued to study the marks. 

"He removed his shoes--either to help in climbing or to preventnoise--ah--here's the foot! Strange--see how small it is--andbroad, how prehensile the toes--almost like fingers. Surely thatfoot could never have been encased in American shoes all its life. I shall make plaster casts of these, to preserve later. "

He was still scouting about on hands and knees in the dampness ofthe rhododendrons. Suddenly he reached his long arm in among theshrubs and picked up a little reed stick. On the end of it was asmall cylinder of buff brown. 

He looked at it curiously, dug his nail into the soft mass, thenrubbed his nail over the tip of his tongue gingerly. 

With a wry face, as if the taste were extremely acrid, hemoistened his handkerchief and wiped off his tongue vigorously. 

"Even that minute particle that was on my nail makes my tonguetingle and feel numb, " he remarked, still rubbing. "Let us go backagain. I want to see Bernardo. "

"Had he any visitors during the day?" queried Kennedy, as hereentered the ghastly little room, while the curator stoodoutside, completely unnerved by the tragedy which had been soclose to him without his apparently knowing it. Kennedy wassqueezing out from the little wound on Northrop's neck a few dropsof liquid on a sterilized piece of glass. 

"No; no one, " Bernardo answered, after a moment. 

"Did you see anyone in the museum who looked suspicious?" askedKennedy, watching Bernardo's face keenly. 

"No, " he hesitated. "There were several people wandering aboutamong the exhibits, of course. One, I recall, late in theafternoon, was a little dark-skinned woman, rather good-looking. "

"A Mexican?"

"Yes, I should say so. Not of Spanish descent, though. She wasrather of the Indian type. She seemed to be much interested in thevarious exhibits, asked me several questions, very intelligently, too. Really, I thought she was trying to--er--flirt with me. "

He shot a glance at Craig, half of confession, half ofembarrassment. 

"And--oh, yes--there was another--a man, a little man, as Irecall, with shaggy hair. He looked like a Russian to me. Iremember, because he came to the door, peered around hastily, andwent away. I thought he might have got into the wrong part of thebuilding and went to direct him right--but before I could get outinto the hall, he was gone. I remember, too, that, as I turned, the woman had followed me and soon was asking other questions--which, I will admit--I was glad to answer. "

"Was Northrop in his room while these people were here?"

"Yes; he had locked the door so that none of the students orvisitors could disturb him. "

"Evidently the woman was diverting your attention while the manentered Northrop's room by the window, " ruminated Craig, as westood for a moment in the outside doorway. 

He had already telephoned to our old friend Doctor Leslie, thecoroner, to take charge of the case, and now was ready to leave. The news had spread, and the janitor of the building was waitingto lock the campus door to keep back the crowd of students andothers. 

Our next duty was the painful one of breaking the news to Mrs. Northrop. I shall pass it over. Perhaps no one could have done itmore gently than Kennedy. She did not cry. She was simply dazed. Fortunately her mother was with her, had been, in fact, ever sinceNorthrop had gone on the expedition. 

"Why should anyone want to steal tablets of old Mixtecinscriptions?" I asked thoughtfully, as we walked sadly over thecampus in the direction of the chemistry building. "Have they asufficient value, even on appreciative Fifth Avenue, to warrantmurder?"

"Well, " he remarked, "it does seem incomprehensible. Yet people dojust such things. The psychologists tell us that there is averitable mania for possessing such curios. However, it ispossible that there may be some deeper significance in this case, "he added, his face puckered in thought. 

Who was the mysterious Mexican woman, who the shaggy Russian? Iasked myself. Clearly, at least, if she existed at all, she wasone of the millions not of Spanish but of Indian descent in thecountry south of us. As I reasoned it out, it seemed to me as ifshe must have been an accomplice. She could not have got intoNorthrop's room either before or after Doctor Bernardo left. Then, too, the toe-and shoe-prints were not hers. But, I figured, shecertainly had a part in the plot. 

While I was engaged in the vain effort to unravel the tragicaffair by pure reason, Kennedy was at work with practical science. 

He began by examining the little dark cylinder on the end of thereed. On a piece of the stuff, broken off, he poured a dark liquidfrom a brown-glass bottle. Then he placed it under a microscope. 

"Microscopically, " he said slowly, "it consists almost wholly ofminute, clear granules which give a blue reaction with iodine. They are starch. Mixed with them are some larger starch granules, a few plant cells, fibrous matter, and other foreign particles. And then, there is the substance that gives that acrid, numbingtaste. " He appeared to be vacantly studying the floor. 

"What do you think it is?" I asked, unable to restrain myself. 

"Aconite, " he answered slowly, "of which the active principle isthe deadly poisonous alkaloid, aconitin. "

He walked over and pulled down a well-thumbed standard work ontoxicology, turned the pages, then began to read aloud:

Pure aconitin is probably the most actively poisonous substancewith which we are acquainted and, if administered hypodermically, the alkaloid is even more powerfully poisonous than when taken bythe mouth. 

As in the case of most of the poisonous alkaloids, aconitin doesnot produce any decidedly characteristic post-mortem appearances. There is no way to distinguish it from other alkaloids, in fact, no reliable chemical test. The physiological effects before deathare all that can be relied on. 

Owing to its exceeding toxic nature, the smallness of the doserequired to produce death, and the lack of tests for recognition, aconitin possesses rather more interest in legal medicine thanmost other poisons. 

It is one of the few substances which, in the present state oftoxicology, might be criminally administered and leave no positiveevidence of the crime. If a small but fatal dose of the poisonwere to be given, especially if it were administeredhypodermically, the chances of its detection in the body afterdeath would be practically none. 

CHAPTER XI

THE "PILLAR OF DEATH"

I was looking at him fixedly as the diabolical nature of what musthave happened sank into my mind. Here was a poison that defieddetection. I could see by the look on Craig's face that thatproblem, alone, was enough to absorb his attention. He seemedfully to realize that we had to deal with a criminal so cleverthat he might never be brought to justice. 

An idea flashed over me. 

"How about the letters?" I suggested. 

"Good, Walter!" he exclaimed. 

He untied the package which Mrs. Northrop had given him andglanced quickly over one after another of the letters. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed, fairly devouring one dated at Mitla. "Listen--it tells about Northrop's work and goes on:

"'I have been much interested in a cavern, or subterraneo, here, in the shape of a cross, each arm of which extends for some twelvefeet underground. In the center it is guarded by a block of stonepopularly called "the Pillar of Death. " There is a superstitionthat whoever embraces it will die before the sun goes down. 

"'From the subterraneo is said to lead a long, underground passageacross the court to another subterranean chamber which is full ofMixtec treasure. Treasure hunters have dug all around it, and itis said that two old Indians, only, know of the immense amount ofburied gold and silver, but that they will not reveal it. '"

I started up. Here was the missing link which I had been waitingfor. 

"There, at least, is the motive, " I blurted out. "That is whyBernardo was so reticent. Northrop, in his innocence of heart, hadshowed him that inscription. "

Kennedy said nothing as he finally tied up the little packet ofletters and locked it in his safe. He was not given to hastygeneralizations; neither was he one who clung doggedly to apreconceived theory. 

It was still early in the afternoon. Craig and I decided to dropinto the museum again in order to see Doctor Bernardo. He was notthere and we sat down to wait. 

Just then the letter box in the door clicked. It was the postmanon his rounds. Kennedy walked over and picked up the letter. 

The postmark bore the words, "Mexico City, " and a date somewhatlater than that on which Northrop had left Vera Cruz. In the lowercorner, underscored, were the words, "Personal--Urgent. "

"I'd like to know what is in that, " remarked Craig, turning itover and over. 

He appeared to be considering something, for he rose suddenly andshoved the letter into his pocket. 

I followed, and a few moments later, across the campus in hislaboratory, he was working quickly over an X-ray apparatus. He hadplaced the letter in it. 

"These are what are known as 'low' tubes, " he explained. "Theygive out 'soft rays. '" He continued to work for a few moments, then handed me the letter. 

"Now, Walter, " he said, "if you will just hurry back to the museumand replace that letter, I think I will have something that willastonish you--though whether it will have any bearing on the case, remains to be seen. "

"What is it?" I asked, a few minutes later, when I had rejoinedhim, after returning the letter. He was poring intently over whatlooked like a negative. 

"The possibility of reading the contents of documents inclosed ina sealed envelope, " he replied, still studying the shadowgraphclosely, "has already been established by the well-known Englishscientist, Doctor Hall Edwards. He has been experimenting with themethod of using X-rays recently discovered by a German scientist, by which radiographs of very thin substances, such as a sheet ofpaper, a leaf, an insect's body, may be obtained. These thinsubstances through which the rays used formerly to pass withoutleaving an impression, can now be radiographed. "

I looked carefully as he traced out something on the negative. Onit was easily possible, following his guidance, to read the wordsinscribed on the sheet of paper inside. So admirably defined wereall the details that even the gum on the envelope and the edges ofthe sheet of paper inside the envelope could be distinguished. 

"Any letter written with ink having a mineral basis can beradiographed, " added Craig. "Even when the sheet is folded in theusual way, it is possible by taking a radiograph stereoscopically, to distinguish the writing, every detail standing out in relief. Besides, it can be greatly magnified, which aids in deciphering itif it is indistinct or jumbled up. Some of it looks like mirrorwriting. Ah, " he added, "here's something interesting!"

Together we managed to trace out the contents of severalparagraphs, of which the significant parts were as follows:

 I am expecting that my friend Senora Herreria will be in New Yorkby the time you receive this, and should she call on you, I knowyou will accord her every courtesy. She has been in Mexico Cityfor a few days, having just returned from Mitla, where she metProfessor Northrop. It is rumored that Professor Northrop hassucceeded in smuggling out of the country a very important stonebearing an inscription which, I understand, is of more thanordinary interest. I do not know anything definite about it, asSenora Herreria is very reticent on the matter, but depend on youto find out if possible and let me know of it. 

According to the rumors and the statements of the senora, it seemsthat Northrop has taken an unfair advantage of the situation downin Oaxaca, and I suppose she and others who know about theinscription feel that it is really the possession of thegovernment. 

You will find that the senora is an accomplished antiquarian andscholar. Like many others down here just now, she has a highregard for the Japanese. As you know, there exists a naturalsympathy between some Mexicans and Japanese, owing to what isbelieved to be a common origin of the two races. 

In spite of the assertions of many to the contrary, there islittle doubt left in the minds of students that the Indian raceswhich have peopled Mexico were of Mongolian stock. Many words insome dialects are easily understood by Chinese immigrants. Asecretary of the Japanese legation here was able recently todecipher old Mixtec inscriptions found in the ruins of Mitla. 

Senora Herreria has been much interested in establishing therelationship and, I understand, is acquainted with a Japanesecurio dealer in New York who recently visited Mexico for the samepurpose. I believe that she wishes to collaborate with him on amonograph on the subject, which is expected to have a powerfuleffect on the public opinion both here and at Tokyo. 

In regard to the inscription which Northrop has taken with him, Irely on you to keep me informed. There seems to be a great deal ofmystery connected with it, and I am simply hazarding a guess as toits nature. If it should prove to be something which mightinterest either the Japanese or ourselves, you can see howimportant it may be, especially in view of the forthcoming missionof General Francisco to Tokyo. 

Very sincerely yours, DR. EMILIO SANCHEZ, Director. 

"Bernardo is a Mexican, " I exclaimed, as Kennedy finished reading, "and there can be no doubt that the woman he mentioned was thisSenora Herreria. "

Kennedy said nothing, but seemed to be weighing the variousparagraphs in the letter. 

"Still, " I observed, "so far, the only one against whom we haveany direct suspicion in the case is the shaggy Russian, whoever heis. "

"A man whom Bernardo says looked like a Russian, " corrected Craig. 

He was pacing the laboratory restlessly. 

"This is becoming quite an international affair, " he remarkedfinally, pausing before me, his hat on. "Would you like to relaxyour mind by a little excursion among the curio shops of the city?I know something about Japanese curios--more, perhaps, than I doof Mexican. It may amuse us, even if it doesn't help in solvingthe mystery. Meanwhile, I shall make arrangements for shadowingBernardo. I want to know just how he acts after he reads thatletter. "

He paused long enough to telephone his instructions to an uptowndetective agency which could be depended on for such mere routinework, then joined me with the significant remark: "Blood isthicker than water, anyhow, Walter. Still, even if the Mexicansare influenced by sentiment, I hardly think that would account forthe interest of our friends from across the water in the matter. "

I do not know how many of the large and small curio shops of thecity we visited that afternoon. At another time, I should haveenjoyed the visits immensely, for anyone seeking articles ofbeauty will find the antique shops of Fifth and Fourth Avenues andthe side streets well worth visiting. 

We came, at length, to one, a small, quaint, dusty rookery, downin a basement, entered almost directly from the street. It boreover the door a little gilt sign which read simply, "Sato's. "

As we entered, I could not help being impressed by the wealth ofarticles in beautiful cloisonne enamel, in mother-of-pearl, lacquer, and champleve. There were beautiful little koros, orincense burners, vases, and teapots. There were enamels incrusted, translucent, and painted, works of the famous Namikawa, of Kyoto, and Namikawa, of Tokyo. Satsuma vases, splendid and rare examplesof the potter's art, crowded gorgeously embroidered screensdepicting all sorts of brilliant scenes, among others the sacredFujiyama rising in the stately distance. Sato himself greeted uswith a ready smile and bow. 

"I am just looking for a few things to add to my den, " explainedKennedy, adding, "nothing in particular, but merely whateverhappens to strike my fancy. "

"Surely, then, you have come to the right shop, " greeted Sato. "Ifthere is anything that interests you, I shall be glad to show it. "

"Thank you, " replied Craig. "Don't let me trouble you with yourother customers. I will call on you if I see anything. "

For several minutes, Craig and I busied ourselves looking about, and we did not have to feign interest, either. 

"Often things are not as represented, " he whispered to me, after awhile, "but a connoiseur can tell spurious goods. These are thereal thing, mostly. "

"Not one in fifty can tell the difference, " put in the voice ofSato, at his elbow. 

"Well, you see I happen to know, " Craig replied, not the leastdisconcerted. "You can't always be too sure. "

A laugh and a shrug was Sato's answer. "It's well all are not sokeen, " he said, with a frank acknowledgment that he was not abovesharp practices. 

I glanced now and then at the expressionless face of the curiodealer. Was it merely the natural blankness of his countenancethat impressed me, or was there, in fact, something deep and darkhidden in it, something of "East is East and West is West" which Idid not and could not understand? Craig was admiring the bronzes. He had paused before one, a square metal fire-screen of odddesign, with the title on a card, "Japan Gazing at the World. "

It represented Japan as an eagle, with beak and talons ofburnished gold, resting on a rocky island about which great wavesdashed. The bird had an air of dignity and conscious pride in itsstrength, as it looked out at the world, a globe revolving inspace. 

"Do you suppose there is anything significant in that?" I asked, pointing to the continent of North America, also in gold andprominently in view. 

"Ah, honorable sir, " answered Sato, before Kennedy could reply, "the artist intended by that to indicate Japan's friendliness forAmerica and America's greatness. "

He was inscrutable. It seemed as if he were watching our everymove, and yet it was done with a polite cordiality that could notgive offense. 

Behind some bronzes of the Japanese Hercules destroying the demonsand other mythical heroes was a large alcove, or tokonoma, decorated with peacock, stork, and crane panels. Carvings andlacquer added to the beauty of it. A miniature chrysanthemumgarden heightened the illusion. Carved hinoki wood framed thepanels, and the roof was supported by columns in the old Japanesestyle, the whole being a compromise between the very simple andquiet and the polychromatic. The dark woods, the lanterns, thefloor tiles of dark red, and the cushions of rich gold and yellowwere most alluring. It had the genuine fascination of the Orient. 

"Will the gentlemen drink a little sake?" Sato asked politely. 

Craig thanked him and said that we would. 

"Otaka!" Sato called. 

A peculiar, almost white-skinned attendant answered, and a momentlater produced four cups and poured out the rice brandy, takinghis own quietly, apart from us. I watched him drink, curiously. Hetook the cup; then, with a long piece of carved wood, he dippedinto the sake, shaking a few drops on the floor to the fourquarters. Finally, with a deft sweep, he lifted his heavy mustachewith the piece of wood and drank off the draft almost withouttaking breath. 

He was a peculiar man of middle height, with a shock of dark, tough, woolly hair, well formed and not bad-looking, with a robustgeneral physique, as if his ancestors had been meat eaters. Hisforehead was narrow and sloped backward; the cheekbones wereprominent; nose hooked, broad and wide, with strong nostrils;mouth large, with thick lips, and not very prominent chin. Hiseyes were perhaps the most noticeable feature. They were darkgray, almost like those of a European. 

As Otaka withdrew with the empty cups, we rose to continue ourinspection of the wonders of the shop. There were ivories of alldescriptions. Here was a two-handled sword, with a very largeivory handle, a weirdly carved scabbard, and wonderful steelblade. By the expression of Craig's face, Sato knew that he hadmade a sale. 

Craig had been rummaging among some warlike instruments whichSato, with the instincts of a true salesman, was now displaying, and had picked up a bow. It was short, very strong, and made ofpine wood. He held it horizontally and twanged the string. Ilooked up in time to catch a pleased expression on the face ofOtaka. 

"Most people would have held it the other way, " commented Sato. 

Craig said nothing, but was examining an arrow, almost twentyinches long and thick, made of cane, with a point of metal verysharp but badly fastened. He fingered the deep blood groove in thescooplike head of the arrow and looked at it carefully. 

"I'll take that, " he said, "only I wish it were one with theregular reddish-brown lump in it. "

"Oh, but, honorable sir, " apologized Sato, "the Japanese lawprohibits that, now. There are few of those, and they are veryvaluable. "

"I suppose so, " agreed Craig. "This will do, though. You have awonderful shop here, Sato. Some time, when I feel richer, I meanto come in again. No, thank you, you need not send them; I'llcarry them. "

We bowed ourselves out, promising to come again when Sato receiveda new consignment from the Orient which he was expecting. 

"That other Jap is a peculiar fellow, " I observed, as we walkedalong uptown again. 

"He isn't a Jap, " remarked Craig. "He is an Ainu, one of theaborigines who have been driven northward into the island ofYezo. "

"An Ainu?" I repeated. 

"Yes. Generally thought, now, to be a white race and nearer of kinto Europeans than Asiatics. The Japanese have pushed themnorthward and are now trying to civilize them. They are a dirty, hairy race, but when they are brought under civilizing influencesthey adapt themselves to their environment and make very goodservants. Still, they are on about the lowest scale of humanity. "

"I thought Otaka was very mild, " I commented. 

"They are a most inoffensive and peaceable people usually, " heanswered, "good-natured and amenable to authority. But they becomedangerous when driven to despair by cruel treatment. The Japanesegovernment is very considerate of them--but not all Japanese are. "

CHAPTER XII

THE ARROW POISON

Far into the night Craig was engaged in some very delicate andminute microscopic work in the laboratory. 

We were about to leave when there was a gentle tap on the door. Kennedy opened it and admitted a young man, the operative of thedetective agency who had been shadowing Bernardo. His report wasvery brief, but, to me at least, significant. Bernardo, on hisreturn to the museum, had evidently read the letter, which hadagitated him very much, for a few moments later he hurriedly leftand went downtown to the Prince Henry Hotel. The operative hadcasually edged up to the desk and overheard whom he asked for. Itwas Senora Herreria. Once again, later in the evening, he hadasked for her, but she was still out. 

It was quite early the next morning, when Kennedy had resumed hiscareful microscopic work, that the telephone bell rang, and heanswered it mechanically. But a moment later a look of intensesurprise crossed his face. 

"It was from Doctor Leslie, " he announced, hanging up the receiverquickly. "He has a most peculiar case which he wants me to see--awoman. "

Kennedy called a cab, and, at a furious pace, we dashed across thecity and down to the Metropolitan Hospital, where Doctor Lesliewas waiting. He met us eagerly and conducted us to a little roomwhere, lying motionless on a bed, was a woman. 

She was a striking-looking woman, dark of hair and skin, and inlife she must have been sensuously attractive. But now her facewas drawn and contorted--with the same ghastly look that had beenon the face of Northrop. 

"She died in a cab, " explained Doctor Leslie, "before they couldget her to the hospital. At first they suspected the cab driver. But he seems to have proved his innocence. He picked her up lastnight on Fifth Avenue, reeling--thought she was intoxicated. And, in fact, he seems to have been right. Our tests have shown a greatdeal of alcohol present, but nothing like enough to have had sucha serious effect. "

"She told nothing of herself?" asked Kennedy. 

"No; she was pretty far gone when the cabby answered her signal. All he could get out of her was a word that sounded like 'Curio-curio. ' He says she seemed to complain of something about hermouth and head. Her face was drawn and shrunken; her hands werecold and clammy, and then convulsions came on. He called anambulance, but she was past saving when it arrived. The numbnessseemed to have extended over all her body; swallowing wasimpossible; there was entire loss of her voice as well as sight, and death took place by syncope. "

"Have you any clue to the cause of her death?" asked Craig. 

"Well, it might have been some trouble with her heart, I suppose, "remarked Doctor Leslie tentatively. 

"Oh, she looks strong that way. No, hardly anything organic. "

"Well, then I thought she looked like a Mexican, " went on DoctorLeslie. "It might be some new tropical disease. I confess I don'tknow. The fact is, " he added, lowering his voice, "I had my owntheory about it until a few moments ago. That was why I calledyou. "

"What do you mean?" asked Craig, evidently bent on testing his owntheory by the other's ignorance. 

Doctor Leslie made no answer immediately, but raised the sheetwhich covered her body and disclosed, in the fleshy part of theupper arm, a curious little red swollen mark with a couple ofdrops of darkened blood. 

"I thought at first, " he added, "that we had at last a genuine'poisoned needle' case. You see, that looked like it. But I havemade all the tests for curare and strychnin without results. "

At the mere suggestion, a procession of hypodermic-needle andwhite-slavery stories flashed before me. 

"But, " objected Kennedy, "clearly this was not a case ofkidnaping. It is a case of murder. Have you tested for theordinary poisons?"

Doctor Leslie shook his head. "There was no poison, " he said, "absolutely none that any of our tests could discover. "

Kennedy bent over and squeezed out a few drops of liquid from thewound on a microscope slide, and covered them. 

"You have not identified her yet, " he added, looking up. "I thinkyou will find, Leslie, that there is a Senora Herreria registeredat the Prince Henry who is missing, and that this woman will agreewith the description of her. Anyhow, I wish you would look it upand let me know. "

Half an hour later, Kennedy was preparing to continue his studieswith the microscope when Doctor Bernardo entered. He seemed mostsolicitous to know what progress was being made on the case, and, although Kennedy did not tell much, still he did not discourageconversation on the subject. 

When we came in the night before, Craig had unwrapped and tosseddown the Japanese sword and the Ainu bow and arrow on a table, andit was not long before they attracted Bernardo's attention. 

"I see you are a collector yourself, " he ventured, picking themup. 

"Yes, " answered Craig, offhand; "I picked them up yesterday atSato's. You know the place?"

"Oh, yes, I know Sato, " answered the curator, seemingly withoutthe slightest hesitation. "He has been in Mexico--is quite astudent. "

"And the other man, Otaka?"

"Other man--Otaka? You mean his wife?"

I saw Kennedy check a motion of surprise and came to the rescuewith the natural question: "His wife--with a beard and mustache?"

It was Bernardo's turn to be surprised. He looked at me a moment, then saw that I meant it, and suddenly his face lighted up. 

"Oh, " he exclaimed, "that must have been on account of theimmigration laws or something of the sort. Otaka is his wife. TheAinus are much sought after by the Japanese as wives. The women, you know, have a custom of tattooing mustaches on themselves. Itis hideous, but they think it is beautiful. "

"I know, " I pursued, watching Kennedy's interest in ourconversation, "but this was not tattooed. "

"Well, then, it must have been false, " insisted Bernardo. 

The curator chatted a few moments, during which I expected Kennedyto lead the conversation around to Senora Herreria. But he didnot, evidently fearing to show his hand. 

"What did you make of it?" I asked, when he had gone. "Is hetrying to hide something?"

"I think he has simplified the case, " remarked Craig, leaningback, his hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling. "Hello, here's Leslie! What did you find, Doctor?" The coroner had enteredwith a look of awe on his face, as if Kennedy had directed him bysome sort of necromancy. 

"It was Senora Herreria!" he exclaimed. "She has been missing fromthe hotel ever since late yesterday afternoon. What do you thinkof it?"

"I think, " replied Kennedy, speaking slowly and deliberately, "that it is very much like the Northrop case. You haven't takenthat up yet?"

"Only superficially. What do you make of it?" asked the coroner. 

"I had an idea that it might be aconitin poisoning, " he said. 

Leslie glanced at him keenly for a moment. "Then you'll neverprove anything in the laboratory, " he said. 

"There are more ways of catching a criminal, Leslie, " put inCraig, "than are set down in the medico-legal text-books. I shalldepend on you and Jameson to gather together a rather cosmopolitancrowd here to-night. "

He said it with a quiet confidence which I could not gainsay, although I did not understand. However, mostly with the officialaid of Doctor Leslie, I followed out his instructions, and it wasindeed a strange party that assembled that night. There wereDoctor Bernardo; Sato, the curio dealer; Otaka, the Ainu, andourselves. Mrs. Northrop, of course, could not come. 

"Mexico, " began Craig, after he had said a few words explainingwhy he had brought us together, "is full of historical treasure. To all intents and purposes, the government says, 'Come and dig. 'But when there are finds, then the government swoops down on themfor its own national museum. The finder scarcely gets a chance toexport them. However, now seemed to be the time to ProfessorNorthrop to smuggle his finds out of the country. 

"But evidently it could not be done without exciting all kinds ofrumors and suspicions. Stories seem to have spread far and fastabout what he had discovered. He realized the unsettled conditionof the country--perhaps wanted to confirm his reading of a certaininscription by consultation with one scholar whom he thought hecould trust. At any rate, he came home. "

Kennedy paused, making use of the silence for emphasis. "You haveall read of the wealth that Cortez found in Mexico. Where are thegold and silver of the conquistadores? Gone to the melting pot, centuries ago. But is there none left? The Indians believe so. There are persons who would stop at nothing--even at murder ofAmerican professors, murder of their own comrades, to get at thesecret. "

He laid his hand almost lovingly on his powerful little microscopeas he resumed on another line of evidence. 

"And while we are on the subject of murders, two very similardeaths have occurred, " he went on. "It is of no use to try togloss them over. Frankly, I suspected that they might have beencaused by aconite poisoning. But, in the case of such poisoning, not only is the lethal dose very small but our chemical methods ofdetection are nil. The dose of the active principle, aconitinnitrate, is about one six-hundredth of a grain. There are no colortests, no reactions, as in the case of the other organic poisons. "

I wondered what he was driving at. Was there, indeed, no test? Hadthe murderer used the safest of poisons--one that left no clue? Ilooked covertly at Sato's face. It was impassive. Doctor Bernardowas visibly uneasy as Kennedy proceeded. Cool enough up to thetime of the mention of the treasure, I fancied, now, that he wasgrowing more and more nervous. 

Craig laid down on the table the reed stick with the littledarkened cylinder on the end. 

"That, " he said, "is a little article which I picked up beneathNorthrop's window yesterday. It is a piece of anno-noki, orbushi. " I fancied I saw just a glint of satisfaction in Otaka'seyes. 

"Like many barbarians, " continued Craig, "the Ainus from timeimmemorial have prepared virulent poisons with which they chargedtheir weapons of the chase and warfare. The formulas for thepreparations, as in the case of other arrow poisons of othertribes, are known only to certain members, and the secret ispassed down from generation to generation as an heirloom, as itwere. But in this case it is no longer a secret. It has now beenproved that the active principle of this poison is aconite. "

"If that is the case, " broke in Doctor Leslie, "it is hopeless toconnect anyone directly in that way with these murders. There isno test for aconitin. "

I thought Sato's face was more composed and impassive than ever. Doctor Bernardo, however, was plainly excited. 

"What--no test--NONE?" asked Kennedy, leaning forward eagerly. Then, as if he could restrain the answer to his own question nolonger, he shot out: "How about the new starch test justdiscovered by Professor Reichert, of the University ofPennsylvania? Doubtless you never dreamed that starch may be ameans of detecting the nature of a poison in obscure cases incriminology, especially in cases where the quantity of poisonnecessary to cause death is so minute that no trace of it can befound in the blood. 

"The starch method is a new and extremely inviting subject to me. The peculiarities of the starch of any plant are quite asdistinctive of the plant as are those of the hemoglobin crystalsin the blood of an animal. I have analyzed the evidence of mymicroscope in this case thoroughly. When the arrow poison isintroduced subcutaneously--say, by a person shooting a poisoneddart, which he afterward removes in order to destroy the evidence--the lethal constituents are rapidly absorbed. 

"But the starch remains in the wound. It can be recovered andstudied microscopically and can be definitely recognized. DoctorReichert has published a study of twelve hundred such starchesfrom all sorts of plants. In this case, it not only proves to beaconitin but the starch granules themselves can be recognized. They came from this piece of arrow poison. "

Every eye was fixed on him now. 

"Besides, " he rapped out, "in the soft soil beneath the window ofProfessor Northrop's room, I found footprints. I have only tocompare the impressions I took there and those of the people inthis room, to prove that, while the real murderer stood guardbelow the window, he sent some one more nimble up the rain pipe toshoot the poisoned dart at Professor Northrop, and, later, to letdown a rope by which he, the instigator, could gain the room, remove the dart, and obtain the key to the treasure he sought. "

Kennedy was looking straight at Professor Bernardo. 

"A friend of mine in Mexico has written me about an inscription, "he burst out. "I received the letter only to-day. As nearly as Ican gather, there was an impression that some of Northrop's stuffwould be valuable in proving the alleged kinship between Mexicoand Japan, perhaps to arouse hatred of the United States. "

"Yes--that is all very well, " insisted Kennedy. "But how about thetreasure?"

"Treasure?" repeated Bernardo, looking from one of us to another. 

"Yes, " pursued Craig relentlessly, "the treasure. You are anexpert in reading the hieroglyphics. By your own statement, youand Northrop had been going over the stuff he had sent up. Youknow it. "

Bernardo gave a quick glance from Kennedy to me. Evidently he sawthat the secret was out. 

"Yes, " he said huskily, in a low tone, "Northrop and I were tofollow the directions after we had plotted them out and were toshare it together on the next expedition, which I could direct asa Mexican without so much suspicion. I should still have shared itwith his widow if this unfortunate affair had not exposed thesecret. "

Bernardo had risen earnestly. 

"Kennedy, " he cried, "before God, if you will get back that stoneand keep the secret from going further than this room, I willprove what I have said by dividing the Mixtec treasure with Mrs. Northrop and making her one of the richest widows in the country!"

"That is what I wanted to be sure of, " nodded Craig. "Bernardo, Senora Herreria, of whom your friend wrote to you from Mexico, hasbeen murdered in the same way that Professor Northrop was. Otakawas sent by her husband to murder Northrop, in order that theymight obtain the so-called 'Pillar of Death' and the key to thetreasure. Then, when the senora was no doubt under the influenceof sake in the pretty little Oriental bower at the curio shop, aquick jab, and Otaka had removed one who shared the secret withthem. "

He had turned and faced the pair. 

"Sato, " he added, "you played on the patriotism of the senorauntil you wormed from her the treasure secret. Evidently rumors ofit had spread from Mexican Indians to Japanese visitors. And then, Otaka, all jealousy over one whom she, no doubt, justly considereda rival, completed your work by sending her forth to die, unknown, on the street. Walter, ring up First Deputy O'Connor. The stone ishidden somewhere in the curio shop. We can find it without Sato'shelp. The quicker such a criminal is lodged safely in jail, thebetter for humanity. "

Sato was on his feet, advancing cautiously toward Craig. I knewthe dangers, now, of anno-noki, as well as the wonders of jujutsu, and, with a leap, I bounded past Bernardo and between Sato andKennedy. 

How it happened, I don't know, but, an instant later, I wassprawling. 

Before I could recover myself, before even Craig had a chance topull the hair-trigger of his automatic, Sato had seized the Ainuarrow poison from the table, had bitten the little cylinder inhalf, and had crammed the other half into the mouth of Otaka. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE RADIUM ROBBER

Kennedy simply reached for the telephone and called an ambulance. But it was purely perfunctory. Dr. Leslie himself was the onlyofficial who could handle Sato's case now. 

We had planned a little vacation for ourselves, but the planningcame to naught. The next night we spent on a sleeper. That initself is work to me. 

It all came about through a hurried message from Murray Denison, president of the Federal Radium Corporation. Nothing would do butthat he should take both Kennedy and myself with him post-haste toPittsburgh at the first news of what had immediately been called"the great radium robbery. "

Of course the newspapers were full of it. The very novelty of anultra-modern cracksman going off with something worth upward of acouple of hundred thousand dollars--and all contained in a fewplatinum tubes which could be tucked away in a vest pocket--hadsomething about it powerfully appealing to the imagination. 

"Most ingenious, but, you see, the trouble with that safe is thatit was built to keep radium IN--not cracksmen OUT, " remarkedKennedy, when Denison had rushed us from the train to take a lookat the little safe in the works of the Corporation. 

"Breaking into such a safe as this, " added Kennedy, after acursory examination, "is simple enough, after all. "

It was, however, a remarkably ingenious contrivance, about threefeet in height and of a weight of perhaps a ton and a half, andall to house something weighing only a few grains. 

"But, " Denison hastened to explain, "we had to protect the radiumnot only against burglars, but, so to speak, against itself. Radium emanations pass through steel and experiments have shownthat the best metal to contain them is lead. So, the difficultywas solved by making a steel outer case enclosing an inside leadenshell three inches thick. "

Kennedy had been toying thoughtfully with the door. 

"Then the door, too, had to be contrived so as to prevent anyescape of the emanations through joints. It is lathe turned andcircular, a 'dead fit. ' By means of a special contrivance anyslight looseness caused by wear and tear of closing can beadjusted. And another feature. That is the appliance forpreventing the loss of emanation when the door is opened. Twovalves have been inserted into the door and before it is openedtubes with mercury are passed through which collect and store theemanation. "

"All very nice for the radium, " remarked Craig cheerfully. "Butthe fellow had only to use an electric drill and the gram or moreof radium was his. "

"I know that--now, " ruefully persisted Denison. "But the safe wasdesigned for us specially. The fellow got into it and got away, asfar as I can see, without leaving a clue. "

"Except one, of course, " interrupted Kennedy quickly. 

Denison looked at him a moment keenly, then nodded and said, "Yes--you are right. You mean one which he must bear on himself?"

"Exactly. You can't carry a gram or more of radium bromide longwith impunity. The man to look for is one who in a few days willhave somewhere on his body a radium burn which will take months toheal. The very thing he stole is a veritable Frankenstein'smonster bent on the destruction of the thief himself!"

Kennedy had meanwhile picked up one of the Corporation's circularslying on a desk. He ran his eye down the list of names. 

"So, Hartley Haughton, the broker, is one of your stockholders, "mused Kennedy. 

"Not only one but THE one, " replied Denison with obvious pride. 

Haughton was a young man who had come recently into his fortune, and, while no one believed it to be large, he had cut quite afigure in Wall Street. 

"You know, I suppose, " added Denison, "that he is engaged toFelicie Woods, the daughter of Mrs. Courtney Woods?"

Kennedy did not, but said nothing. 

"A most delightful little girl, " continued Denison thoughtfully. "I have known Mrs. Woods for some time. She wanted to invest, butI told her frankly that this is, after all, a speculation. We maynot be able to swing so big a proposition, but, if not, no one cansay we have taken a dollar of money from widows and orphans. "

"I should like to see the works, " nodded Kennedy approvingly. 

"By all means. "

The plant was a row of long low buildings of brick on theoutskirts of the city, once devoted to the making of vanadiumsteel. The ore, as Denison explained, was brought to Pittsburghbecause he had found here already a factory which could readily beturned into a plant for the extraction of radium. Huge baths andvats and crucibles for the various acids and alkalis and otherprocesses used in treating the ore stood at various points. 

"This must be like extracting gold from sea water, " remarkedKennedy jocosely, impressed by the size of the plant as comparedto the product. 

"Except that after we get through we have something infinitelymore precious than gold, " replied Denison, "something whichwarrants the trouble and outlay. Yes, the fact is that thepercentage of radium in all such ores is even less than of gold insea water. "

"Everything seems to be most carefully guarded, " remarked Kennedyas we concluded our tour of the well-appointed works. 

He had gone over everything in silence, and now at last we hadreturned to the safe. 

"Yes, " he repeated slowly, as if confirming his originalimpression, "such an amount of radium as was stolen wouldn'toccasion immediate discomfort to the thief, I suppose, but laterno infernal machine could be more dangerous to him. "

I pictured to myself the series of fearful works of mischief andterror that might follow, a curse on the thief worse than that ofthe weirdest curses of the Orient, the danger to the innocent, andthe fact that in the hands of a criminal it was an instrument forcommitting crimes that might defy detection. 

"There is nothing more to do here now, " he concluded. "I can seenothing for the present except to go back to New York. Thetelltale burn may not be the only clue, but if the thief is goingto profit by his spoils we shall hear about it best in New York orby cable from London, Paris, or some other European city. "

Our hurried departure from New York had not given us a chance tovisit the offices of the Radium Corporation for the distributionof the salts themselves. They were in a little old office buildingon William Street, near the drug district and yet scarcely amoment's walk from the financial district. 

"Our head bookkeeper, Miss Wallace, is ill, " remarked Denison whenwe arrived at the office, "but if there is anything I can do tohelp you, I shall be glad to do it. We depend on Miss Wallace agreat deal. Haughton says she is the brains of the office. "

Kennedy looked about the well-appointed suite curiously. 

"Is this another of those radium safes?" he asked, approaching onesimilar in appearance to that which had been broken open already. 

"Yes, only a little larger. "

"How much is in it?"

"Most of our supply. I should say about two and a half grams. MissWallace has the record. "

"It is of the same construction, I presume, " pursued Kennedy. "Iwonder whether the lead lining fits closely to the steel?"

"I think not, " considered Denison. "As I remember there was a sortof insulating air cushion or something of the sort. "

Denison was quite eager to show us about. In fact ever since hehad hustled us out to view the scene of the robbery, his highnervous tension had given us scarcely a moment's rest. For hourshe had talked radium, until I felt that he, like his metal, musthave an inexhaustible emanation of words. He was one of thosenervous, active little men, a born salesman, whether of ribbons orradium. 

"We have just gone into furnishing radium water, " he went on, bustling about and patting a little glass tank. 

I looked closely and could see that the water glowed in the darkwith a peculiar phosphorescence. 

"The apparatus for the treatment, " he continued, "consists of twoglass and porcelain receptacles. Inside the larger receptacle isplaced the smaller, which contains a tiny quantity of radium. Intothe larger receptacle is poured about a gallon of filtered water. The emanation from that little speck of radium is powerful enoughto penetrate its porcelain holder and charge the water with itscurative properties. From a tap at the bottom of the tank thepatient draws the number of glasses of water a day prescribed. Forsuch purposes the emanation within a day or two of being collectedis as good as radium itself. Why, this water is five thousandtimes as radioactive as the most radioactive natural springwater. "

"You must have control of a comparatively large amount of themetal, " suggested Kennedy. 

"We are, I believe, the largest holders of radium in the world, "he answered. "I have estimated that all told there are not muchmore than ten grams, of which Madame Curie has perhaps three, while Sir Ernest Cassel of London is the holder of perhaps asmuch. We have nearly four grams, leaving about six or seven forthe rest of the world. "

Kennedy nodded and continued to look about. 

"The Radium Corporation, " went on Denison, "has several largedeposits of radioactive ore in Utah in what is known as the PoorLittle Rich Valley, a valley so named because from being about thebarrenest and most unproductive mineral or agricultural hole inthe hills, the sudden discovery of the radioactive deposits hasmade it almost priceless. "

He had entered a private office and was looking over some mailthat had been left on his desk during his absence. 

"Look at this, " he called, picking up a clipping from a newspaperwhich had been laid there for his attention. "You see, we havethem aroused. "

We read the clipping together hastily:

PLAN TO CORNER WORLD'S RADIUM

LONDON. --Plans are being matured to form a large corporation forthe monopoly of the existing and future supply of radiumthroughout the world. The company is to be called UniversalRadium, Limited, and the capital of ten million dollars will beoffered for public subscription at par simultaneously in London, Paris and New York. 

The company's business will be to acquire mines and deposits ofradioactive substances as well as the control of patents andprocesses connected with the production of radium. The outspokenpurpose of the new company is to obtain a world-wide monopoly andmaintain the price. 

 "Ah--a competitor, " commented Kennedy, handing back the clipping. 

"Yes. You know radium salts used always to come from Europe. Nowwe are getting ready to do some exporting ourselves. Say, " headded excitedly, "there's an idea, possibly, in that. "

"How?" queried Craig. 

"Why, since we should be the principal competitors to the foreignmines, couldn't this robbery have been due to the machinations ofthese schemers? To my mind, the United States, because of itssupply of radium-bearing ores, will have to be reckoned with firstin cornering the market. This is the point, Kennedy. Would thosepeople who seem to be trying to extend their new company all overthe world stop at anything in order to cripple us at the start?"

How much longer Denison would have rattled on in his effort toexplain the robbery, I do not know. The telephone rang and areporter from the Record, who had just read my own story in theStar, asked for an interview. I knew that it would be only aquestion of minutes now before the other men were wearing a pathout on the stairs, and we managed to get away before the onrushbegan. 

"Walter, " said Kennedy, as soon as we had reached the street. "Iwant to get in touch with Halsey Haughton. How can it be done?"

I could think of nothing better at that moment than to inquire atthe Star's Wall Street office, which happened to be around thecorner. I knew the men down there intimately, and a few minuteslater we were whisked up in the elevator to the office. 

They were as glad to see me as I was to see them, for the story ofthe robbery had interested the financial district perhaps morethan any other. 

"Where can I find Halsey Haughton at this hour?" I asked. 

"Say, " exclaimed one of the men, "what's the matter? There havebeen all kinds of rumors in the Street about him to-day. Did youknow he was ill?"

"No, " I answered. "Where is he?"

"Out at the home of his fiancee, who is the daughter of Mrs. Courtney Woods, at Glenclair. "

"What's the matter?" I persisted. 

"That's just it. No one seems to know. They say--well--they say hehas a cancer. "

Halsey Haughton suffering from cancer? It was such an uncommonthing to hear of a young man that I looked up quickly in surprise. Then all at once it flashed over me that Denison and Kennedy haddiscussed the matter of burns from the stolen radium. Might notthis be, instead of cancer, a radium burn?

Kennedy, who had been standing a little apart from me while I wastalking with the boys, signaled to me with a quick glance not tosay too much, and a few minutes later we were on the street again. 

I knew without being told that he was bound by the next train tothe pretty little New Jersey suburb of Glenclair. 

It was late when we arrived, yet Kennedy had no hesitation incalling at the quaint home of Mrs. Courtney Woods on WoodridgeAvenue. 

Mrs. Woods, a well-set-up woman of middle age, who had retainedher youth and good looks in a remarkable manner, met us in thefoyer. Briefly, Kennedy explained that we had just come in fromPittsburgh with Mr. Denison and that it was very important that weshould see Haughton at once. 

We had hardly told her the object of our visit when a young womanof perhaps twenty-two or three, a very pretty girl, with all thegood looks of her mother and a freshness which only youth canpossess, tiptoed quietly downstairs. Her face told plainly thatshe was deeply worried over the illness of her fiance. 

"Who is it, mother?" she whispered from the turn in the stairs. "Some gentlemen from the company? Hartley's door was open when thebell rang, and he thought he heard something said about thePittsburgh affair. "

Though she had whispered, it had not been for the purpose ofconcealing anything from us, but rather that the keen ears of herpatient might not catch the words. She cast an inquiring glance atus. 

"Yes, " responded Kennedy in answer to her look, modulating histone. "We have just left Mr. Denison at the office. Might we seeMr. Haughton for a moment? I am sure that nothing we can say or dowill be as bad for him as our going away, now that he knows thatwe are here. "

The two women appeared to consult for a moment. 

"Felicie, " called a rather nervous voice from the second floor, "is it some one from the company?"

"Just a moment, Hartley, " she answered, then, lower to her mother, added, "I don't think it can do any harm, do you, mother?"

"You remember the doctor's orders, my dear. "

Again the voice called her. 

"Hang the doctor's orders, " the girl exclaimed, with an air ofalmost masculinity. "It can't be half so bad as to have him worry. Will you promise not to stay long? We expect Dr. Bryant in a fewmoments, anyway. "

CHAPTER XIV

THE SPINTHARISCOPE

We followed her upstairs and into Haughton's room, where he waslying in bed, propped up by pillows. Haughton certainly was ill. There was no mistake about that. He was a tall, gaunt man with anair about him that showed that he found illness very irksome. Around his neck was a bandage, and some adhesive tape at the backshowed that a plaster of some sort had been placed there. 

As we entered his eyes traveled restlessly from the face of thegirl to our own in an inquiring manner. He stretched out a nervoushand to us, while Kennedy in a few short sentences explained howwe had become associated with the case and what we had seenalready. 

"And there is not a clue?" he repeated as Craig finished. 

"Nothing tangible yet, " reiterated Kennedy. "I suppose you haveheard of this rumor from London of a trust that is going into theradium field internationally?"

"Yes, " he answered, "that is the thing you read to me in themorning papers, you remember, Felicie. Denison and I have heardsuch rumors before. If it is a fight, then we shall give them afight. They can't hold us up, if Denison is right in thinking thatthey are at the bottom of this--this robbery. "

"Then you think he may be right?" shot out Kennedy quickly. 

Haughton glanced nervously from Kennedy to me. 

"Really, " he answered, "you see how impossible it is for me tohave an opinion? You and Denison have been over the ground. Youknow much more about it than I do. I am afraid I shall have todefer to you. "

Again we heard the bell downstairs, and a moment later a cheeryvoice, as Mrs. Woods met some one down in the foyer, asked, "Howis the patient to-night?"

We could not catch the reply. 

"Dr. Bryant, my physician, " put in Haughton. "Don't go. I willassume the responsibility for your being here. Hello, Doctor. Why, I'm much the same to-night, thank you. At least no worse since Itook your advice and went to bed. "

Dr. Bryant was a bluff, hearty man, with the personal magnetismwhich goes with the making of a successful physician. He hadmounted the stairs quietly but rapidly, evidently prepared to seeus. 

"Would you mind waiting in this little dressing room?" asked thedoctor, motioning to another, smaller room adjoining. 

He had taken from his pocket a little instrument with a dial facelike a watch, which he attached to Haughton's wrist. "A pocketinstrument to measure blood pressure, " whispered Craig, as weentered the little room. 

While the others were gathered about Haughton, we stood in thenext room, out of earshot. Kennedy had leaned his elbow on achiffonier. As he looked about the little room, more from force ofhabit than because he thought he might discover anything, Kennedy's eye rested on a glass tray on the top in which lay somepins, a collar button or two, which Haughton had apparently justtaken off, and several other little unimportant articles. 

Kennedy bent over to look at the glass tray more closely, apuzzled look crossed his face, and with a glance at the other roomhe gathered up the tray and its contents. 

"Keep up a good courage, " said Dr. Bryant. "You'll come out allright, Haughton. " Then as he left the bedroom he added to us, "Gentlemen, I hope you will pardon me, but if you could postponethe remainder of your visit until a later day, I am sure you willfind it more satisfactory. "

There was an air of finality about the doctor, though nothingunpleasant in it. We followed him down the stairs, and as we didso, Felicie, who had been waiting in a reception room, appearedbefore the portieres, her earnest eyes fixed on his kindly face. 

"Dr. Bryant, " she appealed, "is he--is he, really--so badly?"

The Doctor, who had apparently known her all her life, reacheddown and took one of her hands, patting it with his own in afatherly way. "Don't worry, little girl, " he encouraged. "We aregoing to come out all right--all right. "

She turned from him to us and, with a bright forced smile whichshowed the stuff she was made of, bade us good night. 

Outside, the Doctor, apparently regretting that he had virtuallyforced us out, paused before his car. "Are you going down towardthe station? Yes? I am going that far. I should be glad to driveyou there. "

Kennedy climbed into the front seat, leaving me in the rear wherethe wind wafted me their brief conversation as we sped downWoodbridge Avenue. 

"What seems to be the trouble?" asked Craig. 

"Very high blood pressure, for one thing, " replied the Doctorfrankly. 

"For which the latest thing is the radium water cure, I suppose?"ventured Kennedy. 

"Well, radioactive water is one cure for hardening of thearteries. But I didn't say he had hardening of the arteries. Still, he is taking the water, with good results. You are from thecompany?"

Kennedy nodded. 

"It was the radium water that first interested him in it. Why, wefound a pressure of 230 pounds, which is frightful, and we havebrought it down to 150, not far from normal. "

"Still that could have nothing to do with the sore on his neck, "hazarded Kennedy. 

The Doctor looked at him quickly, then ahead at the path of lightwhich his motor shed on the road. 

He said nothing, but I fancied that even he felt there wassomething strange in his silence over the new complication. He didnot give Kennedy a chance to ask whether there were any other suchsores. 

"At any rate, " he said, as he throttled down his engine with aflourish before the pretty little Glenclair station, "that girlneedn't worry. "

There was evidently no use in trying to extract anything furtherfrom him. He had said all that medical ethics or detective skillcould get from him. We thanked him and turned to the ticket windowto see how long we should have to wait. 

"Either that doctor doesn't know what he is talking about or he isconcealing something, " remarked Craig, as we paced up and down theplatform. "I am inclined to read the enigma in the latter way. "

Nothing more passed between us during the journey back, and wehurried directly to the laboratory, late as it was. Kennedy hadevidently been revolving something over and over in his mind, forthe moment he had switched on the light, he unlocked one of hisair-and dust-proof cabinets and took from it an instrument whichhe placed on a table before him. 

It was a peculiar-looking instrument, like a round glass electricbattery with a cylinder atop, smaller and sticking up like asafety valve. On that were an arm, a dial, and a lens fixed insuch a way as to read the dial. I could not see what else therather complicated little apparatus consisted of, but inside, whenKennedy brought near it the pole of a static electric machine twodelicate thin leaves of gold seemed to fly wide apart when it wascharged. 

Kennedy had brought the glass tray near the thing. Instantly theleaves collapsed and he made a reading through the lens. 

"What is it?" I asked. 

"A radioscope, " he replied, still observing the scale. "Really avery sensitive gold leaf electroscope, devised by one of thestudents of Madame Curie. This method of detection is far moresensitive even than the spectroscope. "

"What does it mean when the leaves collapse?" I asked. 

"Radium has been near that tray, " he answered. "It is radioactive. I suspected it first when I saw that violet color. That is whatradium does to that kind of glass. You see, if radium exists in agram of inactive matter only to the extent of one in ten-thousandmillion parts its presence can be readily detected by thisradioscope, and everything that has been rendered radioactive isthe same. Ordinarily the air between the gold leaves isinsulating. Bringing something radioactive near them renders theair a good conductor and the leaves fall under the radiation. "

"Wonderful!" I exclaimed, marveling at the delicacy of it. 

"Take radium water, " he went on, "sufficiently impregnated withradium emanations to be luminous in the dark, like that water ofDenison's. It would do the same. In fact all mineral waters andthe so-called curarive muds like fango are slightly radioactive. There seems to be a little radium everywhere on earth thatexperiments have been made, even in the interiors of buildings. Itis ubiquitous. We are surrounded and permeated by radiations--thatsoil out there on the campus, the air of this room, all. But, " headded contemplatively, "there is something different about thattray. A lot of radium has been near that, and recently. "

"How about that bandage about Haughton's neck?" I asked suddenly. "Do you think radium could have had anything to do with that?""Well, as to burns, there is no particular immediate effectusually, and sometimes even up to two weeks or more, unless theexposure has been long and to a considerable quantity. Of courseradium keeps itself three or four degrees warmer than other thingsabout it constantly. But that isn't what does the harm. It iscontinually emitting little corpuscles, which I'll explain someother time, traveling all the way from twenty to one hundred andthirty thousand miles a second, and these corpuscles blister andcorrode the flesh like quick-moving missiles bombarding it. Thegravity of such lesions increases with the purity of the radium. For instance I have known an exposure of half an hour to acomparatively small quantity through a tube, a box and the clothesto produce a blister fifteen days later. Curie said he wouldn'ttrust himself in a room with a kilogram of it. It would destroyhis eyesight, burn off his skin and kill him eventually. Why, evenafter a slight exposure your clothes are radioactive--theelectroscope will show that. "

He was still fumbling with the glass plate and the variousarticles on it. 

"There's something very peculiar about all this, " he muttered, almost to himself. 

Tired by the quick succession of events of the past two days, Ileft Kennedy still experimenting in his laboratory and retired, still wondering when the real clue was to develop. Who could ithave been who bore the tell-tale burn? Was the mark hidden by thebandage about Haughton's neck the brand of the stolen tubes? Orwere there other marks on his body which we could not see?

No answer came to me, and I fell asleep and woke up without aradiation of light on the subject. Kennedy spent the greater partof the day still at work at his laboratory, performing some verydelicate experiments. Finding nothing to do there, I went down tothe Star office and spent my time reading the reports that came infrom the small army of reporters who had been assigned to run downclues in the case which was the sensation of the moment. I havealways felt my own lips sealed in such cases, until the time camethat the story was complete and Kennedy released me from anyfurther need of silence. The weird and impossible stories whichcame in not only to the Star but to the other papers surely didmake passable copy in this instance, but with my knowledge of thecase I could see that not one of them brought us a step nearer thetruth. 

One thing which uniformly puzzled the newspapers was the illnessof Haughton and his enforced idleness at a time which was of somuch importance to the company which he had promoted and indeedvery largely financed. Then, of course, there was the romanticside of his engagement to Felicie Woods. 

Just what connection Felicie Woods had with the radium robbery ifany, I was myself unable quite to fathom. Still, that made nodifference to the papers. She was pretty and therefore theypublished her picture, three columns deep, with Haughton andDenison, who were intimately concerned with the real loss inlittle ovals perhaps an inch across and two inches in the oppositedimension. 

The late afternoon news editions had gone to press, and I hadgiven up in despair, determined to go up to the laboratory and sitaround idly watching Kennedy with his mystifying experiments, inpreference to waiting for him to summon me. 

I had scarcely arrived and settled myself to an impatient watch, when an automobile drove up furiously, and Denison himself, veryexcited, jumped out and dashed into the laboratory. 

"What's the matter?" asked Kennedy, looking up from a test tubewhich he had been examining, with an air for all the worldexpressive of "Why so hot, little man?"

"I've had a threat, " ejaculated Denison. 

He laid on one of the laboratory tables a letter, without headingand without signature, written in a disguised hand, with anevident attempt to simulate the cramped script of a foreignpenmanship. 

"I know who did the Pittsburgh job. The same party is out to ruinFederal Radium. Remember Pittsburgh and be prepared!

"A STOCKHOLDER. "

"Well?" demanded Kennedy, looking up. 

"That can have only one meaning, " asserted Denison. 

"What is that?" inquired Kennedy coolly, as if to confirm his owninterpretation. 

"Why, another robbery--here in New York, of course. "

"But who would do it?" I asked. 

"Who?" repeated Denison. "Some one representing that Europeancombine, of course. That is only part of the Trust method--ruin ofcompetitors whom they cannot absorb. "

"Then you have refused to go into the combine? You know who isbacking it?"

"No--no, " admitted Denison reluctantly. "We have only signifiedour intent to go it alone, as often as anyone either with orwithout authority has offered to buy us out. No, I do not evenknow who the people are. They never act in the open. The onlyhints I have ever received were through perfectly reputablebrokers acting for others. "

"Does Haughton know of this note?" asked Kennedy. 

"Yes. As soon as I received it, I called him up. "

"What did he say?"

"He said to disregard it. But--you know what condition he is in. Idon't know what to do, whether to surround the office by a squadof detectives or remove the radium to a regular safety depositvault, even at the loss of the emanation. Haughton has left it tome. "

Suddenly the thought flashed across my mind that perhaps Haughtoncould act in this uninterested fashion because he had no fear ofruin either way. Might he not be playing a game with thecombination in which he had protected himself so that he wouldwin, no matter what happened?

"What shall I do?" asked Denison. "It is getting late. "

"Neither, " decided Kennedy. 

Denison shook his head. "No, " he said, "I shall have some onewatch there, anyhow. "

CHAPTER XV

THE ASPHYXIATING SAFE

Denison had scarcely gone to arrange for some one to watch theoffice that night, when Kennedy, having gathered up his radioscopeand packed into a parcel a few other things from various cabinets, announced: "Walter, I must see that Miss Wallace, right away. Denison has already given me her address. Call a cab while Ifinish clearing up here. I don't like the looks of this thing, even if Haughton does neglect it. "

We found Miss Wallace at a modest boarding-house in an old butstill respectable part of the city. She was a very pretty girl, ofthe slender type, rather a business woman than one given much toamusement. She had been ill and was still ill. That was evidentfrom the solicitous way in which the motherly landlady scrutinizedtwo strange callers. 

Kennedy presented a card from Denison, and she came down to theparlor to see us. 

"Miss Wallace, " began Kennedy, "I know it is almost cruel totrouble you when you are not feeling like office work, but sincethe robbery of the safe at Pittsburgh, there have been threats ofa robbery of the New York office. "

She started involuntarily, and it was evident, I thought, that shewas in a very high-strung state. 

"Oh, " she cried, "why, the loss means ruin to Mr. Denison!"

There were genuine tears in her eyes as she said it. 

"I thought you would be willing to aid us, " pursued Kennedysympathetically. "Now, for one thing, I want to be perfectly surejust how much radium the Corporation owns, or rather owned beforethe first robbery. "

"The books will show it, " she said simply. 

"They will?" commented Kennedy. "Then if you will explain to mebriefly just the system you used in keeping account of it, perhapsI need not trouble you any more. "

"I'll go down there with you, " she answered bravely. "I'm betterto-day, anyhow, I think. "

She had risen, but it was evident that she was not as strong asshe wanted us to think. 

"The least I can do is to make it as easy as possible by going ina car, " remarked Kennedy, following her into the hall where therewas a telephone. 

The hallway was perfectly dark, yet as she preceded us I could seethat the diamond pin which held her collar in the back sparkled asif a lighted candle had been brought near it. I had noticed in theparlor that she wore a handsome tortoiseshell comb set with what Ithought were other brilliants, but when I looked I saw now thatthere was not the same sparkle to the comb which held her darkhair in a soft mass. I noticed these little things at the time, not because I thought they had any importance, but merely bychance, wondering at the sparkle of the one diamond which hadcaught my eye. 

"What do you make of her?" I asked as Kennedy finishedtelephoning. 

"A very charming and capable girl, " he answered noncommittally. 

"Did you notice how that diamond in her neck sparkled?" I askedquickly. 

He nodded. Evidently it had attracted his attention, too. 

"What makes it?" I pursued. 

"Well, you know radium rays will make a diamond fluoresce in thedark. "

"Yes, " I objected, "but how about those in the comb?"

"Paste, probably, " he answered tersely, as we heard her foot onthe landing. "The rays won't affect paste. "

It was indeed a shame to take advantage of Miss Wallace's loyaltyto Denison, but she was so game about it that I knew only theutmost necessity on Kennedy's part would have prompted him to doit. She had a key to the office so that it was not necessary towait for Denison, if indeed we could have found him. 

Together she and Kennedy went over the records. It seemed thatthere were in the safe twenty-five platinum tubes of one hundredmilligrams each, and that there had been twelve of the same amountat Pittsburgh. Little as it seemed in weight it represented afabulous fortune. 

"You have not the combination?" inquired Kennedy. 

"No. Only Mr. Denison has that. What are you going to do toprotect the safe to-night?" she asked. 

"Nothing especially, " evaded Kennedy. 

"Nothing?" she repeated in amazement. 

"I have another plan, " he said, watching her intently. "MissWallace, it was too much to ask you to come down here. You areill. "

She was indeed quite pale, as if the excitement had been anoverexertion. 

"No, indeed, " she persisted. Then, feeling her own weakness, shemoved toward the door of Denison's office where there was aleather couch. "Let me rest here a moment. I do feel queer. I--"

She would have fallen if he had not sprung forward and caught heras she sank to the floor, overcome by the exertion. 

Together we carried her in to the couch, and as we did so the combfrom her hair clattered to the floor. 

Craig threw open the window, and bathed her face with water untilthere was a faint flutter of the eyelids. 

"Walter, " he said, as she began to revive, "I leave her to you. Keep her quiet for a few moments. She has unintentionally given mejust the opportunity I want. "

While she was yet hovering between consciousness andunconsciousness on the couch, he had unwrapped the package whichhe had brought with him. For a moment he held the comb which shehad dropped near the radioscope. With a low exclamation ofsurprise he shoved it into his pocket. 

Then from the package he drew a heavy piece of apparatus whichlooked as if it might be the motor part of an electric fan, onlyin place of the fan he fitted a long, slim, vicious-looking steelbit. A flexible wire attached the thing to the electric lightcircuit and I knew that it was an electric drill. With his coatoff he tugged at the little radium safe until he had moved it out, then dropped on his knees behind it and switched the current on inthe electric drill. 

It was a tedious process to drill through the steel of the outercasing of the safe and it was getting late. I shut the door to theoffice so that Miss Wallace could not see. 

At last by the cessation of the low hum of the boring, I knew thathe had struck the inner lead lining. Quietly I opened the door andstepped out. He was injecting something from an hermeticallysealed lead tube into the opening he had made and allowing it torun between the two linings of lead and steel. Then using the tubeitself he sealed the opening he had made and dabbed a little blackover it. 

Quickly he shoved the safe back, then around it concealed severalsmall coils with wires also concealed and leading out through awindow to a court. 

"We'll catch the fellow this time, " he remarked as he worked. "Ifyou ever have any idea, Walter, of going into the burglarybusiness, it would be well to ascertain if the safes have any ofthese little selenium cells as suggested by my friend, Mr. Hammer, the inventor. For by them an alarm can be given miles away themoment an intruder's bull's-eye falls on a hidden cell sensitiveto light. "

While I was delegated to take Miss Wallace home, Kennedy madearrangements with a small shopkeeper on the ground floor of abuilding that backed up on the court for the use of his back roomthat night, and had already set up a bell actuated by a system ofrelays which the weak current from the selenium cells couldoperate. 

It was not until nearly midnight that he was ready to leave thelaboratory again, where he had been busily engaged in studying thetortoiseshell comb which Miss Wallace in her weakness hadforgotten. 

The little shopkeeper let us in sleepily and Kennedy deposited alarge round package on a chair in the back of the shop, as well asa long piece of rubber tubing. Nothing had happened so far. 

As we waited the shopkeeper, now wide awake and not at allunconvinced that we were bent on some criminal operation, hungaround. Kennedy did not seem to care. He drew from his pocket alittle shiny brass instrument in a lead case, which looked like anabbreviated microscope. 

"Look through it, " he said, handing it to me. 

I looked and could see thousands of minute sparks. 

"What is it?" I asked. 

"A spinthariscope. In that it is possible to watch the bombardmentof the countless little corpuscles thrown off by radium, as theystrike on the zinc blende crystal which forms the base. Whenradium was originally discovered, the interest was merely in itscurious properties, its power to emit invisible rays whichpenetrated solid substances and rendered things fluorescent, ofexpending energy without apparent loss. 

"Then came the discovery, " he went on, "of its curative powers. But the first results were not convincing. Still, now that we knowthe reasons why radium may be dangerous and how to protectourselves against them we know we possess one of the mostwonderful of curative agencies. "

I was thinking rather of the dangers than of the beneficence ofradium just now, but Kennedy continued. 

"It has cured many malignant growths that seemed hopeless, broughtback destroyed cells, exercised good effects in diseases of theliver and intestines and even the baffling diseases of thearteries. The reason why harm, at first, as well as good came, isnow understood. Radium emits, as I told you before, three kinds ofrays, the alpha, beta, and gamma rays, each with differentproperties. The emanation is another matter. It does not concernus in this case, as you will see. "

Fascinated as I was by the mystery of the case, I began to seethat he was gradually arriving at an explanation which had baffledeveryone else. 

"Now, the alpha rays are the shortest, " he launched forth, "inlength let us say one inch. They exert a very destructive effecton healthy tissue. That is the cause of injury. They are stoppedby glass, aluminum and other metals, and are really particlescharged with positive electricity. The beta rays come next, say, about an inch and a half. They stimulate cell growth. Thereforethey are dangerous in cancer, though good in other ways. They canbe stopped by lead, and are really particles charged with negativeelectricity. The gamma rays are the longest, perhaps three incheslong, and it is these rays which effect cures, for they check theabnormal and stimulate the normal cells. They penetrate lead. Leadseems to filter them out from the other rays. And at three inchesthe other rays don't reach, anyhow. The gamma rays are not chargedwith electricity at all, apparently. "

He had brought a little magnet near the spinthariscope. I lookedinto it. 

"A magnet, " he explained, "shows the difference between the alpha, beta, and gamma rays. You see those weak and wobbly rays that seemto fall to one side? Those are the alpha rays. They have a strongaction, though, on tissues and cells. Those falling in the otherdirection are the beta rays. The gamma rays seem to flowstraight. "

"Then it is the alpha rays with which we are concerned mostlynow?" I queried, looking up. 

"Exactly. That is why, when radium is unprotected orinsufficiently protected and comes too near, it is destructive ofhealthy cells, produces burns, sores, which are most difficult toheal. It is with the explanation of such sores that we must deal. "

It was growing late. We had waited patiently now for some time. Kennedy had evidently reserved this explanation, knowing we shouldhave to wait. Still nothing happened. 

Added to the mystery of the violet-colored glass plate was nowthat of the luminescent diamond. I was about to ask Kennedy point-blank what he thought of them, when suddenly the little bellbefore us began to buzz feebly under the influence of a current. 

I gave a start. The faithful little selenium cell burglar alarmhad done the trick. I knew that selenium was a good conductor ofelectricity in the light, poor in the dark. Some one had, therefore, flashed a light on one of the cells in the Corporationoffice. It was the moment for which Kennedy had prepared. 

Seizing the round package and the tubing, he dashed out on thestreet and around the corner. He tried the door opening into theRadium Corporation hallway. It was closed, but unlocked. As ityielded and we stumbled in, up the old worn wooden stairs of thebuilding, I knew that there must be some one there. 

A terrific, penetrating, almost stunning odor seemed to permeatethe air even in the hall. 

Kennedy paused at the door of the office, tried it, found itunlocked, but did not open it. 

"That smell is ethyldichloracetate, " he explained. "That was whatI injected into the air cushion of that safe between the twolinings. I suppose my man here used an electric drill. He mighthave used thermit or an oxyacetylene blowpipe for all I wouldcare. These fumes would discourage a cracksman from 'soup' tonuts, " he laughed, thoroughly pleased at the protection modernscience had enabled him to devise. 

As we stood an instant by the door, I realized what had happened. We had captured our man. He was asphyxiated!

Yet how were we to get to him? Would Craig leave him in there, perhaps to die? To go in ourselves meant to share his fate, whatever might be the effect of the drug. 

Kennedy had torn the wrapping off the package. From it he drew ahuge globe with bulging windows of glass in the front and severalcurious arrangements on it at other points. To it he fitted therubber tubing and a little pump. Then he placed the globe over hishead, like a diver's helmet, and fastened some air-tight rubberarrangement about his neck and shoulders. 

"Pump, Walter I" he shouted. "This is an oxygen helmet such as isused in entering mines filled with deadly gases. "

Without another word he was gone into the blackness of the noxiousstifle which filled the Radium Corporation office since thecracksman had struck the unexpected pocket of rapidly evaporatingstuff. 

I pumped furiously. 

Inside I could hear him blundering around. What was he doing?

He was coming back slowly. Was he, too, overcome?

As he emerged into the darkness of the hallway where I myself wasalmost sickened, I saw that he was dragging with him a limp form. 

A rush of outside air from the street door seemed to clear thingsa little. Kennedy tore off the oxygen helmet and dropped down onhis knees beside the figure, working its arms in the most approvedmanner of resuscitation. 

"I think we can do it without calling on the pulmotor, " he panted. "Walter, the fumes have cleared away enough now in the outsideoffice. Open a window--and keep that street door open, too. "

I did so, found the switch and turned on the lights. 

It was Denison himself!

For many minutes Kennedy worked over him. I bent down, loosenedhis collar and shirt, and looked eagerly at his chest for thetell-tale marks of the radium which I felt sure must be there. There was not even a discoloration. 

Not a word was said, as Kennedy brought the stupefied little manaround. 

Denison, pale, shaken, was leaning back now in a big office chair, gasping and holding his head. 

Kennedy, before him, reached down into his pocket and handed himthe spinthariscope. 

"You see that?" he demanded. 

Denison looked through the eyepiece. 

"Wh--where did you get so much of it?" he asked, a queer look onhis face. 

"I got that bit of radium from the base of the collar button ofHartley Haughton, " replied Kennedy quietly, "a collar button whichsome one intimate with him had substituted for his own, bringingthat deadly radium with only the minutest protection of a thinstrip of metal close to the back of his neck, near the spinal cordand the medulla oblongata which controls blood pressure. Thatcollar button was worse than the poisoned rings of the Borgias. And there is more radium in the pretty gift of a tortoiseshellcomb with its paste diamonds which Miss Wallace wore in her hair. Only a fraction of an inch, not enough to cut off the deadly alpharays, protected the wearers of those articles. "

He paused a moment, while surging through my mind came one afteranother the explanations of the hitherto inexplicable. Denisonseemed almost to cringe in the chair, weak already from the fumes. 

"Besides, " went on Kennedy remorselessly, "when I went in there todrag you out, I saw the safe open. I looked. There was nothing inthose pretty platinum tubes, as I suspected. European trust--bah!All the cheap devices of a faker with a confederate in London tosend a cablegram--and another in New York to send a threateningletter. "

Kennedy extended an accusing forefinger at the man cowering beforehim. 

"This is nothing but a get-rich-quick scheme, Denison. There neverwas a milligram of radium in the Poor Little Rich Valley, not amilligram here in all the carefully kept reports of Miss Wallace--except what was bought outside by the Corporation with the moneyit collected from its dupes. Haughton has been fleeced. MissWallace, blinded by her loyalty to you--you will always find sucha faithful girl in such schemes as yours--has been fooled. 

"And how did you repay it? What was cleverer, you said toyourself, than to seem to be robbed of what you never had, toblame it on a bitter rival who never existed? Then to makeassurance doubly sure, you planned to disable, perhaps get rid ofthe come-on whom you had trimmed, and the faithful girl whose eyesyou had blinded to your gigantic swindle. 

"Denison, " concluded Kennedy, as the man drew back, his very faceconvicting him, "Denison, you are the radium robber--robber inanother sense!"

CHAPTER XVI

THE DEAD LINE

Maiden Lane, no less than Wall Street, was deeply interested inthe radium case. In fact, it seemed that one case in this sectionof the city led to another. 

Naturally, the Star and the other papers made much of the captureof Denison. Still, I was not prepared for the host of Maiden Lanecases that followed. Many of them were essentially trivial. Butone proved to be of extreme importance. 

"Professor Kennedy, I have just heard of your radium case, and I--I feel that I can--trust you. "

There was a note of appeal in the hesitating voice of the tall, heavily veiled woman whose card had been sent up to us with anervous "Urgent" written across its face. 

It was very early in the morning, but our visitor was evidentlycompletely unnerved by some news which she had just received andwhich had sent her posting to see Craig. 

Kennedy met her gaze directly with a look that arrested herinvoluntary effort to avoid it again. She must have read in hiseyes more than in his words that she might trust him. 

"I--I have a confession to make, " she faltered. 

"Please sit down, Mrs. Moulton, " he said simply. "It is mybusiness to receive confidences--and to keep them. "

She sank into, rather than sat down in, the deep leather rockerbeside his desk, and now for the first time raised her veil. 

Antoinette Moulton was indeed stunning, an exquisite creature witha wonderful charm of slender youth, brightness of eye and brunetteradiance. 

I knew that she had been on the musical comedy stage and had had arapid rise to a star part before her marriage to Lynn Moulton, thewealthy lawyer, almost twice her age. I knew also that she hadgiven up the stage, apparently without a regret. Yet there wassomething strange about the air of secrecy of her visit. Was therea hint in it of a disagreement between the Moultons, I wondered, as I waited while Kennedy reassured her. 

Her distress was so unconcealed that Craig, for the moment, laidaside his ordinary inquisitorial manner. "Tell me just as much orjust as little as you choose, Mrs. Moulton, " he added tactfully. "I will do my best. "

A look almost of gratitude crossed her face. 

"When we were married, " she began again, "my husband gave me abeautiful diamond necklace. Oh, it must have been worth a hundredthousand dollars easily. It was splendid. Everyone has heard ofit. You know, Lynn--er--Mr. Moulton, has always been anenthusiastic collector of jewels. "

She paused again and Kennedy nodded reassuringly. I knew thethought in his mind. Moulton had collected one gem that wasincomparable with all the hundred thousand dollar necklaces inexistence. 

"Several months ago. " she went on rapidly, still avoiding his eyesand forcing the words from her reluctant lips, "I--oh, I neededmoney--terribly. "

She had risen and faced him, pressing her daintily gloved handstogether in a little tremble of emotion which was none the lessgenuine because she had studied the art of emotion. 

"I took the necklace to a jeweler, Herman Schloss, of Maiden Lane, a man with whom my husband had often had dealings and whom Ithought I could trust. Under a promise of secrecy he loaned mefifty thousand dollars on it and had an exact replica in pastemade by one of his best workmen. This morning, just now, Mr. Schloss telephoned me that his safe had been robbed last night. Mynecklace is gone!"

She threw out her hands in a wildly appealing gesture. 

"And if Lynn finds that the necklace in our wall safe is of paste--as he will find, for he is an expert in diamonds--oh--what shallI do? Can't you--can't you find my necklace?"

Kennedy was following her now eagerly. "You were blackmailed outof the money?" he queried casually, masking his question. 

There was a sudden, impulsive drooping of her mouth, an evasionand keen wariness in her eyes. "I can't see that that has anythingto do with the robbery, " she answered in a low voice. 

"I beg your pardon, " corrected Kennedy quickly. "Perhaps not. I'msorry. Force of habit, I suppose. You don't know anything moreabout the robbery?"

"N--no, only that it seems impossible that it could have happenedin a place that has the wonderful burglar alarm protection thatMr. Schloss described to me. "

"You know him pretty well?"

"Only through this transaction, " she replied hastily. "I wish toheaven I had never heard of him. "

The telephone rang insistently. 

"Mrs. Moulton, " said Kennedy, as he returned the receiver to thehook, "it may interest you to know that the burglar alarm companyhas just called me up about the same case. If I had need of anadded incentive, which I hope you will believe I have not, thatmight furnish it. I will do my best, " he repeated. 

"Thank you--a thousand times, " she cried fervently, and, had Ibeen Craig, I think I should have needed no more thanks than thelook she gave him as he accompanied her to the door of ourapartment. 

It was still early and the eager crowds were pushing their way tobusiness through the narrow network of downtown streets as Kennedyand I entered a large office on lower Broadway in the heart of thejewelry trade and financial district. 

"One of the most amazing robberies that has ever been attemptedhas been reported to us this morning, " announced James McLear, manager of the Hale Electric Protection, adding with a look halfof anxiety, half of skepticism, "that is, if it is true. "

McLear was a stocky man, of powerful build and voice and a generalappearance of having been once well connected with the citydetective force before an attractive offer had taken him into thisposition of great responsibility. 

"Herman Schloss, one of the best known of Maiden Lane jewelers, "he continued, "has been robbed of goods worth two or three hundredthousand dollars--and in spite of every modern protection. So thatyou will get it clearly, let me show you what we do here. "

He ushered us into a large room, on the walls of which werehundreds of little indicators. From the front they looked likerows of little square compartments, tier on tier, about the sizeof ordinary post office boxes. Closer examination showed that eachwas equipped with a delicate needle arranged to oscillate backwardand forward upon the very minutest interference with the electriccurrent. Under the boxes, each of which bore a number, was aseries of drops and buzzers numbered to correspond with the boxes. 

"In nearly every office in Maiden Lane where gems and valuablejewelry are stored, " explained McLear, "this electrical system ofours is installed. When the safes are closed at night and thedoors swung together, a current of electricity is constantlyshooting around the safes, conducted by cleverly concealed wires. These wires are picked up by a cable system which finds its way tothis central office. Once here, the wires are safeguarded in suchmanner that foreign currents from other wires or from lightningcannot disturb the system. "

We looked with intense interest at this huge electrical pulse thatfelt every change over so vast and rich an area. 

"Passing a big dividing board, " he went on, "they are distributedand connected each in its place to the delicate tangentgalvanometers and sensitive indicators you see in this room. Theseinstantly announce the most minute change in the working of thecurrent, and each office has a distinct separate metallic circuit. Why, even a hole as small as a lead pencil in anything protectedwould sound the alarm here. "

Kennedy nodded appreciatively. 

"You see, " continued McLear, glad to be able to talk to one whofollowed him so closely, "it is another evidence of sciencefinding for us greater security in the use of a tiny electric wirethan in massive walls of steel and intricate lock devices. Buthere is a case in which, it seems, every known protection hasfailed. We can't afford to pass that by. If we have fallen down wewant to know how, as well as to catch the burglar. "

"How are the signals given?" I asked. 

"Well, when the day's business is over, for instance, Schlosswould swing the heavy safe doors together and over them place thedoors of a wooden cabinet. That signals an alarm to us here. Weanswer it and if the proper signal is returned, all right. Afterthat no one can tamper with the safe later in the night withoutsounding an alarm that would bring a quick investigation. "

"But suppose that it became necessary to open the safe before thenext morning. Might not some trusted employee return to theoffice, open it, give the proper signals and loot the safe?"

"No indeed, " he answered confidently. "The very moment anyonetouches the cabinet, the alarm is sounded. Even if the proper codesignal is returned, it is not sufficient. A couple of our trustedmen from the central office hustle around there anyhow and theydon't leave until they are satisfied that everything is right. Wehave the authorized signatures on hand of those who are supposedto open the safe and a duplicate of one of them must be given orthere is an arrest. "

McLear considered for a moment. 

"For instance, Schloss, like all the rest, was assigned a box inwhich was deposited a sealed envelope containing a key to theoffice and his own signature, in this case, since he alone knewthe combination. Now, when an alarm is sounded, as it was lastnight, and the key removed to gain entrance to the office, arecord is made and the key has to be sealed up again by Schloss. Areport is also submitted showing when the signals are received andanything else that is worth recording. Last night our men foundnothing wrong, apparently. But this morning we learn of therobbery. "

"The point is, then, " ruminated Kennedy, "what happened in theinterval between the ringing of the alarm and the arrival of thespecial officers? I think I'll drop around and look Schloss' placeover, " he added quietly, evidently eager to begin at the actualscene of the crime. 

On the door of the office to which McLear took us was one of thosesmall blue plates which chance visitors to Maiden Lane must haveseen often. To the initiated--be he crook or jeweler--this simplesign means that the merchant is a member of the Jewelers' SecurityAlliance, enough in itself, it would seem, to make the boldestburglar hesitate. For it is the motto of this organization to"get" the thief at any cost and at any time. Still, it had notdeterred the burglar in this instance. 

"I know people are going to think it is a fake burglary, "exclaimed Schloss, a stout, prosperous-looking gem broker, as weintroduced ourselves. "But over two hundred thousands dollars'worth of stones are gone, " he half groaned. "Think of it, man, " headded, "one of the greatest robberies since the Dead Line wasestablished. And if they can get away with it, why, no one downhere is protected any more. Half a billion dollars in jewels inMaiden Lane and John Street are easy prey for the cracksmen!"

Staggering though the loss must have been to him, he hadapparently recovered from the first shock of the discovery and hadbegun the fight to get back what had been lost. 

It was, as McLear had intimated, a most amazing burglary, too. Thedoor of Schloss' safe was open when Kennedy and I arrived andfound the excited jeweler nervously pacing the office. Surroundingthe safe, I noticed a wooden framework constructed in such a wayas to be a part of the decorative scheme of the office. 

Schloss banged the heavy doors shut. 

"There, that's just how it was--shut as tight as a drum. There wasabsolutely no mark of anyone tampering with the combination lock. And yet the safe was looted!"

"How did you discover it?" asked Craig. "I presume you carryburglary insurance?"

Schloss looked up quickly. "That's what I expected as a firstquestion. No, I carried very little insurance. You see, I thoughtthe safe, one of those new chrome steel affairs, was aboutimpregnable. I never lost a moment's sleep over it; didn't thinkit possible for anyone to get into it. For, as you see, it iscompletely wired by the Hale Electric Protection--that woodenframework about it. No one could touch that when it was setwithout jangling a bell at the central office which would send menscurrying here to protect the place. "

"But they must have got past it, " suggested Kennedy. 

"Yes--they must have. At least this morning I received the regularHale report. It said that their wires registered last night asthough some one was tampering with the safe. But by the time theygot around, in less than five minutes, there was no one here, nothing seemed to be disturbed. So they set it down to inductionor electrolysis, or something the matter with the wires. I got thereport the first thing when I arrived here with my assistant, Muller. "

Kennedy was on his knees, going over the safe with a fine brushand some powder, looking now and then through a small magnifyingglass. 

"Not a finger print, " he muttered. "The cracksman must have worngloves. But how did he get in? There isn't a mark of 'soup' havingbeen used to blow it up, nor of a 'can-opener' to rip it open, ifthat were possible, nor of an electric or any other kind ofdrill. "

"I've read of those fellows who burn their way in, " said Schloss. 

"But there is no hole, " objected Kennedy, "not a trace of the useof thermit to burn the way in or of the oxyacetylene blowpipe tocut a piece out. Most extraordinary, " he murmured. 

"You see, " shrugged Schloss, "everyone will say it must have beenopened by one who knew the combination. But I am the only one. Ihave never written it down or told anyone, not even Muller. Youunderstand what I am up against?"

"There's the touch system, " I suggested. "You remember, Craig, theold fellow who used to file his finger tips to the quick untilthey were so sensitive that he could actually feel when he hadturned the combination to the right plunger? Might not thatexplain the lack of finger prints also?" I added eagerly. 

"Nothing like that in this case, Walter, " objected Craigpositively. "This fellow wore gloves, all right. No, this safe hasbeen opened and looted by no ordinarily known method. It's themost amazing case I ever saw in that respect--almost as if we hada cracksman in the fourth dimension to whom the inside of a closedcube is as accessible as is the inside of a plane square to usthree dimensional creatures. It is almost incomprehensible. "

I fancied I saw Schloss' face brighten as Kennedy took this view. So far, evidently, he had run across only skepticism. 

"The stones were unset?" resumed Craig. 

"Mostly. Not all. "

"You would recognize some of them if you saw them?"

"Yes indeed. Some could be changed only by re-cutting. Even someof those that were set were of odd cut and size--some from adiamond necklace which belonged to a--"

There was something peculiar in both his tone and manner as he cutshort the words. 

"To whom?" asked Kennedy casually. 

"Oh, once to a well-known woman in society, " he said carefully. "It is mine, though, now--at least it was mine. I should prefer tomention no names. I will give a description of the stones. "

"Mrs. Lynn Moulton, for instance?" suggested Craig quietly. 

Schloss jumped almost as if a burglar alarm had sounded under hisvery ears. "How did you know? Yes--but it was a secret. I made alarge loan on it, and the time has expired. "

"Why did she need money so badly?" asked Kennedy. 

"How should I know?" demanded Schloss. 

Here was a deepening mystery, not to be elucidated by continuingthis line of inquiry with Schloss, it seemed. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE PASTE REPLICA

Carefully Craig was going over the office. Outside of the safe, there had apparently been nothing of value. The rest of the officewas not even wired, and it seemed to have been Schloss' idea thatthe few thousands of burglary insurance amply protected himagainst such loss. As for the safe, its own strength and thecareful wiring might well have been considered quite sufficientunder any hitherto to-be-foreseen circumstances. 

A glass door, around the bend of a partition, opened from thehallway into the office and had apparently been designed with theobject of making visible the safe so that anyone passing might seewhether an intruder was tampering with it. 

Kennedy had examined the door, perhaps in the expectation offinding finger prints there, and was passing on to other things, when a change in his position caused his eye to catch a large ovalsmudge on the glass, which was visible when the light struck it atthe right angle. Quickly he dusted it over with the powder, andbrought out the detail more clearly. As I examined it, while Craigmade preparations to cut out the glass to preserve it, it seemedto contain a number of minute points and several more or lessbroken parallel lines. The edges gradually trailed off into anindistinct faintness. 

Business, naturally, was at a standstill, and as we were workingnear the door, we could see that the news of Schloss' strangerobbery had leaked out and was spreading rapidly. Scores ofacquaintances in the trade stopped at the door to inquire aboutthe rumor. 

To each, it seemed that Morris Muller, the working jeweleremployed by Schloss, repeated the same story. 

"Oh, " he said, "it is a big loss--yes--but big as it is, it willnot break Mr. Schloss. And, " he would add with the tradesman'sidea of humor, "I guess he has enough to play a game of poker--eh?"

"Poker?" asked Kennedy smiling. "Is he much of a player?"

"Yes. Nearly every night with his friends he plays. "

Kennedy made a mental note of it. Evidently Schloss trusted Mullerimplicitly. He seemed like a partner, rather than an employee, even though he had not been entrusted with the secret combination. 

Outside, we ran into city detective Lieutenant Winters, theofficer who was stationed at the Maiden Lane post, guarding thatfamous section of the Dead Line established by the immortal Byrnesat Fulton Street, below which no crook was supposed to dare evento be seen. Winters had been detailed on the case. 

"You have seen the safe in there?" asked Kennedy, as he wasleaving to carry on his investigation elsewhere. 

Winters seemed to be quite as skeptical as Schloss had intimatedthe public would be. "Yes, " he replied, "there's been an epidemicof robbery with the dull times--people who want to collect theirburglary insurance, I guess. "

"But, " objected Kennedy, "Schloss carried so little. "

"Well, there was the Hale Protection. How about that?"

Craig looked up quickly, unruffled by the patronizing air of theprofessional toward the amateur detective. 

"What is your theory?" he asked. "Do you think he robbed himself?"

Winters shrugged his shoulders. "I've been interested in Schlossfor some time, " he said enigmatically. "He has had some prettyswell customers. I'll keep you wised up, if anything happens, " headded in a burst of graciousness, walking off. 

On the way to the subway, we paused again to see McLear. 

"Well, " he asked, "what do you think of it, now?"

"All most extraordinary, " ruminated Craig. "And the queerestfeature of all is that the chief loss consists of a diamondnecklace that belonged once to Mrs. Antoinette Moulton. "

"Mrs. Lynn Moulton?" repeated McLear. 

"The same, " assured Kennedy. 

McLear appeared somewhat puzzled. "Her husband is one of our oldsubscribers, " he pursued. "He is a lawyer on Wall Street and quitea gem collector. Last night his safe was tampered with, but thismorning he reports no loss. Not half an hour ago he had us on thewire congratulating us on scaring off the burglars, if there hadbeen any. "

"What is your opinion, " I asked. "Is there a gang operating?"

"My belief is, " he answered, reminiscently of his days on thedetective force, "that none of the loot will be recovered untilthey start to 'fence' it. That would be my lay--to look for thefence. Why, think of all the big robberies that have been pulledoff lately. Remember, " he went on, "the spoils of a burglaryconsist generally of precious stones. They are not currency. Theymust be turned into currency--or what's the use of robbery?

"But merely to offer them for sale at an ordinary jeweler's wouldbe suspicious. Even pawnbrokers are on the watch. You see what Iam driving at? I think there is a man or a group of men whosebusiness it is to pay cash for stolen property and who have waysof returning gems into the regular trade channels. In all theserobberies we get a glimpse of as dark and mysterious a criminal ashas ever been recorded. He may be--anybody. About his legitimacy, I believe, no question has ever been raised. And, I tell you, hisarrest is going to create a greater sensation than even theremarkable series of robberies that he has planned or madepossible. The question is, to my mind, who is this fence?"

McLear's telephone rang and he handed the instrument to Craig. 

"Yes, this is Professor Kennedy, " answered Craig. "Oh, too badyou've had to try all over to get me. I've been going from oneplace to another gathering clues and have made good progress, considering I've hardly started. Why--what's the matter? Really?"

An interval followed, during which McLear left to answer apersonal call on another wire. 

As Kennedy hung up the receiver, his face wore a peculiar look. "It was Mrs. Moulton, " he blurted out. "She thinks that herhusband has found out that the necklace is paste. "

"How?" I asked. 

"The paste replica is gone from her wall safe in the Deluxe. "

I turned, startled at the information. Even Kennedy himself wasperplexed at the sudden succession of events. I had nothing tosay. 

Evidently, however, his rule was when in doubt play a trump, for, twenty minutes later found us in the office of Lynn Moulton, thefamous corporation lawyer, in Wall Street. 

Moulton was a handsome man of past fifty with a youthful faceagainst his iron gray hair and mustache, well dressed, genial, aman who seemed keenly in love with the good things of life. 

"It is rumored, " began Kennedy, "that an attempt was made on yoursafe here at the office last night. "

"Yes, " he admitted, taking off his glasses and polishing themcarefully. "I suppose there is no need of concealment, especiallyas I hear that a somewhat similar attempt was made on the safe ofmy friend Herman Schloss in Maiden Lane. "

"You lost nothing?"

Moulton put his glasses on and looked Kennedy in the face frankly. 

"Nothing, fortunately, " he said, then went on slowly. "You see, inmy later years, I have been something of a collector of preciousstones myself. I don't wear them, but I have always taken thekeenest pleasure in owning them and when I was married it gave mea great deal more pleasure to have them set in rings, pendants, tiaras, necklaces, and other forms for my wife. "

He had risen, with the air of a busy man who had given the subjectall the consideration he could afford and whose work proceededalmost by schedule. "This morning I found my safe tampered with, but, as I said, fortunately something must have scared off theburglars. "

He bowed us out politely. What was the explanation, I wondered. Itseemed, on the face of things, that Antoinette Moulton feared herhusband. Did he know something else already, and did she know heknew? To all appearances he took it very calmly, if he did know. Perhaps that was what she feared, his very calmness. 

"I must see Mrs. Moulton again, " remarked Kennedy, as we left. 

The Moultons lived, we found, in one of the largest suites of anew apartment hotel, the Deluxe, and in spite of the fact that ourarrival had been announced some minutes before we saw Mrs. Moulton, it was evident that she had been crying hysterically overthe loss of the paste jewels and what it implied. 

"I missed it this morning, after my return from seeing you, " shereplied in answer to Craig's inquiry, then added, wide-eyed withalarm, "What shall I do? He must have opened the wall safe andfound the replica. I don't dare ask him point-blank. "

"Are you sure he did it?" asked Kennedy, more, I felt, for itsmoral effect on her than through any doubt in his own mind. 

"Not sure. But then the wall safe shows no marks, and the replicais gone. "

"Might I see your jewel case?" he asked. 

"Surely. I'll get it. The wall safe is in Lynn's room. I shallprobably have to fuss a long time with the combination. "

In fact she could not have been very familiar with it for it tookseveral minutes before she returned. Meanwhile, Kennedy, who hadbeen drumming absently on the arms of his chair, suddenly rose andwalked quietly over to a scrap basket that stood beside anescritoire. It had evidently just been emptied, for the rooms musthave been cleaned several hours before. He bent down over it andpicked up two scraps of paper adhering to the wicker work. Therest had evidently been thrown away. 

I bent over to read them. One was:

 --rest Nettie-- --dying to see--

The other read:

 --cherche to-d --love and ma --rman. 

What did it mean? Hastily, I could fill in "Dearest Nettie, " and"I am dying to see you. " Kennedy added, "The Recherche to-day, "that being the name of a new apartment uptown, as well as "loveand many kisses. " But "--rman"--what did that mean? Could it beHerman--Herman Schloss?

She was returning and we resumed our seats quickly. 

Kennedy took the jewel case from her and examined it carefully. There was not a mark on it. 

"Mrs. Moulton, " he said slowly, rising and handing it back to her, "have you told me all?"

"Why--yes, " she answered. 

Kennedy shook his head gravely. 

"I'm afraid not. You must tell me everything. "

"No--no, " she cried vehemently, "there is nothing more. "

We left and outside the Deluxe he paused, looked about, caughtsight of a taxicab and hailed it. 

"Where?" asked the driver. 

"Across the street, " he said, "and wait. Put the window in back ofyou down so I can talk. I'll tell you where to go presently. Now, Walter, sit back as far as you can. This may seem like anunderhand thing to do, but we've got to get what that woman won'ttell us or give up the case. "

Perhaps half an hour we waited, still puzzling over the scraps ofpaper. Suddenly I felt a nudge from Kennedy. Antoinette Moultonwas standing in the doorway across the street. Evidently shepreferred not to ride in her own car, for a moment later sheentered a taxicab. 

"Follow that black cab, " said Kennedy to our driver. 

Sure enough, it stopped in front of the Recherche Apartments andMrs. Moulton stepped out and almost ran in. 

We waited a moment, then Kennedy followed. The elevator that hadtaken her up had just returned to the ground floor. 

"The same floor again, " remarked Kennedy, jauntily stepping in andnodding familiarly to the elevator boy. 

Then he paused suddenly, looked at his watch, fixed his gazethoughtfully on me an instant, and exclaimed. "By George--no. Ican't go up yet. I clean forgot that engagement at the hotel. Onemoment, son. Let us out. We'll be back again. "

Considerably mystified, I followed him to the sidewalk. 

"You're entitled to an explanation, " he laughed catching mybewildered look as he opened the cab door. "I didn't want to go upnow while she is there, but I wanted to get on good terms withthat boy. We'll wait until she comes down, then go up. "

"Where?" I asked. 

"That's what I am going through all this elaborate preparation tofind out. I have no more idea than you have. "

It could not have been more than twenty minutes later when Mrs. Moulton emerged rather hurriedly, and drove away. 

While we had been waiting I had observed a man on the other sideof the street who seemed unduly interested in the Recherche, too, for he had walked up and down the block no less than six times. Kennedy saw him, and as he made no effort to follow Mrs. Moulton, Kennedy did not do so either. In fact a little quick glance whichshe had given at our cab had raised a fear that she might havediscovered that she was being followed. 

Kennedy and I paid off our cabman and sauntered into the Recherchein the most debonair manner we could assume. 

"Now, son, we'll go up, " he said to the boy who, remembering us, and now not at all clear in his mind that he might not have seenus before that, whisked us to the tenth floor. 

"Let me see, " said Kennedy, "it's number one hundred and--er---"

"Three, " prompted the boy. 

He pressed the buzzer and a neatly dressed colored maid responded. 

"I had an appointment here with Mrs. Moulton this morning, "remarked Kennedy. 

"She has just gone, " replied the maid, off her guard. 

"And was to meet Mr. Schloss here in half an hour, " he addedquickly. 

It was the maid's turn to look surprised. 

"I didn't think he was to be here, " she said. "He's had some--"

"Trouble at the office, " supplied Kennedy. "That's what it wasabout. Perhaps he hasn't been able to get away yet. But I had theappointment. Ah, I see a telephone in the hall. May I?"

He had stepped politely in, and by dint of cleverly keeping hisfinger on the hook in the half light, he carried on a one-sidedconversation with himself long enough to get a good chance to lookabout. 

There was an air of quiet and refinement about the apartment inthe Recherche. It was darkened to give the little glowing electricbulbs in their silken shades a full chance to simulate right. Thedeep velvety carpets were noiseless to the foot, and thedraperies, the pictures, the bronzes, all bespoke taste. 

But the chief objects of interest to Craig were the little squaregreen baize-covered tables on one of which lay neatly stacked apile of gilt-edged cards and a mahogany box full of ivory chips ofred, white and blue. 

It was none of the old-time gambling places, like Danfield's, withits steel door which Craig had once cut through with anoxyacetylene blowpipe in order to rescue a young spendthrift fromhimself. 

Kennedy seemed perfectly well satisfied merely with a cursory viewof the place, as he hung up the receiver and thanked the maidpolitely for allowing him to use it. 

"This is up-to-date gambling in cleaned-up New York, " he remarkedas we waited for the elevator to return for us. "And the worst ofit all is that it gets the women as well as the men. Once they arecaught in the net, they are the most powerful lure to men that thegamblers have yet devised. "

We rode down in silence, and as we went down the steps to thestreet, I noticed the man whom we had seen watching the place, lurking down at the lower corner. Kennedy quickened his pace andcame up behind him. 

"Why, Winters!" exclaimed Craig. "You here?"

"I might say the same to you, " grinned the detective notdispleased evidently that our trail had crossed his. "I supposeyou are looking for Schloss, too. He's up in the Recherche a greatdeal, playing poker. I understand he owns an interest in the gameup there. "

Kennedy nodded, but said nothing. 

"I just saw one of the cappers for the place go out before youwent in. "

"Capper?" repeated Kennedy surprised. "Antoinette Moulton asteerer for a gambling joint? What can a rich society woman haveto do with a place like that or a man like Schloss?"

Winters smiled sardonically. "Society ladies to-day often get intoscrapes of which their husbands know nothing, " he remarked. "Youdidn't know before that Antoinette Moulton, like many of herfriends in the smart set, was a gambler--and loser--did you?"

Craig shook his head. He had more of human than scientificinterest in a case of a woman of her caliber gone wrong. 

"But you must have read of the famous Moulton diamonds?"

"Yes, " said Craig, blankly, as if it were all news to him. 

"Schloss has them--or at least had them. The jewels she wore atthe opera this winter were paste, I understand. "

"Does Moulton play?" he asked. 

"I think so--but not here, naturally. In a way, I suppose, it ishis fault. They all do it. The example of one drives on another. "

Instantly there flashed over my mind a host of possibilities. Perhaps, after all, Winters had been right. Schloss had taken thisway to make sure of the jewels so that she could not redeem them. Suddenly another explanation crowded that out. Had Mrs. Moultonrobbed the safe herself, or hired some one else to do it for her, and had that person gone back on her?

Then a horrid possibility occurred to me. Whatever AntoinetteMoulton may have been and done, some one must have her in hispower. What a situation for the woman! My sympathy went out to herin her supreme struggle. Even if it had been a real robbery, Schloss might easily recover from it. But for her every eventspelled ruin and seemed only to be bringing that ruin closer. 

We left Winters, still watching on the trail of Schloss, and wenton uptown to the laboratory. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BURGLAR'S MICROPHONE

That night I was sitting, brooding over the case, while Craig wasstudying a photograph which he made of the smudge on the glassdoor down at Schloss'. He paused in his scrutiny of the print toanswer the telephone. 

"Something has happened to Schloss, " he exclaimed seizing his hatand coat. "Winters has been watching him. He didn't go to theRecherche. Winters wants me to meet him at a place several blocksbelow it Come on. He wouldn't say over the wire what it was. Hurry. "

We met Winters in less than ten minutes at the address he hadgiven, a bachelor apartment in the neighborhood of the Recherche. 

"Schloss kept rooms here, " explained Winters, hurrying us quicklyupstairs. "I wanted you to see before anyone else. "

As we entered the large and luxuriously furnished living room ofthe jeweler's suite, a gruesome sight greeted us. 

There lay Schloss on the floor, face down, in a horribly contortedposition. In one hand, clenched under him partly, the torn sleeveof a woman's dress was grasped convulsively. The room boreunmistakable traces of a violent struggle, but except for thehideous object on the floor was vacant. 

Kennedy bent down over him. Schloss was dead. In a corner, by thedoor, stood a pile of grips, stacked up, packed, and undisturbed. 

Winters who had been studying the room while we got our bearingspicked up a queer-looking revolver from the floor. As he held itup I could see that along the top of the barrel was a longcylinder with a ratchet or catch at the butt end. He turned itover and over carefully. 

"By George, " he muttered, "it has been fired off. "

Kennedy glanced more minutely at the body. There was not a mark onit. I stared about vacantly at the place where Winters had pickedthe thing up. 

"Look, " I cried, my eye catching a little hole in the baseboard ofthe woodwork near it. 

"It must have fallen and exploded on the floor, " remarked Kennedy. "Let me see it, Winters. "

Craig held it at arm's length and pulled the catch. Instead of anexplosion, there came a cone of light from the top of the gun. AsKennedy moved it over the wall, I saw in the center of the circleof light a dark spot. 

"A new invention, " Craig explained. "All you need to do is to moveit so that little dark spot falls directly on an object. Pull the trigger--the bullet strikes the dark spot. Even a nervous and unskilledmarksman becomes a good shot in the dark. He can even shootfrom behind the protection of something--and hit accurately. "

It was too much for me. I could only stand and watch Kennedy as hedeftly bent over Schloss again and placed a piece of chemicallyprepared paper flat on the forehead of the dead man. 

When he withdrew it, I could see that it bore marks of the lineson his head. Without a word, Kennedy drew from his pocket a printof the photograph of the smudge on Schloss' door. 

"It is possible, " he said, half to himself, "to identify a personby means of the arrangement of the sweat glands or pores. Poroscopy, Dr. Edmond Locard, director of the Police Laboratory atLyons, calls it. The shape, arrangement, number per squarecentimeter, all vary in different individuals. Besides, here wehave added the lines of the forehead. "

He was studying the two impressions intensely. When he looked upfrom his examination, his face wore a peculiar expression. 

"This is not the head which was placed so close to the glass ofthe door of Schloss' office, peering through, on the night of therobbery, in order to see before picking the lock whether theoffice was empty and everything ready for the hasty attack on thesafe. "

"That disposes of my theory that Schloss robbed himself, " remarkedWinters reluctantly. "But the struggle here, the sleeve of thedress, the pistol--could he have been shot?"

"No, I think not, " considered Kennedy. "It looks to me more like acase of apoplexy. "

"What shall we do?" asked Winters. "Far from clearing anything up, this complicates it. "

"Where's Muller?" asked Kennedy. "Does he know? Perhaps he canshed some light on it. "

The clang of an ambulance bell outside told that the aid summonedby Winters had arrived. 

We left the body in charge of the surgeon and of a policeman whoarrived about the same time, and followed Winters. 

Muller lived in a cheap boarding house in a shabbily respectablestreet downtown, and without announcing ourselves we climbed thestairs to his room. He looked up surprised but not disconcerted aswe entered. 

"What's the matter?" he asked. 

"Muller, " shot out Winters, "we have just found Mr. Schloss dead!"

"D-dead!" he stammered. 

The man seemed speechless with horror. 

"Yes, and with his grips packed as if to run away. "

Muller looked dazedly from one of us to the other, but shut uplike a clam. 

"I think you had better come along with us as a material witness, "burst out Winters roughly. 

Kennedy said nothing, leaving that sort of third degree work tothe detective. But he was not idle, as Winters tried to extractmore than the monosyllables, "I don't know, " in answer to everyinquiry of Muller about his employer's life and business. 

A low exclamation from Craig attracted my attention from Winters. In a corner he had discovered a small box and had opened it. Inside was a dry battery and a most peculiar instrument, somethinglike a little flat telephone transmitter yet attached by wires toearpieces that fitted over the head after the manner of those of awireless detector. 

"What's this?" asked Kennedy, dangling it before Muller. 

He looked at it phlegmatically. "A deaf instrument I have beenworking on, " replied the jeweler. "My hearing is getting poor. "

Kennedy looked hastily from the instrument to the man. 

"I think I'll take it along with us, " he said quietly. 

Winters, true to his instincts, had been searching Muller in themeantime. Besides the various assortment that a man carries in hispockets usually, including pens, pencils, notebooks, a watch, ahandkerchief, a bunch of keys, one of which was large enough toopen a castle, there was a bunch of blank and unissued pawn-ticketsbearing the name, "Stein's One Per Cent. A Month Loans, " and anaddress on the Bowery. 

Was Muller the "fence" we were seeking, or only a tool for the"fence" higher up? Who was this Stein?

What it all meant I could only guess. It was a far cry from thewealth of Diamond Lane to a dingy Bowery pawnshop, even thoughpawnbroking at one per cent. A month--and more, on the side--pays. I knew, too, that diamonds are hoarded on the East Side as nowhereelse in the world, outside of India. It was no uncommon thing, Ihad heard, for a pawnbroker whose shop seemed dirty and greasy tothe casual visitor to have stored away in his vault gems runninginto the hundreds of thousands of dollars. 

"Mrs. Moulton must know of this, " remarked Kennedy. "Winters, youand Jameson bring Muller along. I am going up to the Deluxe. "

I must say that I was surprised at finding Mrs. Moulton there. Outside the suite Winters and I waited with the unresistingMuller, while Kennedy entered. But through the door which he leftajar I could hear what passed. 

"Mrs. Moulton, " he began, "something terrible has happened--"

He broke off, and I gathered that her pale face and agitatedmanner told him that she knew already. 

"Where is Mr. Moulton?" he went on, changing his question. 

"Mr. Moulton is at his office, " she answered tremulously. "Hetelephoned while I was out that he had to work to-night. Oh, Mr. Kennedy--he knows--he knows. I know it. He has avoided me eversince I missed the replica from-"

"Sh!" cautioned Craig. He had risen and gone to the door. 

"Winters, " he whispered, "I want you to go down to Lynn Moulton'soffice. Meanwhile Jameson can take care of Muller. I am going overto that place of Stein's presently. Bring Moulton up there. Youwill wait here, Walter, for the present, " he nodded. 

He returned to the room where I could hear her crying softly. 

"Now, Mrs. Moulton, " he said gently, "I'm afraid I must troubleyou to go with me. I am going over to a pawnbroker's on theBowery. "

"The Bowery?" she repeated, with a genuinely surprised shudder. "Oh, no, Mr. Kennedy. Don't ask me to go anywhere to-night. I am--I am in no condition to go anywhere--to do anything--I--"

"But you must, " said Kennedy in a low voice. 

"I can't. Oh--have mercy on me. I am terribly upset. You--"

"It is your duty to go, Mrs. Moulton, " he repeated. 

"I don't understand. " she murmured. "A pawnbroker's?"

"Come, " urged Kennedy, not harshly but firmly, then, as she heldback, added, playing a trump card, "We must work quickly. In hishands we found the fragments of a torn dress. When the police--"

She uttered a shriek. A glance had told her, if she had deceivedherself before, that Kennedy knew her secret. 

Antoinette Moulton was standing before him, talking rapidly. 

"Some one has told Lynn. I know it. There is nothing now that Ican conceal. If you had come half an hour later you would not havefound me. He had written to Mr. Schloss, threatening him that ifhe did not leave the country he would shoot him at sight. Mr. Schloss showed me the letter. 

"It had come to this. I must either elope with Schloss, or losehis aid. The thought of either was unendurable. I hated him--yetwas dependent on him. 

"To-night I met him, in his empty apartment, alone. I knew that hehad what was left of his money with him, that everything waspacked up. I went prepared. I would not elope. My plan was no lessthan to make him pay the balance on the necklace that he had lost--or to murder him. 

"I carried a new pistol in my muff, one which Lynn had justbought. I don't know how I did it. I was desperate. 

"He told me he loved me, that Lynn did not, never had--that Lynnhad married me only to show off his wealth and diamonds, to givehim a social! position--that I was merely a--a piece of property--a dummy. 

"He tried to kiss me. It was revolting. I struggled away from him. 

"And in the struggle, the revolver fell from my muff and explodedon the floor. 

"At once he was aflame with suspicion. 

"'So--it's murder you want!' he shouted. 'Well, murder it shallbe!'

"I saw death in his eye as he seized my arm. I was defenselessnow. The old passion came over him. Before he killed--he--wouldhave his way with me. 

"I screamed. With a wild effort I twisted away from him. 

"He raised his hand to strike me, I saw his eyes, glassy. Then hesank back--fell to the floor--dead of apoplexy--dead of hisfurious emotions. 

"I fled. 

"And now you have found me. "

She had turned, hastily, to leave the room. Kennedy blocked thedoor. 

"Mrs. Moulton, " he said firmly, "listen to me. What was the firstquestion you asked me? 'Can I trust you?' And I told you youcould. This is no time for--for suicide. " He shot the word outbluntly. "All may not be lost. I have sent for your husband. Muller is outside. "

"Muller?" she cried. "He made the replica. "

"Very well. I am going to clear this thing up. Come. You MUST. "

It was all confused to me, the dash in a car to the littlepawnbroker's on the first floor of a five-story tenement, thequick entry into the place by one of Muller's keys. 

Over the safe in back was a framework like that which had coveredSchloss' safe. Kennedy tore it away, regardless of the alarm whichit must have sounded. In a moment he was down before it on hisknees. 

"This is how Schloss' safe was opened so quickly, " he muttered, working feverishly. "Here is some of their own medicine. "

He had placed the peculiar telephone-like transmitter close to thecombination lock and was turning the combination rapidly. 

Suddenly he rose, gave the bolts a twist, and the ponderous doorsswung open. 

"What is it?" I asked eagerly. 

"A burglar's microphone, " he answered, hastily looking over thecontents of the safe. "The microphone is now used by burglars forpicking combination locks. When you turn the lock, a slight soundis made when the proper number comes opposite the working point. It can be heard sometimes by a sensitive ear, although it isimperceptible to most persons. But by using a microphone it is aneasy matter to hear the sounds which allow of opening the lock. "

He had taken a yellow chamois bag out of the safe and opened it. 

Inside sparkled the famous Moulton diamonds. He held them up--inall their wicked brilliancy. No one spoke. 

Then he took another yellow bag, more dirty and worn than thefirst. As he opened it, Mrs. Moulton could restrain herself nolonger. 

"The replica!" she cried. "The replica!"

Without a word, Craig handed the real necklace to her. Then heslipped the paste jewels into the newer of the bags and restoredboth it and the empty one to their places, banged shut the door ofthe safe, and replaced the wooden screen. 

"Quick!" he said to her, "you have still a minute to get away. Hurry--anywhere--away--only away!"

The look of gratitude that came over her face, as she understoodthe full meaning of it was such as I had never seen before. 

"Quick!" he repeated. 

It was too late. 

"For God's sake, Kennedy, " shouted a voice at the street door, "what are you doing here?"

It was McLear himself. He had come with the Hale patrol, on hismettle now to take care of the epidemic of robberies. 

Before Craig could reply a cab drew up with a rush at the curb andtwo men, half fighting, half cursing, catapulted themselves intothe shop. 

They were Winters and Moulton. 

Without a word, taking advantage of the first shock of surprise, Kennedy had clapped a piece of chemical paper on the foreheads ofMrs. Moulton, then of Moulton, and on Muller's. Oblivious to therest of us, he studied the impressions in the full light of thecounter. 

Moulton was facing his wife with a scornful curl of the lip. 

"I've been told of the paste replica--and I wrote Schloss that I'dshoot him down like the dog he is, you--you traitress, " he hissed. 

She drew herself up scornfully. 

"And I have been told why you married me--to show off your wickedjewels and help you in your--"

"You lie!" he cried fiercely. "Muller--some one--open this safe--whosever it is. If what I have been told is true, there is in itone new bag containing the necklace. It was stolen from Schloss towhom you sold my jewels. The other old bag, stolen from me, contains the paste replica you had made to deceive me. "

It was all so confused that I do not know how it happened. I thinkit was Muller who opened the safe. 

"There is the new yellow bag, " cried Moulton, "from Schloss' ownsafe. Open it. "

McLear had taken it. He did so. There sparkled not the real gems, but the replica. 

"The devil!" Moulton exclaimed, breaking from Winters and seizingthe old bag. 

He tore it open and--it was empty. 

"One moment, " interrupted Kennedy, looking up quietly from thecounter. "Seal that safe again, McLear. In it are the Schlossjewels and the products of half a dozen other robberies which thedupe Muller--or Stein, as you please--pulled off, some as a blindto conceal the real criminal. You may have shown him how to leaveno finger prints, but you yourself have left what is just as good--your own forehead print. McLear--you were right. There's yourcriminal--Lynn Moulton, professional fence, the brains of thething. "

CHAPTER XIX

THE GERM LETTER

Lynn Moulton made no fight and Kennedy did not pursue the case, for, with the rescue of Antoinette Moulton, his interest ceased. 

Blackmail takes various forms, and the Moulton affair was only onephase of it. It was not long before we had to meet a much strangerattempt. 

"Read the letter, Professor Kennedy. Then I will tell you thesequel. "

Mrs. Hunter Blake lay back in the cushions of her invalid chair inthe sun parlor of the great Blake mansion on Riverside Drive, facing the Hudson with its continuous reel of maritime life framedagainst the green-hilled background of the Jersey shore. 

Her nurse, Miss Dora Sears, gently smoothed out the pillows andadjusted them so that the invalid could more easily watch us. Mrs. Blake, wealthy, known as a philanthropist, was not an old woman, but had been for years a great sufferer from rheumatism. 

I watched Miss Sears eagerly. Full-bosomed, fine of face andfigure, she was something more than a nurse; she was a companion. She had bright, sparkling black eyes and an expression about herwell-cut mouth which made one want to laugh with her. It seemed tosay that the world was a huge joke and she invited you to enjoythe joke with her. 

Kennedy took the letter which Miss Sears proffered him, and as hedid so I could not help noticing her full, plump forearm on whichgleamed a handsome plain gold bracelet. He spread the letter outon a dainty wicker table in such a way that we both could see it. 

We had been summoned over the telephone to the Blake mansion byReginald Blake, Mrs. Blake's eldest son. Reginald had been veryreticent over the reason, but had seemed very anxious andinsistent that Kennedy should come immediately. 

Craig read quickly and I followed him, fascinated by the letterfrom its very opening paragraph. 

"Dear Madam, " it began. "Having received my diploma as doctor ofmedicine and bacteriology at Heidelberg in 1909, I came to theUnited States to study a most serious disease which is prevalentin several of the western mountain states. "

So far, I reflected, it looked like an ordinary appeal for aid. The next words, however, were queer: "I have four hundred personsof wealth on my list. Your name was--"

Kennedy turned the page. On the next leaf of the letter sheet waspasted a strip of gelatine. The first page had adhered slightly tothe gelatine. 

"Chosen by fate, " went on the sentence ominously. 

"By opening this letter, " I read, "you have liberated millions ofthe virulent bacteria of this disease. Without a doubt you areinfected by this time, for no human body is impervious to them, and up to the present only one in one hundred has fully recoveredafter going through all its stages. "

I gasped. The gelatine had evidently been arranged so that whenthe two sheets were pulled apart, the germs would be thrown intothe air about the person opening the letter. It was a veryingenious device. 

The letter continued, "I am happy to say, however, that I have aprophylactic which will destroy any number of these germs if usedup to the ninth day. It is necessary only that you should placefive thousand dollars in an envelope and leave it for me to becalled for at the desk of the Prince Henry Hotel. When themessenger delivers the money to me, the prophylactic will be sentimmediately. 

"First of all, take a match and burn this letter to avoidspreading the disease. Then change your clothes and burn the oldones. Enclosed you will find in a germ-proof envelope an exactcopy of this letter. The room should then be thoroughly fumigated. Do not come into close contact with anyone near and dear to youuntil you have used the prophylactic. Tell no one. In case you do, the prophylactic will not be sent under any circumstances. Verytruly yours, DR. HANS HOPF. "

"Blackmail!" exclaimed Kennedy, looking intently again at thegelatine on the second page, as I involuntarily backed away andheld my breath. 

"Yes, I know, " responded Mrs. Blake anxiously, "but is it true?"

There could be no doubt from the tone of her voice that she morethan half believed that it was true. 

"I cannot say--yet, " replied Craig, still cautiously scanning theapparently innocent piece of gelatine on the original letter whichMrs. Blake had not destroyed. "I shall have to keep it and examineit. "

On the gelatine I could see a dark mass which evidently wassupposed to contain the germs. 

"I opened the letter here in this room, " she went on. "At first Ithought nothing of it. But this morning, when Buster, my prizePekinese, who had been with me, sitting on my lap at the time, andcloser to the letter even than I was, when Buster was takensuddenly ill, I--well, I began to worry. "

She finished with a little nervous laugh, as people will to hidetheir real feelings. 

"I should like to see the dog, " remarked Kennedy simply. 

"Miss Sears, " asked her mistress, "will you get Buster, please?"

The nurse left the room. No longer was there the laughing look onher face. This was serious business. 

A few minutes later she reappeared, carrying gingerly a small dogbasket. Mrs. Blake lifted the lid. Inside was a beautiful little"Peke, " and it was easy to see that Buster was indeed ill. 

"Who is your doctor?" asked Craig, considering. 

"Dr. Rae Wilson, a very well-known woman physician. "

Kennedy nodded recognition of the name. "What does she say?" heasked, observing the dog narrowly. 

"We haven't told anyone, outside, of it yet, " replied Mrs. Blake. "In fact until Buster fell sick, I thought it was a hoax. "

"You haven't told anyone?"

"Only Reginald and my daughter Betty. Betty is frantic--not withfear for herself, but with fear for me. No one can reassure her. In fact it was as much for her sake as anyone's that I sent foryou. Reginald has tried to trace the thing down himself, but hasnot succeeded. "

She paused. The door opened and Reginald Blake entered. He was ayoung fellow, self confident and no doubt very efficient at thenew dances, though scarcely fitted to rub elbows with a cold worldwhich, outside of his own immediate circle, knew not the name ofBlake. He stood for a moment regarding us through the smoke of hiscigarette. 

"Tell me just what you have done, " asked Kennedy of him as hismother introduced him, although he had done the talking for herover the telephone. 

"Done?" he drawled. "Why, as soon as mother told me of the letter, I left an envelope up at the Prince Henry, as it directed. "

"With the money?" put in Craig quickly. 

"Oh, no--just as a decoy. "

"Yes. What happened?"

"Well, I waited around a long time. It was far along in the daywhen a woman appeared at the desk. I had instructed the clerk tobe on the watch for anyone who asked for mail addressed to a Dr. Hopf. The clerk slammed the register. That was the signal. I movedup closer. "

"What did she look like?" asked Kennedy keenly. 

"I couldn't see her face. But she was beautifully dressed, with along light flowing linen duster, a veil that hid her features andon her hands and arms a long pair of motoring doeskin gloves. ByGeorge, she was a winner--in general looks, though. Well, something about the clerk, I suppose, must have aroused hersuspicions. For, a moment later, she was gone in the crowd. Evidently she had thought of the danger and had picked out a timewhen the lobby would be full and everybody busy. But she did notleave by the front entrance through which she entered. I concludedthat she must have left by one of the side street carriage doors. "

"And she got away?"

"Yes. I found that she asked one of the boys at the door to crankup a car standing at the curb. She slid into the seat, and was offin a minute. "

Kennedy said nothing. But I knew that he was making a mightyeffort to restrain comment on the bungling amateur detective workof the son of our client. 

Reginald saw the look on his face. "Still, " he hastened, "I gotthe number of the car. It was 200859 New York. "

"You have looked it up?" queried Kennedy quickly. 

"I didn't need to do it. A few minutes later Dr. Rae Wilsonherself came out--storming like mad. Her car had been stolen atthe very door of the hotel by this woman with the innocent aid ofthe hotel employees. "

Kennedy was evidently keenly interested. The mention of the stolencar had apparently at once suggested an idea to him. 

"Mrs. Blake, " he said, as he rose to go, "I shall take this letterwith me. Will you see that Buster is sent up to my laboratoryimmediately?"

She nodded. It was evident that Buster was a great pet with herand that it was with difficulty she kept from smoothing his silkycoat. 

"You--you won't hurt Buster?" she pleaded. 

"No. Trust me. More than that, if there is any possible way ofuntangling this mystery, I shall do it. "

Mrs. Blake looked rather than spoke her thanks. As we wentdownstairs, accompanied by Miss Sears, we could see in the musicroom a very interesting couple, chatting earnestly over the piano. 

Betty Blake, a slip of a girl in her first season, was dividingher attention between her visitor and the door by which we werepassing. 

She rose as she heard us, leaving the young man standing alone atthe piano. He was of an age perhaps a year or two older thanReginald Blake. It was evident that, whatever Miss Betty mightthink, he had eyes for no one else but the pretty debutante. Heeven seemed to be regarding Kennedy sullenly, as if he were apossible rival. 

"You--you don't think it is serious?" whispered Betty in anundertone, scarcely waiting to be introduced. She had evidentlyknown of our visit, but had been unable to get away to be presentupstairs. 

"Really, Miss Blake, " reassured Kennedy, "I can't say. All I cando is to repeat what I have already said to your mother. Keep up agood heart and trust me to work it out. "

"Thank you, " she murmured, and then, impulsively extending hersmall hand to Craig, she added, "Mr. Kennedy, if there is anythingI can do to help you, I beg that you will call on me. "

"I shall not forget, " he answered, relinquishing the handreluctantly. Then, as she thanked him, and turned again to herguest, he added in a low tone to me, "A remarkable girl, Walter, agirl that can be depended on. "

We followed Miss Sears down the hall. 

"Who was that young man in the music room?" asked Kennedy, when wewere out of earshot. 

"Duncan Baldwin, " she answered. "A friend and bosom companion ofReginald. "

"He seems to think more of Betty than of her brother, " Craigremarked dryly. 

Miss Sears smiled. "Sometimes, we think they are secretlyengaged, " she returned. We had almost reached the door. "By theway, " she asked anxiously, "do you think there are any precautionsthat I should take for Mrs. Blake--and the rest?"

"Hardly, " answered Kennedy, after a moment's consideration, "aslong as you have taken none in particular already. Still, Isuppose it will do no harm to be as antiseptic as possible. "

"I shall try, " she promised, her face showing that she consideredthe affair now in a much more serious light than she had beforeour visit. 

"And keep me informed of anything that turns up, " added Kennedyhanding her a card with the telephone number of the laboratory. 

As we left the Blake mansion, Kennedy remarked, "We must tracethat car somehow--at least we must get someone working on that. "

Half an hour later we were in a towering office building onLiberty Street, the home of various kinds of insurance. Kennedystopped before a door which bore the name, "Douglas Garwood:Insurance Adjuster. "

Briefly, Craig told the story of the stolen car, omitting theaccount of the dastardly method taken to blackmail Mrs. Blake. Ashe proceeded a light seemed to break on the face of Garwood, aheavyset man, whose very gaze was inquisitorial. 

"Yes, the theft has been reported to us already by Dr. Wilsonherself, " he interrupted. "The car was insured in a company Irepresent. "

"I had hoped so, " remarked Kennedy, "Do you know the woman?" headded, watching the insurance adjuster who had been listeningintently as he told about the fair motor car thief. 

"Know her?" repeated Garwood emphatically. "Why, man, we have beenso close to that woman that I feel almost intimate with her. Thedescriptions are those of a lady, well-dressed, and with a voiceand manner that would carry her through any of the fashionablehotels, perhaps into society itself. "

"One of a gang of blackmailers, then, " I hazarded. 

Garwood shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps, " he acquiesced. "It isautomobile thieving that interests me, though. Why, " he went on, rising excitedly, "the gangs of these thieves are getting awaywith half a million dollars' worth of high-priced cars every year. The police seem to be powerless to stop it. We appeal to them, butwith no result. So, now we have taken things into our own hands. "

"What are you doing in this case?" asked Kennedy. 

"What the insurance companies have to do to recover stolenautomobiles, " Garwood replied. "For, with all deference to yourfriend, Deputy O'Connor, it is the insurance companies rather thanthe police who get stolen cars back. "

He had pulled out a postal card from a pigeon hole in his desk, selecting it from several apparently similar. We read:

$250. 00 REWARD

We will pay $100. 00 for car, $150. 00 additional for informationwhich will convict the thief. When last seen, driven by a woman, name not known, who is described as dark-haired, well-dressed, slight, apparently thirty years old. The car is a Dixon, 1912, seven-passenger, touring, No. 193, 222, license No. 200, 859, NewYork; dark red body, mohair top, brass lamps, has no wind shield;rear axle brake band device has extra nut on turnbuckle notpainted. Car last seen near Prince Henry Hotel, New York City, Friday, the 10th. 

Communicate by telegraph or telephone, after notifying nearestpolice department, with Douglas Garwood, New York City. "Thesecret of it is, " explained Garwood, as we finished reading, "thatthere are innumerable people who keep their eyes open and like toearn money easily. Thus we have several hundreds of amateur andenthusiastic detectives watching all over the city and country forany car that looks suspicious. "

Kennedy thanked him for his courtesy, and we rose to go. "I shallbe glad to keep you informed of anything that turns up, " hepromised. 

CHAPTER XX

THE ARTIFICIAL KIDNEY

In the laboratory, Kennedy quietly set to work. He began bytearing from the germ letter the piece of gelatine and firstexamining it with a pocket lens. Then, with a sterile platinumwire, he picked out several minute sections of the black spot onthe gelatine and placed them in agar, blood serum, and other mediaon which they would be likely to grow. 

"I shall have to wait until to-morrow to examine them properly, "he remarked. "There are colonies of something there, all right, but I must have them more fully developed. "

A hurried telephone call late in the day from Miss Sears told usthat Mrs. Blake herself had begun to complain, and that Dr. Wilsonhad been summoned but had been unable to give an opinion on thenature of the malady. 

Kennedy quickly decided on making a visit to the doctor, who livednot far downtown from the laboratory. 

Dr. Rae Wilson proved to be a nervous little woman, inclined, Ifelt, to be dictatorial. I thought that secretly she felt a littlepiqued at our having been taken into the Blakes' confidence beforeherself, and Kennedy made every effort to smooth that aspect overtactfully. 

"Have you any idea what it can be?" he asked finally. 

She shook her head noncommittally. "I have taken blood smears, " sheanswered, "but so far haven't been able to discover anything. Ishall have to have her under observation for a day or two before Ican answer that. Still, as Mrs. Blake is so ill, I have orderedanother trained nurse to relieve Miss Sears of the added work, avery efficient nurse, a Miss Rogers. "

Kennedy had risen to go. "You have had no word about your car?" heasked casually. 

"None yet. I'm not worrying. It was insured. "

"Who is this arch criminal, Dr. Hopf?" I mused as we retraced oursteps to the laboratory. "Is Mrs. Blake stricken now by the sametrouble that seems to have affected Buster?"

"Only my examination will show, " he said. "I shall let nothinginterfere with that now. It must be the starting point for anywork that I may do in the case. "

We arrived at Kennedy's workshop of scientific crime and heimmediately plunged into work. Looking up he caught sight of mestanding helplessly idle. 

"Walter, " he remarked thoughtfully adjusting a microscope, "suppose you run down and see Garwood. Perhaps he has something toreport. And by the way, while you are out, make inquiries aboutthe Blakes, young Baldwin, Miss Sears and this Dr. Wilson. I haveheard of her before, at least by name. Perhaps you may findsomething interesting. "

Glad to have a chance to seem to be doing something whether itamounted to anything or not, I dropped in to see Garwood. So farhe had nothing to report except the usual number of false alarms. From his office I went up to the Star where fortunately I foundone of the reporters who wrote society notes. 

The Blakes, I found, as we already knew, to be well known andmoving in the highest social circles. As far as known they had noparticular enemies, other than those common to all people of greatwealth. Dr. Wilson had a large practice, built up in recent years, and was one of the best known society physicians for women. MissSears was unknown, as far as I could determine. As for DuncanBaldwin, I found that he had become acquainted with Reginald Blakein college, that he came of no particular family and seemed tohave no great means, although he was very popular in the bestcircles. In fact he had had, thanks to his friend, a rathermeteoric rise in society, though it was reported that he wassomewhat involved in debt as a result. 

I returned to the laboratory to find that Craig had taken out of acabinet a peculiar looking arrangement. It consisted of thirty-twotubes, each about sixteen inches long, with S-turns, like a minuteradiator. It was altogether not over a cubic foot in size, andenclosed in a glass cylinder. There were in it, perhaps, fiftyfeet of tubes, a perfectly-closed tubular system which I noticedKennedy was keeping absolutely sterile in a germicidal solution ofsome kind. 

Inside the tubes and surrounding them was a saline solution whichwas kept at a uniform temperature by a special heating apparatus. 

Kennedy had placed the apparatus on the laboratory table and thengently took the little dog from his basket and laid him beside it. A few minutes later the poor little suffering Buster wasmercifully under the influence of an anesthetic. 

Quickly Craig worked. First he attached the end of one of thetubes by means of a little cannula to the carotid artery of thedog. Then the other was attached to the jugular vein. 

As he released the clamp which held the artery, the little dog'sfeverishly beating heart spurted the arterial blood from thecarotid into the tubes holding the normal salt solution and thatpressure, in turn, pumped the salt solution which filled the tubesinto the jugular vein, thus replacing the arterial blood that hadpoured into the tubes from the other end and maintaining thenormal hydrostatic conditions in the body circulation. The dog wasbeing kept alive, although perhaps a third of his blood was out ofhis body. 

"You see, " he said at length, after we had watched the process afew minutes, "what I have here is in reality an artificial kidney. It is a system that has been devised by several doctors at JohnsHopkins. 

"If there is any toxin in the blood of this dog, the kidneys arenaturally endeavoring to eliminate it. Perhaps it is beingeliminated too slowly. In that case this arrangement which I havehere will aid them. We call it vividiffusion and it depends forits action on the physical principle of osmosis, the passage ofsubstances of a certain kind through a porous membrane, such asthese tubes of celloidin. 

"Thus any substance, any poison that is dialyzable is diffusedinto the surrounding salt solution and the blood is passed backinto the body, with no air in it, no infection, and withoutalteration. Clotting is prevented by the injection of a harmlesssubstance derived from leeches, known as hirudin. I prevent theloss of anything in the blood which I want retained by placing inthe salt solution around the tubes an amount of that substanceequal to that held in solution by the blood. Of course that doesnot apply to the colloidal substances in the blood which would notpass by osmosis under any circumstances. But by such adjustments Ican remove and study any desired substance in the blood, providedit is capable of diffusion. In fact this little apparatus has beenfound in practice to compare favorably with the kidneys themselvesin removing even a lethal dose of poison. "

I watched in amazement. He was actually cleaning the blood of thedog and putting it back again, purified, into the little body. Farfrom being cruel, as perhaps it might seem, it was in realityprobably the only method by which the animal could be saved, andat the same time it was giving us a clue as to some elusive, subtle substance used in the case. 

"Indeed, " Kennedy went on reflectively, "this process can be keptup for several hours without injury to the dog, though I do notthink that will be necessary to relieve the unwonted strain thathas been put upon his natural organs. Finally, at the close of theoperation, serious loss of blood is overcome by driving back thegreater part of it into his body, closing up the artery and vein, and taking good care of the animal so that he will make a quickrecovery. "

For a long time I watched the fascinating process of seeing thelife blood coursing through the porous tubes in the salt solution, while Kennedy gave his undivided attention to the success of thedelicate experiment. It was late when I left him, still at workover Buster, and went up to our apartment to turn in, convincedthat nothing more would happen that night. 

The next morning, with characteristic energy, Craig was at workearly, examining the cultures he had made from the black spots onthe gelatine. 

By the look of perplexity on his face, I knew that he haddiscovered something that instead of clearing the mystery up, further deepened it. 

"What do you find?" I asked anxiously. 

"Walter, " he exclaimed, laying aside the last of the slides whichhe had been staining and looking at intently through themicroscope, "that stuff on the gelatine is entirely harmless. There was nothing in it except common mold. "

For the moment I did not comprehend. "Mold?" I repeated. 

"Yes, " he replied, "just common, ordinary mold such as grows onthe top of a jar of fruit or preserves when it is exposed to theair. "

I stifled an exclamation of incredulity. It seemed impossible thatthe deadly germ note should be harmless, in view of the eventsthat had followed its receipt. 

Just then the laboratory door was flung open and Reginald Blake, pale and excited, entered. He had every mark of having been up allnight. 

"What's the matter?" asked Craig. 

"It's about my mother, " he blurted out. "She seems to be gettingworse all the time. Miss Sears is alarmed, and Betty is almost illherself with worry. Dr. Wilson doesn't seem to know what it isthat affects her, and neither does the new nurse. Can you DOsomething?"

There was a tone of appeal in his voice that was not like theself-sufficient Reginald of the day before. 

"Does there seem to be any immediate danger?" asked Kennedy. 

"Perhaps not--I can't say, " he urged. "But she is graduallygetting worse instead of better. "

Kennedy thought a moment. "Has anything else happened?" he askedslowly. 

"N-no. That's enough, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, " replied Craig, trying to be reassuring. Then, recollecting Betty, he added, "Reginald, go back and tell yoursister for me that she must positively make the greatest effort ofher life to control herself. Tell her that her mother needs her--needs her well and brave. I shall be up at the house immediately. Do the best you can. I depend on you. "

Kennedy's words seemed to have a bracing effect on Reginald and afew moments later he left, much calmer. 

"I hope I have given him something to do which will keep him frommussing things up again, " remarked Kennedy, mindful of Reginald'sformer excursion into detective work. 

Meanwhile Craig plunged furiously into his study of the substanceshe had isolated from the saline solution in which he had "washed"the blood of the little Pekinese. 

"There's no use doing anything in the dark, " he explained. "Untilwe know what it is we are fighting we can't very well fight. "

For the moment I was overwhelmed by the impending tragedy thatseemed to be hanging over Mrs. Blake. The more I thought of it, the more inexplicable became the discovery of the mold. 

"That is all very well about the mold on the gelatine strip in theletter, " I insisted at length. "But, Craig, there must besomething wrong somewhere. Mere molds could not have made Busterso ill, and now the infection, or whatever it is, has spread toMrs. Blake herself. What have you found out by studying Buster?"

He looked up from his close scrutiny of the material in one of thetest tubes which contained something he had recovered from thesaline solution of the diffusion apparatus. 

I could read on his face that whatever it was, it was serious. "What is it?" I repeated almost breathlessly. 

"I suppose I might coin a word to describe it, " he answeredslowly, measuring his phrases. "Perhaps it might be calledhyper-amino-acidemia. "

I puckered my eyes at the mouth-filling term Kennedy smiled. "Itwould mean, " he explained, "a great quantity of the amino-acids, non-coagulable, nitrogenous compounds in the blood. You know theindols, the phenols, and the amins are produced both byputrefactive bacteria and by the process of metabolism, theburning up of the tissues in the process of utilizing the energythat means life. But under normal circumstances, the amins are notpresent in the blood in any such quantities as I have discoveredby this new method of diffusion. "

He paused a moment, as if in deference to my inability to followhim on such an abstruse topic, then resumed, "As far as I am ableto determine, this poison or toxin is an amin similar to thatsecreted by certain cephalopods found in the neighborhood ofNaples. It is an aromatic amin. Smell it. "

I bent over and inhaled the peculiar odor. 

"Those creatures, " he continued, "catch their prey by this highlyactive poison secreted by the so-called salivary glands. Even alittle bit will kill a crab easily. "

I was following him now with intense interest, thinking of theastuteness of a mind capable of thinking of such a poison. 

"Indeed, it is surprising, " he resumed thoughtfully, "how many aninnocent substance can be changed by bacteria into a virulentpoison. In fact our poisons and our drugs are in many instancesthe close relations of harmless compounds that represent theintermediate steps in the daily process of metabolism. "

"Then, " I put in, "the toxin was produced by germs, after all?"

"I did not say that, " he corrected. "It might have been. But Ifind no germs in the blood of Buster. Nor did Dr. Wilson find anyin the blood smears which she took from Mrs. Blake. "

He seemed to have thrown the whole thing back again into the limboof the unexplainable, and I felt nonplussed. 

"The writer of that letter, " he went on, waving the piece ofsterile platinum wire with which he had been transferring drops ofliquid in his search for germs, "was a much more skillfulbacteriologist than I thought, evidently. No, the trouble does notseem to be from germs breathed in, or from germs at all--it isfrom some kind of germ-free toxin that has been injected orotherwise introduced. "

Vaguely now I began to appreciate the terrible significance ofwhat he had discovered. 

"But the letter?" I persisted mechanically. 

"The writer of that was quite as shrewd a psychologist asbacteriologist, " pursued Craig impressively. "He calculated themoral effect of the letter, then of Buster's illness, and finallyof reaching Mrs. Blake herself. "

"You think Dr. Rae Wilson knows nothing of it yet?" I queried. 

Kennedy appeared to consider his answer carefully. Then he saidslowly: "Almost any doctor with a microscope and the faintesttrace of a scientific education could recognize disease germseither naturally or feloniously implanted. But when it comes tothe detection of concentrated, filtered, germ-free toxins, almostany scientist might be baffled. Walter, " he concluded, "this isnot mere blackmail, although perhaps the visit of that woman tothe Prince Henry--a desperate thing in itself, although she didget away by her quick thinking--perhaps that shows that thesepeople are ready to stop at nothing. No, it goes deeper thanblackmail. "

I stood aghast at the discovery of this new method of scientificmurder. The astute criminal, whoever he might be, had planned toleave not even the slender clue that might be afforded by diseasegerms. He was operating, not with disease itself, but withsomething showing the ultimate effects, perhaps, of disease withnone of the preliminary symptoms, baffling even to the best ofphysicians. 

I scarcely knew what to say. Before I realized it, however, Craigwas at last ready for the promised visit to Mrs. Blake. We wenttogether, carrying Buster, in his basket, not recovered, to besure, but a very different little animal from the dying creaturethat had been sent to us at the laboratory. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE POISON BRACELET

We reached the Blake mansion and were promptly admitted. MissBetty, bearing up bravely under Reginald's reassurances, greetedus before we were fairly inside the door, though she and herbrother were not able to conceal the fact that their mother was nobetter. Miss Sears was out, for an airing, and the new nurse, MissRogers, was in charge of the patient. 

"How do you feel, this morning?" inquired Kennedy as we enteredthe sun-parlor, where Mrs. Blake had first received us. 

A single glance was enough to satisfy me of the seriousness of hercondition. She seemed to be in almost a stupor from which sheroused herself only with difficulty. It was as if someoverpowering toxin were gradually undermining her already weakenedconstitution. 

She nodded recognition, but nothing further. 

Kennedy had set the dog basket down near her wheel-chair and shecaught sight of it. 

"Buster?" she murmured, raising her eyes. "Is--he--all right?"

For answer, Craig simply raised the lid of the basket. Busteralready seemed to have recognized the voice of his mistress, and, with an almost human instinct, to realize that though he himselfwas still weak and ill, she needed encouragement. 

As Mrs. Blake stretched out her slender hand, drawn with pain, tohis silky head, he gave a little yelp of delight and his littlered tongue eagerly caressed her hand. 

It was as though the two understood each other. Although Mrs. Blake, as yet, had no more idea what had happened to her pet, sheseemed to feel by some subtle means of thought transference thatthe intelligent little animal was conveying to her a message ofhope. The caress, the sharp, joyous yelp, and the happy wagging ofthe bushy tail seemed to brighten her up, at least for the moment, almost as if she had received a new impetus. 

"Buster!" she exclaimed, overjoyed to get her pet back again in somuch improved condition. 

"I wouldn't exert myself too much, Mrs. Blake, " cautioned Kennedy. 

"Were--were there any germs in the letter?" she asked, as Reginaldand Betty stood on the other side of the chair, much encouraged, apparently, at this show of throwing off the lethargy that hadseized her. 

"Yes, but about as harmless as those would be on a piece ofcheese, " Kennedy hastened. "But I--I feel so weak, so played out--and my head--"

Her voice trailed off, a too evident reminder that her improvementhad been only momentary and prompted by the excitement of ourarrival. 

Betty bent down solicitously and made her more comfortable as onlyone woman can make another. Kennedy, meanwhile, had been talkingto Miss Rogers, and I could see that he was secretly taking hermeasure. 

"Has Dr. Wilson been here this morning?" I heard him ask. 

"Not yet, " she replied. "But we expect her soon. "

"Professor Kennedy?" announced a servant. 

"Yes?" answered Craig. 

"There is someone on the telephone who wants to speak to you. Hesaid he had called the laboratory first and that they told him tocall you here. "

Kennedy hurried after the servant, while Betty and Reginald joinedme, waiting, for we seemed to feel that something was about tohappen. 

"One of the unofficial detectives has unearthed a clue, " hewhispered to me a few moments later when he returned. "It wasGarwood. " Then to the others he added, "A car, repainted, and withthe number changed, but otherwise answering the description of Dr. Wilson's has been traced to the West Side. It is somewhere in theneighborhood of a saloon and garage where drivers of taxicabs hangout. Reginald, I wish you would come along with us. "

To Betty's unspoken question Craig hastened to add, "I don't thinkthere is any immediate danger. If there is any change--let meknow. I shall call up soon. And meanwhile, " he lowered his voiceto impress the instruction on her, "don't leave your mother for amoment--not for a moment, " he emphasized. 

Reginald was ready and together we three set off to meet Garwoodat a subway station near the point where the car had beenreported. We had scarcely closed the front door, when we ran intoDuncan Baldwin, coming down the street, evidently bent oninquiring how Mrs. Blake and Betty were. 

"Much better, " reassured Kennedy. "Come on, Baldwin. We can't havetoo many on whom we can rely on an expedition like this. "

"Like what?" he asked, evidently not comprehending. 

"There's a clue, they think, to that car of Dr. Wilson's, " hastilyexplained Reginald, linking his arm into that of his friend andfalling in behind us, as Craig hurried ahead. 

It did not take long to reach the subway, and as we waited for thetrain, Craig remarked: "This is a pretty good example of how theautomobile is becoming one of the most dangerous of criminalweapons. All one has to do nowadays, apparently, after committinga crime, is to jump into a waiting car and breeze away, safe. "

We met Garwood and under his guidance picked our way westward fromthe better known streets in the heart of the city, to a sectionthat was anything but prepossessing. 

The place which Garwood sought was a typical Raines Law hotel on acorner, with a saloon on the first floor, and apparently therequisite number of rooms above to give it a legal license. 

We had separated a little so that we would not attract undueattention. Kennedy and I entered the swinging doors boldly, whilethe others continued across to the other corner to wait withGarwood and take in the situation. It was a strange expedition andReginald was fidgeting while Duncan seemed nervous. 

Among the group of chauffeurs lounging at the bar and in the backroom anyone who had ever had any dealings with the gangs of NewYork might have recognized the faces of men whose pictures were inthe rogues' gallery and who were members of those variousaristocratic organizations of the underworld. 

Kennedy glanced about at the motley crowd. "This is a place whereyou need only to be introduced properly, " he whispered to me, "tohave any kind of crime committed for you. "

As we stood there, observing, without appearing to do so, throughan open window on the side street I could tell from the soundsthat there was a garage in the rear of the hotel. 

We were startled to hear a sudden uproar from the street. 

Garwood, impatient at our delay, had walked down past the garageto reconnoiter. A car was being backed out hurriedly, and as itturned and swung around the corner, his trained eye had recognizedit. 

Instantly he had reasoned that it was an attempt to make agetaway, and had raised an alarm. 

Those nearest the door piled out, keen for any excitement. We, too, dashed out on the street. There we saw passing an automobile, swaying and lurching at the terrific speed with which its driver, urged it up the avenue. As he flashed by he looked like an Italianto me, perhaps a gunman. 

Garwood had impressed a passing trolley car into service and waspursuing the automobile in it, as it swayed on its tracks ascrazily as the motor did on the roadway, running with all thepower the motorman could apply. 

A mounted policeman galloped past us, blazing away at the tires. The avenue was stirred, as seldom even in its strenuous life, withreports of shots, honking of horns, the clang of trolley bells andthe shouts of men. 

The pursuers were losing when there came a rattle and roar fromthe rear wheels which told that the tires were punctured and theheavy car was riding on its rims. A huge brewery wagon crossing aside street paused to see the fun, effectually blocking the road. 

The car jolted to a stop. The chauffeur leaped out and a momentlater dived down into a cellar. In that congested district, pursuit was useless. 

"Only an accomplice, " commented Kennedy. "Perhaps we can get himsome other way if we can catch the man--or woman--higher up. "

Down the street now we could see Garwood surrounded by a curiouscrowd but in possession of the car. I looked about for Duncan andReginald. They had apparently been swallowed up in the crowds ofidlers which seemed to be pouring out of nowhere, collecting togape at the excitement, after the manner of a New York crowd. 

As I ran my eye over them, I caught sight of Reginald near thecorner where we had left him in an incipient fight with someonewho had a fancied grievance. A moment later we had rescued him. 

"Where's Duncan?" he panted. "Did anything happen to him? Garwoodtold us to stay here--but we got separated. "

Policemen had appeared on the heels of the crowd and now, exceptfor a knot following Garwood, things seemed to be calming down. 

The excitement over, and the people thinning out, Kennedy stillcould not find any trace of Duncan. Finally he glanced in againthrough the swinging doors. There was Duncan, evidently quiteupset by what had occurred, fortifying himself at the bar. 

Suddenly from above came a heavy thud, as if someone had fallen onthe floor above us, followed by a suppressed shuffling of feet anda cry of help. 

Kennedy sprang toward a side door which led out into the hall tothe hotel room above. It was locked. Before any of the others heran out on the street and into the hall that way, taking thestairs two at a time, past a little cubby-hole of an "office" anddown the upper hall to a door from which came the cry. 

It was a peculiar room into which we burst, half bedroom, halfworkshop, or rather laboratory, for on a deal table by a windowstood a rack of test-tubes, several beakers, and otherparaphernalia. 

A chambermaid was shrieking over a woman who was lying lethargicon the floor. 

I looked more closely. 

It was Dora Sears. 

For the moment I could not imagine what had happened. Had theevents of the past few days worked on her mind and driven her intotemporary insanity? Or had the blackmailing gang of automobilethieves, failing in extorting money by their original plan, seizedher?

Kennedy bent over and tried to lift her up. As he did so, the goldbracelet, unclasped, clattered to the floor. 

He picked it up and for a moment looked at it. It was hollow, butin that part of it where it unclasped could be seen a minutehypodermic needle and traces of a liquid. 

"A poison bracelet, " he muttered to himself, "one in which enoughof a virulent poison could be hidden so that in an emergency deathcould cheat the law. "

"But this Dr. Hopf, " exclaimed Reginald, who stood behind uslooking from the insensible girl to the bracelet and slowlycomprehending what it all meant, "she alone knows where and who heis!"

We looked at Kennedy. What was to be done? Was the criminal higherup to escape because one of his tools had been cornered and hadtaken the easiest way to get out?

Kennedy had taken down the receiver of the wall telephone in theroom. A moment later he was calling insistently for hislaboratory. One of the students in another part of the buildinganswered. Quickly he described the apparatus for vividiffusion andhow to handle it without rupturing any of the delicate tubes. 

"The large one, " he ordered, "with one hundred and ninety-twotubes. And hurry. "

Before the student appeared, came an ambulance which some one inthe excitement had summoned. Kennedy quickly commandeered both theyoung doctor and what surgical material he had with him. 

Briefly he explained what he proposed to do and before the studentarrived with the apparatus, they had placed the nurse in such aposition that they were ready for the operation. 

The next room which was unoccupied had been thrown open to us andthere I waited with Reginald and Duncan, endeavoring to explain tothem the mysteries of the new process of washing the blood. 

The minutes lengthened into hours, as the blood of the poisonedgirl coursed through its artificial channel, literally beingwashed of the toxin from the poisoned bracelet. 

Would it succeed? It had saved the life of Buster. But would itbring back the unfortunate before us, long enough even for her toyield her secret and enable us to catch the real criminal. What ifshe died?

As Kennedy worked, the young men with me became more and morefascinated, watching him. The vividiffusion apparatus was now infull operation. 

In the intervals when he left the apparatus in charge of the youngambulance surgeon Kennedy was looking over the room. In a trunkwhich was open he found several bundles of papers. As he ran hiseye over them quickly, he selected some and stuffed them into hispocket, then went back to watch the working of the apparatus. 

Reginald, who had been growing more and more nervous, at lastasked if he might call up Betty to find out how his mother was. 

He came back from the telephone, his face wrinkled. 

"Poor mother, " he remarked anxiously, "do you think she will pullthrough, Professor? Betty says that Dr. Wilson has given her noidea yet about the nature of the trouble. "

Kennedy thought a moment. "Of course, " he said, "your mother hashad no such relative amount of the poison as Buster has had. Ithink that undoubtedly she will recover by purely natural means. Ihope so. But if not, here is the apparatus, " and he patted thevividiffusion tubes in their glass case, "that will save her, too. "

As well as I could I explained to Reginald the nature of the toxinthat Kennedy had discovered. Duncan listened, putting in aquestion now and then. But it was evident that his thoughts wereon something else, and now and then Reginald, breaking into hisold humor, rallied him about thinking of Betty. 

A low exclamation from both Kennedy and the surgeon attracted us. 

Dora Sears had moved. 

The operation of the apparatus was stopped, the artery and veinhad been joined up, and she was slowly coming out from under theeffects of the anesthetic. 

As we gathered about her, at a little distance, we heard her cryin her delirium, "I--I would have--done--anything--for him. "

We strained our ears. Was she talking of the blackmailer, Dr. Hopf?

"Who?" asked Craig, bending over close to her ear. 

"I--I would--have done anything, " she repeated as if someone hadcontradicted her. She went on, dreamily, ramblingly, "He--is--is--my brother. I--"

She stopped through weakness. 

"Where is Dr. Hopf?" asked Kennedy, trying to recall her fleetingattention. 

"Dr. Hopf? Dr. Hopf?" she repeated, then smiling to herself aspeople will when they are leaving the borderline of anesthesia, she repeated the name, "Hopf?"

"Yes, " persisted Kennedy. 

"There is no Dr. Hopf, " she added. "Tell me--did--did they--"

"No Dr. Hopf?" Kennedy insisted. 

She had lapsed again into half insensibility. 

He rose and faced us, speaking rapidly. 

"New York seems to have a mysterious and uncanny attraction forodds and ends of humanity, among them the great army ofadventuresses. In fact there often seems to be something decidedlyadventurous about the nursing profession. This is a girl ofunusual education in medicine. Evidently she has traveled--herletters show it. Many of them show that she has been in Italy. Perhaps it was there that she heard of the drug that has been usedin this case. It was she who injected the germ-free toxin, firstinto the dog, then into Mrs. Blake, she who wrote the blackmailletter which was to have explained the death. "

He paused. Evidently she had heard dimly, was straining everyeffort to hear. In her effort she caught sight of our faces. 

Suddenly, as if she had seen an apparition, she raised herselfwith almost superhuman strength. 

"Duncan!" she cried. "Duncan! Why--didn't you--get away--whilethere was time--after you warned me?"

Kennedy had wheeled about and was facing us. He was holding in hishand some of the letters he had taken from the trunk. Among otherswas a folded piece of parchment that looked like a diploma. Heunfolded it and we bent over to read. 

It was a diploma from the Central Western College of Nursing. As Iread the name written in, it was with a shock. It was not DoraSears, but Dora Baldwin. 

"A very clever plot, " he ground out, taking a step nearer us. "With the aid of your sister and a disreputable gang of chauffeursyou planned to hasten the death of Mrs. Blake, to hasten theinheritance of the Blake fortune by your future wife. I think yourcreditors will have less chance of collecting now than ever, Duncan Baldwin. "

CHAPTER XXII

THE DEVIL WORSHIPERS

Tragic though the end of the young nurse, Dora Baldwin, had been, the scheme of her brother, in which she had become fatallyinvolved, was by no means as diabolical as that in the case thatconfronted us a short time after that. 

I recall this case particularly not only because it was so weirdbut also because of the unique manner in which it began. 

"I am damned--Professor Kennedy--damned!"

The words rang out as the cry of a lost soul. A terrible look ofinexpressible anguish and fear was written on the face of Craig'svisitor, as she uttered them and sank back, trembling, in the easychair, mentally and physically convulsed. 

As nearly as I had been able to follow, Mrs. Veda Blair's storyhad dealt mostly with a Professor and Madame Rapport and somethingshe called the "Red Lodge" of the "Temple of the Occult. "

She was not exactly a young woman, although she was a veryattractive one. She was of an age that is, perhaps, even moreinteresting than youth. 

Veda Blair, I knew, had been, before her recent marriage to SewardBlair, a Treacy, of an old, though somewhat unfortunate, family. Both the Blairs and the Treacys had been intimate and old SewardBlair, when he died about a year before, had left his fortune tohis son on the condition that he marry Veda Treacy. 

"Sometimes, " faltered Mrs. Blair, "it is as though I had twosouls. One of them is dispossessed of its body and the use of itsorgans and is frantic at the sight of the other that has creptin. "

She ended her rambling story, sobbing the terrible words, "Oh--Ihave committed the unpardonable sin--I am anathema--I am damned--damned!"

She said nothing of what terrible thing she had done and Kennedy, for the present, did not try to lead the conversation. But of allthe stories that I have heard poured forth in the confessional ofthe detective's office, hers, I think, was the wildest. 

Was she insane? At least I felt that she was sincere. Still, Iwondered what sort of hallucination Craig had to deal with, asVeda Blair repeated the incoherent tale of her spiritual vagaries. 

Almost, I had begun to fancy that this was a case for a doctor, not for a detective, when suddenly she asked a most peculiarquestion. 

"Can people affect you for good or evil, merely by thinking aboutyou?" she queried. Then a shudder passed over her. "They may bethinking about me now!" she murmured in terror. 

Her fear was so real and her physical distress so evident thatKennedy, who had been listening silently for the most part, roseand hastened to reassure her. 

"Not unless you make your own fears affect yourself and so playinto their hands, " he said earnestly. 

Veda looked at him a moment, then shook her head mournfully. "Ihave seen Dr. Vaughn, " she said slowly. 

Dr. Gilbert Vaughn, I recollected, was a well-known alienist inthe city. 

"He tried to tell me the same thing, " she resumed doubtfully. "But--oh--I know what I know! I have felt the death thought--andhe knows it!"

"What do you mean?" inquired Kennedy, leaning forward keenly. 

"The death thought, " she repeated, "a malicious psychic attack. Some one is driving me to death by it. I thought I could fight itoff. I went away to escape it. Now I have come back--and I havenot escaped. There is always that disturbing influence--always--directed against me. I know it will--kill me!"

I listened, startled. The death thought! What did it mean? Whatterrible power was it? Was it hypnotism? What was this fearsome, cruel belief, this modern witchcraft that could unnerve a rich andeducated woman? Surely, after all, I felt that this was not a casefor a doctor alone; it called for a detective. 

"You see, " she went on, heroically trying to control herself, "Ihave always been interested in the mysterious, the strange, theoccult. In fact my father and my husband's father met throughtheir common interest. So, you see, I come naturally by it. 

"Not long ago I heard of Professor and Madame Rapport and theirnew Temple of the Occult. I went to it, and later Seward becameinterested, too. We have been taken into a sort of inner circle, "she continued fearfully, as though there were some evil power inthe very words themselves, "the Red Lodge. "

"You have told Dr. Vaughn?" shot out Kennedy suddenly, his eyesfixed on her face to see what it would betray. 

Veda leaned forward, as if to tell a secret, then whispered in alow voice, "He knows. Like us--he--he is a--Devil Worshiper!"

"What?" exclaimed Kennedy in wide-eyed astonishment. 

"A Devil Worshiper, " she repeated. "You haven't heard of the RedLodge?"

Kennedy nodded negatively. "Could you get us--initiated?" hehazarded. 

"P--perhaps, " she hesitated, in a half-frightened tone. "I--I'lltry to get you in to-night. "

She had risen, half dazed, as if her own temerity overwhelmed her. 

"You--poor girl, " blurted out Kennedy, his sympathies getting theupper hand for the moment as he took the hand she extended mutely. "Trust me. I will do all in my power, all in the power of modernscience to help you fight off this--influence. "

There must have been something magnetic, hypnotic in his eye. 

"I will stop here for you, " she murmured, as she almost fled fromthe room. 

Personally, I cannot say that I liked the idea of spying. It isnot usually clean and wholesome. But I realized that occasionallyit was necessary. 

"We are in for it now, " remarked Kennedy half humorously, halfseriously, "to see the Devil in the twentieth century. "

"And I, " I added, "I am, I suppose, to be the reporter to Satan. "

We said nothing more about it, but I thought much about it, andthe more I thought, the more incomprehensible the thing seemed. Ihad heard of Devil Worship, but had always associated it with far-off Indian and other heathen lands--in fact never among Caucasiansin modern times, except possibly in Paris. Was there such a culthere in my own city? I felt skeptical. 

That night, however, promptly at the appointed time, a cab calledfor us, and in it was Veda Blair, nervous but determined. 

"Seward has gone ahead, " she explained. "I told him that a friendhad introduced you, that you had studied the occult abroad. Itrust you to carry it out. "

Kennedy reassured her. 

The curtains were drawn and we could see nothing outside, thoughwe must have been driven several miles, far out into the suburbs. 

At last the cab stopped. As we left it we could see nothing of thebuilding, for the cab had entered a closed courtyard. 

"Who enters the Red Lodge?" challenged a sepulchral voice at theporte-cochere. "Give the password!"

"The Serpent's Tooth, " Veda answered. 

"Who are these?" asked the voice. 

"Neophytes, " she replied, and a whispered parley followed. 

"Then enter!" announced the voice at length. 

It was a large room into which we were first ushered, to beinducted into the rites of Satan. 

There seemed to be both men and women, perhaps half a dozenvotaries. Seward Blair was already present. As I met him, I didnot like the look in his eye; it was too stary. Dr. Vaughn wasthere, too, talking in a low tone to Madame Rapport. He shot aquick look at us. His were not eyes but gimlets that tried to boreinto your very soul. Chatting with Seward Blair was a Mrs. Langhorne, a very beautiful woman. To-night she seemed to beunnaturally excited. 

All seemed to be on most intimate terms, and, as we waited a fewminutes, I could not help recalling a sentence from Huysmans: "Theworship of the Devil is no more insane than the worship of God. The worshipers of Satan are mystics--mystics of an unclean sort, it is true, but mystics none the less. "

I did not agree with it, and did not repeat it, of course, but amoment later I overheard Dr. Vaughn saying to Kennedy: "Hoffmanbrought the Devil into modern life. Poe forgoes the aid of demonsand works patiently and precisely by the scientific method. Butthe result is the same. "

"Yes, " agreed Kennedy for the sake of appearances, "in a sense, Isuppose, we are all devil worshipers in modern society--alwayshave been. It is fear that rules and we fear the bad--not thegood. "

As we waited, I felt, more and more, the sense of the mysterious, the secret, the unknown which have always exercised a powerfulattraction on the human mind. Even the aeroplane and thesubmarine, the X-ray and wireless have not banished the occult. 

In it, I felt, there was fascination for the frivolous and deepappeal to the intellectual and spiritual. The Temple of the Occulthad evidently been designed to appeal to both types. I wonderedhow, like Lucifer, it had fallen. The prime requisite, I couldguess already, however, was--money. Was it in its worship of theroot of all evil that it had fallen?

We passed soon into another room, hung entirely in red, withweird, cabalistic signs all about, on the walls. It was uncanny, creepy. 

A huge reproduction in plaster of one of the most sardonic ofNotre Dame's gargoyles seemed to preside over everything--aterrible figure in such an atmosphere. 

As we entered, we were struck by the blinding glare of the light, in contrast with the darkened room in which we had passed ourbrief novitiate, if it might be called such. 

Suddenly the lights were extinguished. 

The great gargoyle shone with an infernal light of its own!

"Phosphorescent paint, " whispered Kennedy to me. 

Still, it did not detract from the weird effect to know whatcaused it. 

There was a startling noise in the general hush. 

"Sata!" cried one of the devotees. 

A door opened and there appeared the veritable priest of theDevil--pale of face, nose sharp, mouth bitter, eyes glassy. 

"That is Rapport, " Vaughn whispered to me. 

The worshipers crowded forward. 

Without a word, he raised his long, lean forefinger and began tosingle them out impressively. As he did so, each spoke, as ifimploring aid. 

He came to Mrs. Langhorne. 

"I have tried the charm, " she cried earnestly, "and the one whom Ilove still hates me, while the one I hate loves me!"

"Concentrate!" replied the priest, "concentrate! Think always 'Ilove him. He must love me. I want him to love me. I love him. Hemust love me. ' Over and over again you must think it. Then theother side, 'I hate him. He must leave me. I want him to leave me. I hate him--hate him. '"

Around the circle he went. 

At last his lean finger was outstretched at Veda. It seemed as ifsome imp of the perverse were compelling her unwilling tongue tounlock its secrets. 

"Sometimes, " she cried in a low, tremulous voice, "something seemsto seize me, as if by the hand and urge me onward. I cannot fleefrom it. "

"Defend yourself!" answered the priest subtly. "When you know thatsome one is trying to kill you mentally, defend yourself! Workagainst it by every means in your power. Discourage! Intimidate!Destroy!"

I marveled at these cryptic utterances. They shadowed a modernBlack Art, of which I had had no conception--a recrudescence inother language of the age-old dualism of good and evil. It was asort of mental malpractice. 

"Over and over again, " he went on speaking to her, "the samethought is to be repeated against an enemy. 'You know you aregoing to die! You know you are going to die!' Do it an hour, twohours, at a time. Others can help you, all thinking in unison thesame thought. "

What was this, I asked myself breathlessly--a new transcendentaltoxicology?

Slowly, a strange mephitic vapor seemed to exhale into the room--or was it my heightened imagination?

CHAPTER XXIII

THE PSYCHIC CURSE

There came a sudden noise--nameless--striking terror, low, rattling. I stood rooted to the spot. What was it that held me?Was it an atavistic joy in the horrible or was it merely ablasphemous curiosity?

I scarcely dared to look. 

At last I raised my eyes. There was a live snake, upraised, hisfangs striking out viciously--a rattler!

I would have drawn back and fled, but Craig caught my arm. 

"Caged, " he whispered monosyllabically. 

I shuddered. This, at least, was no drawing-room diablerie. 

"It is Ophis, " intoned Rapport, "the Serpent--the one active formin Nature that cannot be ungraceful!"

The appearance of the basilisk seemed to heighten the tension. 

At last it broke loose and then followed the most terribleblasphemies. The disciples, now all frenzied, surrounded closerthe priest, the gargoyle and the serpent. 

They worshiped with howls and obscenities. Mad laughter mingledwith pale fear and wild scorn in turns were written on the hecticfaces about me. 

They had risen--it became a dance, a reel. 

The votaries seemed to spin about on their axes, as it were, uttering a low, moaning chant as they whirled. It was a mania, thespirit of demonism. Something unseen seemed to urge them on. 

Disgusted and stifled at the surcharged atmosphere, I would havetried to leave, but I seemed frozen to the spot. I could think ofnothing except Poe's Masque of the Red Death. 

Above all the rest whirled Seward Blair himself. The laugh of thefiend, for the moment, was in his mouth. An instant he stood--theoracle of the Demon--devil-possessed. Around whirled the franticdevotees, howling. 

Shrilly he cried, "The Devil is in me!"

Forward staggered the devil dancer--tall, haggard, with deepsunken eyes and matted hair, face now smeared with dirt and blood-red with the reflection of the strange, unearthly phosphorescence. 

He reeled slowly through the crowd, crooning a quatrain, in a low, monotonous voice, his eyelids drooping and his head forward on hisbreast:

 If the Red Slayer think he slays, Or the slain think he is slain, They know not well the subtle ways I keep and pass and turn again!

Entranced the whirling crowd paused and watched. One of theirnumber had received the "power. "

He was swaying slowly to and fro. 

"Look!" whispered Kennedy. 

His fingers twitched, his head wagged uncannily. Perspirationseemed to ooze from every pore. His breast heaved. 

He gave a sudden yell--ear-piercing. Then followed a screech ofhellish laughter. 

The dance had ended, the dancers spellbound at the sight. 

He was whirling slowly, eyes protruding now, mouth foaming, chestrising and falling like a bellows, muscles quivering. 

Cries, vows, imprecations, prayers, all blended in an infernalhubbub. 

With a burst of ghastly, guttural laughter, he shrieked, "I AM theDevil!"

His arms waved--cutting, sawing, hacking the air. 

The votaries, trembling, scarcely moved, breathed, as he danced. 

Suddenly he gave a great leap into the air--then fell, motionless. They crowded around him. The fiendish look was gone--the demoniaclaughter stilled. 

It was over. 

The tension of the orgy had been too much for us. We parted, withscarcely a word, and yet I could feel that among the rest therewas a sort of unholy companionship. 

Silently, Kennedy and I drove away in the darkened cab, this timewith Seward and Veda Blair and Mrs. Langhorne. 

For several minutes not a word was said. I was, however, muchoccupied in watching the two women. It was not because of anythingthey said or did. That was not necessary. But I felt that therewas a feud, something that set them against each other. 

"How would Rapport use the death thought, I wonder?" asked Craigspeculatively, breaking the silence. 

Blair answered quickly. "Suppose some one tried to break away, torenounce the Lodge, expose its secrets. They would treat him so asto make him harmless--perhaps insane, confused, afraid to talk, paralyzed, or even to commit suicide or be killed in an accident. They would put the death thought on him!"

Even in the prosaic jolting of the cab, away from the terriblemysteries of the Red Lodge, one could feel the spell. 

The cab stopped. Seward was on his feet in a moment and handingMrs. Langhorne out at her home. For a moment they paused on thesteps for an exchange of words. 

In that moment I caught flitting over the face of Veda a look ofhatred, more intense, more real, more awful than any that had beeninduced under the mysteries of the rites at the Lodge. 

It was gone in an instant, and as Seward rejoined us I felt that, with Mrs. Langhorne gone, there was less restraint. I wonderedwhether it was she who had inspired the fear in Veda. 

Although it was more comfortable, the rest of our journey was madein silence and the Blairs dropped us at our apartment with manyexpressions of cordiality as we left them to proceed to their own. 

"Of one thing I'm sure, " I remarked, entering the room where onlya few short hours before Mrs. Blair had related her strange tale. "Whatever the cause of it, the devil dancers don't sham. "

Kennedy did not reply. He was apparently wrapped up in theconsideration of the remarkable events of the evening. 

As for myself, it was a state of affairs which, the day before, Ishould have pronounced utterly beyond the wildest bounds of theimagination of the most colorful writer. Yet here it was; I hadseen it. 

I glanced up to find Kennedy standing by the light examiningsomething he had apparently picked up at the Red Lodge. I bentover to look at it, too. It was a little glass tube. 

"An ampoule, I believe the technical name of such a container is, "he remarked, holding it closer to the light. 

In it were the remains of a dried yellow substance, broken upminutely, resembling crystals. 

"Who dropped it?" I asked. 

"Vaughn, I think, " he replied. "At least, I saw him near Blair, stooping over him, at the end, and I imagine this is what I sawgleaming for an instant in the light. "

Kennedy said nothing more, and for my part I was thoroughly at seaand could make nothing out of it all. 

"What object can such a man as Dr. Vaughn possibly have infrequenting such a place?" I asked at length, adding, "And there'sthat Mrs. Langhorne--she was interesting, too. "

Kennedy made no direct reply. "I shall have them shadowed to-morrow, " he said briefly, "while I am at work in the laboratoryover this ampoule. "

As usual, also, Craig had begun on his scientific studies longbefore I was able to shake myself loose from the nightmares thathaunted me after our weird experience of the evening. 

He had already given the order to an agency for the shadowing, andhis next move was to start me out, also, looking into the historyof those concerned in the case. As far as I was able to determine, Dr. Vaughn had an excellent reputation, and I could find no reasonwhatever for his connection with anything of the nature of the RedLodge. The Rapports seemed to be nearly unknown in New York, although it was reported that they had come from Paris lately. Mrs. Langhorne was a divorcee from one of the western states, butlittle was known about her, except that she always seemed to bewell supplied with money. It seemed to be well known in the circlein which Seward Blair moved that he was friendly with her, and Ihad about reached the conclusion that she was unscrupulouslymaking use of his friendship, perhaps was not above such a thingas blackmail. 

Thus the day passed, and we heard no word from Veda Blair, although that was explained by the shadows, whose trails crossedin a most unexpected manner. Their reports showed that there was ameeting at the Red Lodge during the late afternoon, at which allhad been present except Dr. Vaughn. We learned also from them theexact location of the Lodge, in an old house just across the linein Westchester. 

It was evidently a long and troublesome analysis that Craig wasengaged in at the laboratory, for it was some hours after dinnerthat night when he came into the apartment, and even then he saidnothing, but buried himself in some of the technical works withwhich his library was stocked. He said little, but I gathered thathe was in great doubt about something, perhaps, as much asanything, about how to proceed with so peculiar a case. 

It was growing late, and Kennedy was still steeped in his books, when the door of the apartment, which we happened to have leftunlocked, was suddenly thrown open and Seward Blair burst in onus, wildly excited. 

"Veda is gone!" he cried, before either of us could ask him whatwas the matter. 

"Gone?" repeated Kennedy. "How--where?"

"I don't know, " Blair blurted out breathlessly. "We had been outtogether this afternoon, and I returned with her. Then I went outto the club after dinner for a while, and when I got back I missedher--not quarter of an hour ago. I burst into her room--and thereI found this note. Read it. I don't know what to do. No one seemsto know what has become of her. I've called up all over and thenthought perhaps you might help me, might know some friend of hersthat I don't know, with whom she might have gone out. "

Blair was plainly eager for us to help him. Kennedy took the paperfrom him. On it, in a trembling hand, were scrawled some words, evidently addressed to Blair himself:

"You would forgive me and pity me if you knew what I have beenthrough. 

"When I refused to yield my will to the will of the Lodge Isuppose I aroused the enmity of the Lodge. 

"To-night as I lay in bed, alone, I felt that my hour had come, that mental forces that were almost irresistible were beingdirected against me. 

"I realized that I must fight not only for my sanity but for mylife. 

"For hours I have fought that fight. 

"But during those hours, some one, I won't say who, seemed to havedeveloped such psychic faculties of penetration that they wereable to make their bodies pass through the walls of my room. 

"At last I am conquered. I pray that you--"

The writing broke off abruptly, as if she had left it in wildflight. 

"What does that mean?" asked Kennedy, "the 'will of the Lodge'?"

Blair looked at us keenly. I fancied that there was even somethingaccusatory in the look. "Perhaps it was some mental reservation onher part, " he suggested. "You do not know yourself of any reasonwhy she should fear anything, do you?" he asked pointedly. 

Kennedy did not betray even by the motion of an eyelash that weknew more than we should ostensibly. 

There was a tap at the door. I sprang to open it, thinkingperhaps, after all, it was Veda herself. 

Instead, a man, a stranger, stood there. 

"Is this Professor Kennedy?" he asked, touching his hat. 

Craig nodded. 

"I am from the psychopathic ward of the City Hospital--an orderly, sir, " the man introduced. 

"Yes, " encouraged Craig, "what can I do for you?"

"A Mrs. Blair has just been brought in, sir, and we can't find herhusband. She's calling for you now. "

Kennedy stared from the orderly to Seward Blair, startled, speechless. 

"What has happened?" asked Blair anxiously. "I am Mr. Blair. "

The orderly shook his head. He had delivered his message. That wasall he knew. 

"What do you suppose it is?" I asked, as we sped across town in ataxicab. "Is it the curse that she dreaded?"

Kennedy said nothing and Blair appeared to hear nothing. His facewas drawn in tense lines. 

The psychopathic ward is at once one of the most interesting andone of the most depressing departments of a large city hospital, harboring, as it does, all from the more or less harmless insaneto violent alcoholics and wrecked drug fiends. 

Mrs. Blair, we learned, had been found hatless, without money, dazed, having fallen, after an apparently aimless wandering in thestreets. 

For the moment she lay exhausted on the white bed of the ward, eyes glazed, pupils contracted, pulse now quick, now almostevanescent, face drawn, breathing difficult, moaning now and thenin physical and mental agony. 

Until she spoke it was impossible to tell what had happened, butthe ambulance surgeon had found a little red mark on her whiteforearm and had pointed it out, evidently with the idea that shewas suffering from a drug. 

At the mere sight of the mark, Blair stared as though hypnotized. Leaning over to Kennedy, so that the others could not hear, hewhispered, "It is the mark of the serpent!"

Our arrival had been announced to the hospital physician, whoentered and stood for a moment looking at the patient. 

"I think it is a drug--a poison, " he said meditatively. 

"You haven't found out yet what it is, then?" asked Craig. 

The physician shook his head doubtfully. "Whatever it is, " he saidslowly, "it is closely allied to the cyanide groups in itsrapacious activity. I haven't the slightest idea of its truenature, but it seems to have a powerful affinity for importantnerve centers of respiration and muscular coordination, as well asfor disorganizing the blood. I should say that it produces deathby respiratory paralysis and convulsions. To my mind it is anexact, though perhaps less active, counterpart of hydrocyanicacid. "

Kennedy had been listening intently at the start, but before thephysician had finished he had bent over and made a ligaturequickly with his handkerchief. 

Then he dispatched a messenger with a note. Next he cut about theminute wound on her arm until the blood flowed, cupping it toincrease the flow. Now and then he had them administer a littlestimulant. 

He had worked rapidly, while Blair watched him with a sort offascination. 

"Get Dr. Vaughn, " ordered Craig, as soon as he had a breathingspell after his quick work, adding, "and Professor and MadameRapport. Walter, attend to that, will you? I think you will findan officer outside. You'll have to compel them to come, if theywon't come otherwise, " he added, giving the address of the Lodge, as we had found it. 

Blair shot a quick look at him, as though Craig in his knowledgewere uncanny. Apparently, the address had been a secret which hethought we did not know. 

I managed to find an officer and dispatch him for the Rapports. Ahospital orderly, I thought, would serve to get Dr. Vaughn. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH

I had scarcely returned to the ward when, suddenly, an unnaturalstrength seemed to be infused into Veda. 

She had risen in bed. 

"It shall not catch me!" she cried in a new paroxysm of namelessterror. "No--no--it is pursuing me. I am never out of its grasp. Ihave been thought six feet underground--I know it. There it isagain--still driving me--still driving me!

"Will it never stop? Will no one stop it? Save me! It--is thedeath thought!"

She had risen convulsively and had drawn back in abject, coweringterror. What was it she saw? Evidently it was very real and veryawful. It pursued her relentlessly. 

As she lay there, rolling her eyes about, she caught sight of usand recognized us for the first time, although she had beencalling for us. 

"They had the thought on you, too, Professor Kennedy, " she almostscreamed. "Hour after hour, Rapport and the rest repeated over andover again, 'Why does not some one kill him? Why does he not die?'They knew you--even when I brought you to the Red Lodge. Theythought you were a spy. "

I turned to Kennedy. He had advanced and was leaning over to catchevery word. Blair was standing behind me and she had not seen herhusband yet. A quick glance showed me that he was trembling fromhead to foot like a leaf, as though he, too, were pursued by thenameless terror. 

"What did they do?" Kennedy asked in a low tone. 

Fearfully, gripping the bars of the iron bed, as though they weresome tangible support for her mind, she answered: "They would gettogether. 'Now, all of you, ' they said, 'unite yourselves inthought against our enemy, against Kennedy, that he must leave offpersecuting us. He is ripe for destruction!'"

Kennedy glanced sidewise at me, with a significant look. 

"God grant, " she implored, "that none haunt me for what I havedone in my ignorance!"

Just then the door opened and my messenger entered, accompanied byDr. Vaughn. 

I had turned to catch the expression on Blair's face just in time. It was a look of abject appeal. 

Before Dr. Vaughn could ask a question, or fairly take in thesituation, Kennedy had faced him. 

"What was the purpose of all that elaborate mummery out at the RedLodge?" asked Kennedy pointblank. 

I think I looked at Craig in no less amazement than Vaughn. Inspite of the dramatic scenes through which we had passed, thespell of the occult had not fallen on him for an instant. 

"Mummery?" repeated Dr. Vaughn, bending his penetrating eyes onKennedy, as if he would force him to betray himself first. 

"Yes, " reiterated Craig. "You know as well as I do that it hasbeen said that it is a well-established fact that the world wantsto be deceived and is willing to pay for the privilege. "

Dr. Vaughn still gazed from one to the other of us defiantly. 

"You know what I mean, " persisted Kennedy, "the mumbo-jumbo--justas the Haitian obi man sticks pins in a doll or melts a wax figureof his enemy. That is supposed to be an outward sign. But back ofthis terrible power that people believe moves in darkness andmystery is something tangible--something real. "

Dr. Vaughn looked up sharply at him, I think mistaking Kennedy'smeaning. If he did, all doubt that Kennedy attributed anything tothe supernatural was removed as he went on: "At first I had noexplanation of the curious events I have just witnessed, and themore I thought about them, the more obscure did they seem. 

"I have tried to reason the thing out, " he continued thoughtfully. "Did auto-suggestion, self-hypnotism explain what I have seen? HasVeda Blair been driven almost to death by her own fears only?"

No one interrupted and he answered his own question. "Somehow theidea that it was purely fear that had driven her on did notsatisfy me. As I said, I wanted something more tangible. I couldnot help thinking that it was not merely subjective. There wassomething objective, some force at work, something more thanpsychic in the result achieved by this criminal mental marauder, whoever it is. "

I was following Kennedy's reasoning now closely. As he proceeded, the point that he was making seemed more clear to me. 

Persons of a certain type of mind could be really mentallyunbalanced by such methods which we had heard outlined, where themere fact of another trying to exert power over them became knownto them. They would, as a matter of fact, unbalance themselves, thinking about and fighting off imaginary terrors. 

Such people, I could readily see, might be quickly controlled, andin the wake of such control would follow stifled love, wreckedhomes, ruined fortunes, suicide and even death. 

Dr. Vaughn leaned forward critically. "What did you conclude, then, was the explanation of what you saw last night?" he askedsharply. 

Kennedy met his question squarely, without flinching. "It looks tome, " he replied quietly, "like a sort of hystero-epilepsy. It iswell known, I believe, to demonologists--those who have studiedthis sort of thing. They have recognized the contortions, thescreams, the wild, blasphemous talk, the cataleptic rigidity. Theyare epileptiform. "

Vaughn said nothing, but continued to weigh Kennedy as if in abalance. I, who knew him, knew that it would take a greater thanVaughn to find him wanting, once Kennedy chose to speak. As forVaughn, was he trying to hide behind some technicality in medicalethics?

"Dr. Vaughn, " continued Craig, as if goading him to the point ofbreaking down his calm silence, "you are specialist enough to knowthese things as well, better than I do. You must know thatepilepsy is one of the most peculiar diseases. 

"The victim may be in good physical condition, apparently. Infact, some hardly know that they have it. But it is something morethan merely the fits. Always there is something wrong mentally. Itis not the motor disturbance so much as the disturbance ofconsciousness. "

Kennedy was talking slowly, deliberately, so that none could dropa link in the reasoning. 

"Perhaps one in ten epileptics has insane periods, more or less, "he went on, "and there is no more dangerous form of insanity. Self-consciousness is lost, and in this state of automatism theworst of crimes have been committed without the subsequentknowledge of the patient. In that state they are no moreresponsible than are the actors in one's dreams. "

The hospital physician entered, accompanied by Craig's messenger, breathless. Craig almost seized the package from his hands andbroke the seal. 

"Ah--this is what I wanted, " he exclaimed, with an air of relief, forgetting for the time the exposition of the case that he wasengaged in. "Here I have some anti-crotalus venine, of Drs. Flexner and Noguchi. Fortunately, in the city it is within easyreach. "

Quickly, with the aid of the physician he injected it into Veda'sarm. 

"Of all substances in nature, " he remarked, still at work over theunfortunate woman, "none is so little known as the venom ofserpents. "

It was a startling idea which the sentence had raised in my mind. All at once I recalled the first remark of Seward Blair, in whichhe had repeated the password that had admitted us into the RedLodge--"the Serpent's Tooth. " Could it have been that she hadreally been bitten at some of the orgies by the serpent which theyworshiped hideously hissing in its cage? I was sure that, at leastuntil they were compelled, none would say anything about it. Wasthat the interpretation of the almost hypnotized look on Blair'sface?

"We know next to nothing of the composition of the protein bodiesin the venoms which have such terrific, quick physiologicaleffects, " Kennedy was saying. "They have been studied, it is true, but we cannot really say that they are understood--or even thatthere are any adequate tests by which they can be recognized. Thefact is, that snake venoms are about the safest of poisons for thecriminal. "

Kennedy had scarcely propounded this startling idea when a car washeard outside. The Rapports had arrived, with the officer I hadsent after them, protesting and threatening. 

They quieted down a bit as they entered, and after a quick glancearound saw who was present. 

Professor Rapport gave one glance at the victim lying exhausted onthe bed, then drew back, melodramatically, and cried, "TheSerpent--the mark of the serpent!"

For a moment Kennedy gazed full in the eyes of them all. 

"WAS it a snake bite?" he asked slowly, then, turning to Mrs. Blair, after a quick glance, he went on rapidly, "The first thingto ascertain is whether the mark consists of two isolatedpunctures, from the poison-conducting teeth or fangs of the snake, which are constructed like a hypodermic needle. "

The hospital physician had bent over her at the words, and beforeKennedy could go on interrupted: "This was not a snake bite; itwas more likely from an all-glass hypodermic syringe with aplatinum-iridium needle. "

Professor Rapport, priest of the Devil, advanced a step menacinglytoward Kennedy. "Remember, " he said in a low, angry tone, "remember--you are pledged to keep the secrets of the Red Lodge!"

Craig brushed aside the sophistry with a sentence. "I do notrecognize any secrets that I have to keep about the meeting thisafternoon to which you summoned the Blairs and Mrs. Langhorne, according to reports from the shadows I had placed on Mrs. Langhorne and Dr. Vaughn. "

If there is such a thing as the evil eye, Rapport's must have beena pair of them, as he realized that Kennedy had resorted to thesimple devices of shadowing the devotees. 

A cry, almost a shriek, startled us. Kennedy's encounter withRapport had had an effect which none of us had considered. Thestep or two in advance which the prophet had taken had brought himinto the line of vision of the still half-stupefied Veda lyingback of Kennedy on the hospital cot. 

The mere sight of him, the sound of his voice and the mention ofthe Red Lodge had been sufficient to penetrate that stupor. Shewas sitting bolt upright, a ghastly, trembling specter. Slowly asmile seemed to creep over the cruel face of the mystic. Was itnot a recognition of his hypnotic power?

Kennedy turned and laid a gentle hand on the quaking convulsedfigure of the woman. One could feel the electric tension in theair, the battle of two powers for good or evil. Which would win--the old fascination of the occult or the new power of science?

It was a dramatic moment. Yet not so dramatic as the outcome. Tomy surprise, neither won. 

Suddenly she caught sight of her husband. Her face changed. Allthe prehistoric jealousy of which woman is capable seemed to blazeforth. 

"I will defend myself!" she cried. "I will fight back! She shallnot win--she shall not have you--no--she shall not--never!"

I recalled the strained feeling between the two women that I hadnoticed in the cab. Was it Mrs. Langhorne who had been thedisturbing influence, whose power she feared, over herself andover her husband?

Rapport had fallen back a step, but not from the mind of Kennedy. 

"Here, " challenged Craig, facing the group and drawing from hispocket the glass ampoule, "I picked this up at the Red Lodge lastnight. "

He held it out in his hand before the Rapports so that they couldnot help but see it. Were they merely good actors? They betrayednothing, at least by face or action. 

"It is crotalin, " he announced, "the venom of the rattlesnake--crotalus horridus. It has been noticed that persons suffering fromcertain diseases of which epilepsy is one, after having beenbitten by a rattlesnake, if they recover from the snake bite, arecured of the disease. "

Kennedy was forging straight ahead now in his exposure. "Crotalin, " he continued, "is one of the new drugs used in thetreatment of epilepsy. But it is a powerful two-edged instrument. Some one who knew the drug, who perhaps had used it, has tried anartificial bite of a rattler on Veda Blair, not for epilepsy, butfor another, diabolical purpose, thinking to cover up the crime, either as the result of the so-called death thought of the Lodgeor as the bite of the real rattler at the Lodge. "

Kennedy had at last got under Dr. Vaughn's guard. All hisreticence was gone. 

"I joined the cult, " he confessed. "I did it in order to observeand treat one of my patients for epilepsy. I justified myself. Isaid, 'I will be the exposer, not the accomplice, of this modernSatanism. ' I joined it and--"

"There is no use trying to shield anyone, Vaughn, " rapped outKennedy, scarcely taking time to listen. "An epileptic of the mostdangerous criminal type has arranged this whole elaborate settingas a plot to get rid of the wife who brought him his fortune andnow stands in the way of his unholy love of Mrs. Langhorne. Heused you to get the poison with which you treated him. He used theRapports with money to play on her mysticism by their so-calleddeath thought, while he watched his opportunity to inject thefatal crotalin. "

Craig faced the criminal, whose eyes now showed more plainly thanwords his deranged mental condition, and in a low tone added, "TheDevil is in you, Seward Blair!"

CHAPTER XXV

THE "HAPPY DUST"

Veda Blair's rescue from the strange use that was made of thevenom came at a time when the city was aroused as it never hadbeen before over the nation-wide agitation against drugs. 

Already, it will be recalled, Kennedy and I had had some recentexperience with dope fiends of various kinds, but this case I setdown because it drew us more intimately into the crusade. 

"I've called on you, Professor Kennedy, to see if I can't interestyou in the campaign I am planning against drugs. "

Mrs. Claydon Sutphen, social leader and suffragist, had scarcelymore than introduced herself when she launched earnestly into thereason for her visit to us. 

"You don't realize it, perhaps, " she continued rapidly, "but veryoften a little silver bottle of tablets is as much a necessary tosome women of the smart set as cosmetics. "

"I've heard of such cases, " nodded Craig encouragingly. 

"Well, you see I became interested in the subject, " she added, "when I saw some of my own friends going down. That's how I cameto plan the campaign in the first place. "

She paused, evidently nervous. "I've been threatened, too, " shewent on, "but I'm not going to give up the fight. People thinkthat drugs are a curse only to the underworld, but they have noidea what inroads the habit has made in the upper world, too. Oh, it is awful!" she exclaimed. 

Suddenly, she leaned over and whispered, "Why, there's my ownsister, Mrs. Garrett. She began taking drugs after an operation, and now they have a terrible hold on her. I needn't try to concealanything. It's all been published in the papers--everybody knowsit. Think of it--divorced, disgraced, all through these curseddrugs! Dr. Coleman, our family physician, has done everythingknown to break up the habit, but he hasn't succeeded. "

Dr. Coleman, I knew, was a famous society physician. If he hadfailed, I wondered why she thought a detective might succeed. Butit was evidently another purpose she had in mind in introducingthe subject. 

"So you can understand what it all means to me, personally, " sheresumed, with a sigh. "I've studied the thing--I've been forced tostudy it. Why, now the exploiters are even making drug fiends ofmere--children!"

Mrs. Sutphen spread out a crumpled sheet of note paper before uson which was written something in a trembling scrawl. "Forinstance, here's a letter I received only yesterday. "

Kennedy glanced over it carefully. It was signed "A Friend, " andread:

"I have heard of your drug war in the newspapers and wish to helpyou, only I don't dare to do so openly. But I can assure you thatif you will investigate what I am about to tell you, you will soonbe on the trail of those higher up in this terrible drug business. There is a little center of the traffic on West 66th Street, justoff Broadway. I cannot tell you more, but if you can investigateit, you will be doing more good than you can possibly realize now. There is one girl there, whom they call 'Snowbird. ' If you couldonly get hold of her quietly and place her in a sanitarium youmight save her yet. "

Craig was more than ordinarily interested. "And the children--whatdid you mean by that?"

"Why, it's literally true, " asserted Mrs. Sutphen in a horrifiedtone. "Some of the victims are actually school children. Up therein 66th Street we have found a man named Armstrong, who seems tobe very friendly with this young girl whom they call 'Snowbird. 'Her real name, by the way, is Sawtelle, I believe. She can't beover eighteen, a mere child, yet she's a slave to the stuff. "

"Oh, then you have actually already acted on the hint in theletter?" asked Craig. 

"Yes, " she replied, "I've had one of the agents of our Anti-DrugSociety, a social worker, investigating the neighborhood. "

Kennedy nodded for her to go on. 

"I've even investigated myself a little, and now I want to employsome one to break the thing up. My husband had heard of you and sohere I am. Can you help me?"

There was a note of appeal in her voice that was irresistible to aman who had the heart of Kennedy. 

"Tell me just what you have discovered so far, " he asked simply. 

"Well, " she replied slowly, "after my agent verified the contentsof the letter, I watched until I saw this girl--she's a merechild, as I said--going to a cabaret in the neighborhood. Whatstruck me was that I saw her go in looking like a wreck and comeout a beautiful creature, with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, almostyouthful again. A most remarkable girl she is, too, " mused Mrs. Sutphen, "who always wears a white gown, white hat, white shoesand white stockings. It must be a mania with her. "

Mrs. Sutphen seemed to have exhausted her small store ofinformation, and as she rose to go Kennedy rose also. "I shall beglad to look into the case, Mrs. Sutphen, " he promised. "I'm surethere is something that can be done--there must be. "

"Thank you, ever so much, " she murmured, as she paused at thedoor, something still on her mind. "And perhaps, too, " she added, "you may run across my sister, Mrs. Garrett. "

"Indeed, " he assured her, "if there is anything I can possibly dothat will assist you personally, I shall be only too happy to doit. "

"Thank you again, ever so much, " she repeated with just a littlechoke in her voice. 

For several moments Kennedy sat contemplating the anonymous letterwhich she had left with him, studying both its contents and thehandwriting. 

"We must go over the ground up there again, " he remarked finally. "Perhaps we can do better than Mrs. Sutphen and her druginvestigator have done. "

Half an hour later we had arrived and were sauntering along thestreet in question, walking slowly up and down in the now fast-gathering dusk. It was a typical cheap apartment block ofvariegated character, with people sitting idly on the narrow frontsteps and children spilling out into the roadway in imminentdanger of their young lives from every passing automobile. 

On the crowded sidewalk a creation in white hurtled past us. Oneglance at the tense face in the flickering arc light was enoughfor Kennedy. He pulled my arm and we turned and followed at a safedistance. 

She looked like a girl who could not have been more than eighteen, if she was as old as that. She was pretty, too, but already herface was beginning to look old and worn from the use of drugs. Itwas unmistakable. 

In spite of the fact that she was hurrying, it was not difficultto follow her in the crowd, as she picked her way in and out, andfinally turned into Broadway where the white lights were welcomingthe night. 

Under the glare of a huge electric sign she stopped a moment, thenentered one of the most notorious of the cabarets. 

We entered also at a discreet distance and sat down at a table. 

"Don't look around, Walter, " whispered Craig, as the waiter tookour order, "but to your right is Mrs. Sutphen. "

If he had mentioned any other name in the world, I could not havebeen more surprised. I waited impatiently until I could pick herout from the corner of my eye. Sure enough, it was Mrs. Sutphenand another woman. What they were doing there I could not imagine, for neither had the look of habitues of such a place. 

I followed Kennedy's eye and found that he was gazing furtively ata flashily dressed young man who was sitting alone at the far endin a sort of booth upholstered in leather. 

The girl in white, whom I was now sure was Miss Sawtelle, wentover and greeted him. It was too far to see just what happened, but the young woman after sitting down rose and left almostimmediately. As nearly as I could make out, she had got somethingfrom him which she had dropped into her handbag and was nowhugging the handbag close to herself almost as if it were gold. 

We sat for a few minutes debating just what to do, when Mrs. Sutphen and her friend rose. As she passed out, a quick, covertglance told us to follow. We did so and the two turned intoBroadway. 

"Let me present you to Miss McCann, " introduced Mrs. Sutphen as wecaught up with them. "Miss McCann is a social worker and trainedinvestigator whom I'm employing. "

We bowed, but before we could ask a question, Mrs. Sutphen criedexcitedly: "I think I have a clue, anyway. We've traced the sourceof the drugs at least as far as that young fellow, 'Whitecap, 'whom you saw in there. "

I had not recognized his face, although I had undoubtedly seenpictures of him before. But no sooner had I heard the name than Irecognized it as that of one of the most notorious gang leaders onthe West Side. 

Not only that, but Whitecap's gang played an important part inlocal politics. There was scarcely a form of crime or vice towhich Whitecap and his followers could not turn a skilled hand, whether it was swinging an election, running a gambling club, ordispensing "dope. "

"You see, " she explained, "even before I saw you, my suspicionswere aroused and I determined to obtain some of the stuff they areusing up here, if possible. I realized it would be useless for meto try to get it myself, so I got Miss McCann from theNeighborhood House to try it. She got it and has turned the bottleover to me. "

"May I see it?" asked Craig eagerly. 

Mrs. Sutphen reached hastily into her handbag, drew forth a smallbrown glass bottle and handed it to him. Craig retreated into oneof the less dark side streets. There he pulled out the paraffinnedcork from the bottle, picked out a piece of cotton stuffed in theneck of the bottle and poured out some flat tablets that showed aglistening white in the palm of his hand. For an instant heregarded them. 

"I may keep these?" he asked. 

"Certainly, " replied Mrs. Sutphen. "That's what I had Miss McCannget them for. "

Kennedy dropped the bottle into his pocket. 

"So that was the gang leader, 'Whitecap, '" he remarked as weturned again to Broadway. 

"Yes, " replied Mrs. Sutphen. "At certain hours, I believe he canbe found at that cabaret selling this stuff, whatever it is, toanyone who comes properly introduced. The thing seems to be soopen and notorious that it amounts to a scandal. "

We parted a moment later, Mrs. Sutphen and Miss McCann to go tothe settlement house, Craig and I to continue our investigations. 

"First of all, Walter, " he said as we swung aboard an uptown car, "I want to stop at the laboratory. "

In his den, which had been the scene of so many triumphs, Kennedybegan a hasty examination of the tablets, powdering one andtesting it with one chemical after another. 

"What are they?" I asked at length when he seemed to have foundthe right reaction which gave him the clue. 

"Happy dust, " he answered briefly. 

"Happy dust?" I repeated, looking at him a moment in doubt as towhether he was joking or serious. "What is that?"

"The Tenderloin name for heroin--a comparatively new derivative ofmorphine. It is really morphine treated with acetic acid whichrenders it more powerful than morphine alone. "

"How do they take them? What's the effect?" I asked. 

"The person who uses heroin usually powders the tablets and snuffsthe powder up the nose, " he answered. "In a short time, perhapsonly two or three weeks, one can become a confirmed victim of'happy dust. ' And while one is under its influence he is morally, physically and mentally irresponsible. "

Kennedy was putting away the paraphernalia he had used, meanwhiletalking about the drug. "One of the worst aspects of it, too, " hecontinued, "is the desire of the user to share his experience withsome one else. This passing on of the habit, which seems to be oneof the strongest desires of the drug fiend, makes him even moredangerous to society than he would otherwise be. It makes itharder for anyone once addicted to a drug to shake it off, for hisfriends will give him no chance. The only thing to do is to getthe victim out of his environment and into an entirely new scene. "

The laboratory table cleared again, Kennedy had dropped into adeep study. 

"Now, why was Mrs. Sutphen there?" he asked aloud. "I can't thinkit was solely through her interest for that girl they callSnowbird. She was interested in her, but she made no attempt tointerfere or to follow her. No, there must have been anotherreason. "

"You don't think she's a dope fiend herself, do you?" I askedhurriedly. 

Kennedy smiled. "Hardly, Walter. If she has any obsession on thesubject, it is more likely to lead her to actual fanaticismagainst all stimulants and narcotics and everything connected withthem. No, you might possibly persuade me that two and two equalfive--but not seventeen. It's not very late. I think we might makeanother visit to that cabaret and see whether the same thing isgoing on yet. "

CHAPTER XXVI

THE BINET TEST

We rode downtown again and again sauntered in, this time with thetheater crowd. Our first visit had been so quiet andunostentatious that the second attracted no attention or commentfrom the waiters, or anyone else. 

As we sat down we glanced over, and there in his corner still wasWhitecap. Apparently his supply of the dope was inexhaustible, forhe was still dispensing it. As we watched the tenderloin habituescome and go, I came soon to recognize the signs by the mere lookon the face--the pasty skin, the vacant eye, the nervous quiver ofthe muscles as though every organ and every nerve were crying outfor more of the favorite nepenthe. Time and again I noticed thevictims as they sat at the tables, growing more and more haggardand worn, until they could stand it no longer. Then they wouldretire, sometimes after a visit across the floor to Whitecap, moreoften directly, for they had stocked themselves up with the drugevidently after the first visit to him. But always they would comeback, changed in appearance, with what seemed to be a new lease oflife, but nevertheless still as recognizable as drug victims. 

It was not long, as we waited, before another woman, older thanMiss Sawtelle, but dressed in an extreme fashion, hurried into thecabaret and with scarcely a look to right or left went directly toWhitecap's corner. I noticed that she, too, had the look. 

There was a surreptitious passing of a bottle in exchange for atreasury note, and she dropped into the seat beside him. 

Before he could interfere, she had opened the bottle, crushed atablet or two in a napkin, and was holding it to her face asthough breathing the most exquisite perfume. With one quickinspiration of her breath after another, she was snuffing thepowder up her nose. 

Whitecap with an angry gesture pulled the napkin from her face, and one could fancy his snarl under his breath, "Say--do you wantto get me in wrong here?"

But it was too late. Some at least of the happy dust had takeneffect, at least enough to relieve the terrible pangs she musthave been suffering. 

As she rose and retired, with a hasty apology to Whitecap for herindiscretion, Kennedy turned to me and exclaimed, "Think of it. The deadliest of all habits is the simplest. No hypodermic; nopipe; no paraphernalia of any kind. It's terrible. "

She returned to sit down and enjoy herself, careful not to obtrudeherself on Whitecap lest he might become angry at the mere sightof her and treasure his anger up against the next time when shewould need the drug. 

Already there was the most marvelous change in her. She seemedcaptivated by the music, the dancing, the life which a few momentsbefore she had totally disregarded. 

She was seated alone, not far from us, and as she glanced aboutKennedy caught her eye. She allowed her gaze to rest on us for amoment, the signal for a mild flirtation which ended in ourexchange of tables and we found ourselves opposite the drug fiend, who was following up the taking of the dope by a thin-stemmedglass of a liqueur. 

I do not recall the conversation, but it was one of thoseinconsequential talks that Bohemians consider so brilliant andeverybody else so vapid. As we skimmed from one subject toanother, treating the big facts of life as if they were mereincidents and the little as if they overshadowed all else, I couldsee that Craig, who had a faculty of probing into the very soul ofanyone, when he chose, was gradually leading around to a subjectwhich I knew he wanted, above all others, to discuss. 

It was not long before, as the most natural remark in the worldfollowing something he had made her say, just as a cleverprestidigitator forces a card, he asked, "What was it I saw yousnuffing over in the booth--happy dust?"

She did not even take the trouble to deny it, but nodded a brazen"Yes. " "How did you come to use it first?" he asked, careful notto give offense in either tone or manner. 

"The usual way, I suppose, " she replied with a laugh that soundedharsh and grating. "I was ill and I found out what it was thedoctor was giving me. "

"And then?"

"Oh, I thought I would use it only as long as it served my purposeand, when that was over, give it up. "

"But--?" prompted Craig hypnotically. 

"Instead, I was soon using six, eight, ten tablets of heroin aday. I found that I needed that amount in order to live. Then itwent up by leaps to twenty, thirty, forty. "

"Suppose you couldn't get it, what then?"

"Couldn't get it?" she repeated with an unspeakable horror. "OnceI thought I'd try to stop. But my heart skipped beats; then itseemed to pound away, as if trying to break through my ribs. Idon't think heroin is like other drugs. When one has her 'coke'--that's cocaine--taken away, she feels like a rag. Fill her up andshe can do anything again. But, heroin--I think one might murderto get it!"

The expression on the woman's face was almost tragic. I verilybelieve that she meant it. 

"Why, " she cried, "if anyone had told me a year ago that the timewould ever come when I would value some tiny white tablets aboveanything else in the world, yes, and even above my immortal soul, I would have thought him a lunatic. "

It was getting late, and as the woman showed no disposition toleave, Kennedy and I excused ourselves. 

Outside Craig looked at me keenly. "Can you guess who that was?"

"Although she didn't tell us her name, " I replied, "I am morallycertain that it was Mrs. Garrett. "

"Precisely, " he answered, "and what a shame, too, for she mustevidently once have been a woman of great education andrefinement. "

He shook his head sadly. "Walter, there isn't likely to beanything that we can do for some hours now. I have a littleexperiment I'd like to make. Suppose you publish for me a story inthe Star about the campaign against drugs. Tell about what we haveseen to-night, mention the cabaret by indirection and Whitecapdirectly. Then we can sit back and see what happens. We've got tothrow a scare into them somehow, if we are going to smoke outanyone higher up than Whitecap. But you'll have to be careful, forif they suspect us our usefulness in the case will be over. "

Together, Kennedy and I worked over our story far into the nightdown at the Star office, and the following day waited to seewhether anything came of it. 

It was with a great deal of interest tempered by fear that wedropped into the cabaret the following evening. Fortunately no onesuspected us. In fact, having been there the night before, we hadestablished ourselves, as it were, and were welcomed as oldpatrons and good spenders. 

I noticed, however, that Whitecap was not there. The story hadbeen read by such of the dope fiends as had not fallen too far tokeep abreast of the times and these and the waiters were busyquietly warning off a line of haggard-eyed, disappointed patronswho came around, as usual. 

Some of them were so obviously dependent on Whitecap that I almostregretted having written the story, for they must have beensuffering the tortures of the damned. 

It was in the midst of a reverie of this sort that a lowexclamation from Kennedy recalled my attention. There was Snowbirdwith a man considerably older than herself. They had just come inand were looking about frantically for Whitecap. But Whitecap hadbeen too frightened by the story in the Star to sell any more ofthe magic happy dust openly in the cabaret, at least. 

The pair, nerve-racked and exhausted, sat down mournfully in aseat near us, and as they talked earnestly in low tones we had anexcellent opportunity for studying Armstrong for the first time. 

He was not a bad-looking man, or even a weak one. In back of thedissipation of the drugs one fancied he could read the story of abrilliant life wrecked. But there was little left to admire orrespect. As the couple talked earnestly, the one so old, the otherso young in vice, I had to keep a tight rein on myself to preventmy sympathy for the wretched girl getting the better of commonsense and kicking the older man out of doors. 

Finally Armstrong rose to go, with a final imploring glance fromthe girl. Obviously she had persuaded him to forage about tosecure the heroin, by hook or crook, now that the accustomedsource of supply was cut off so suddenly. 

It was also really our first chance to study the girl carefullyunder the light, for her entrance and exit the night before hadbeen so hurried that we had seen comparatively little of her. Craig was watching her narrowly. Not only were the effects of thedrug plainly evident on her face, but it was apparent that thesnuffing the powdered tablets was destroying the bones in hernose, through shrinkage of the blood vessels, as well asundermining the nervous system and causing the brain to totter. 

I was wondering whether Armstrong knew of any depot for the secretdistribution of the drug. I could not believe that Whitecap waseither the chief distributer or the financial head of the illegaltraffic. I wondered who indeed was the man higher up. Was he animporter of the drug, or was he the representative of somechemical company not averse to making an illegal dollar now andthen by dragging down his fellow man?

Kennedy and I were trying to act as if we were enjoying thecabaret show and not too much interested in the little drama thatwas being acted before us. I think little Miss Sawtelle noticed, however, that we were looking often her way. I was amazed, too, onstudying her more closely to find that there was somethingindefinably queer about her, aside from the marked effect of thedrugs she had been taking. What it was I was at a loss todetermine, but I felt sure from the expression on Kennedy's facethat he had noticed it also. 

I was on the point of asking him if he, too, observed anythingqueer in the girl, when Armstrong hurried in and handed her asmall package, then almost without a word stalked out again, evidently as much to Snowbird's surprise as to our own. 

She had literally seized the package, as though she were drowningand grasping at a life buoy. Even the surprise at his hastydeparture could not prevent her, however, from literally tearingthe wrapper off, and in the sheltering shadow of the table clothpouring forth the little white pellets in her lap, counting themas a miser counts his gold, "The old thief!" she exclaimed aloud. "He's held out twenty-five!"

I don't know which it was that amazed me most, the almost childishpetulance and ungovernable temper of the girl which made her cryout in spite of her surroundings and the circumstances, or thepetty rapacity of the man who could stoop to such a low level asto rob her in this seeming underhand manner. 

There was no time for useless repining now. The call of outragednature for its daily and hourly quota of poison was tooimperative. She dumped the pellets back into the bottle hastily, and disappeared. 

When she came back, it was with that expression I had come to knowso well. At least for a few hours there was a respite for her fromthe terrific pangs she had been suffering. She was almost happy, smiling. Even that false happiness, I felt, was superior toArmstrong's moral sense blunted by drugs. I had begun to realizehow lying, stealing, crimes of all sorts might be laid at the doorof this great evil. 

In her haste to get where she could snuff the heroin she hadforgotten a light wrap lying on her chair. As she returned for it, it fell to the floor. Instantly Kennedy was on his feet, bendingover to pick it up. 

She thanked him, and the smile lingered a moment on her face. Itwas enough. It gave Kennedy the chance to pursue a conversation, and in the free and easy atmosphere of the cabaret to invite herto sit over at our table. 

At least all her nervousness was gone and she chatted vivaciously. Kennedy said little. He was too busy watching her. It was quitethe opposite of the case of Mrs. Garrett. Yet I was at a loss todefine what it was that I sensed. 

Still the minutes sped past and we seemed to be getting onfamously. Unlike his action in the case of the older woman wherehe had been sounding the depths of her heart and mind, in thiscase his idea seemed to be to allow the childish prattle to comeout and perhaps explain itself. 

However, at the end of half an hour when we seemed to be gettingno further along, Kennedy did not protest at her desire to leaveus, "to keep a date, " as she expressed it. 

"Waiter, the check, please, " ordered Kennedy leisurely. 

When he received it, he seemed to be in no great hurry to pay it, but went over one item after another, then added up the footingagain. 

"Strange how some of these waiters grow rich?" Craig remarkedfinally with a gay smile. 

The idea of waiters and money quickly brought some pettyreminiscences to her mind. While she was still talking, Craigcasually pulled a pencil out of his pocket and scribbled somefigures on the back of the waiter's check. 

From where I was sitting beside him, I could see that he hadwritten some figures similar to the following:

5183 47395 654726 2964375 47293815 924738651 2146073859

"Here's a stunt, " he remarked, breaking into the conversation at aconvenient point. "Can you repeat these numbers after me?"

Without waiting for her to make excuse, he said quickly "5183. ""5183, " she repeated mechanically. 

"47395, " came in rapid succession, to which she replied, perhaps alittle slower than before, "47395. "

"Now, 654726, " he said. 

"654726, " she repeated, I thought with some hesitation. 

"Again, 2964375, " he shot out. 

"269, " she hesitated, "73--" she stopped. 

It was evident that she had reached the limit. 

Kennedy smiled, paid the check and we parted at the door. 

"What was all that rigmarole?" I inquired as the white figuredisappeared down the street. 

"Part of the Binet test, seeing how many digits one can remember. An adult ought to remember from eight to ten, in any order. Butshe has the mentality of a child. That is the queer thing abouther. Chronologically she may be eighteen years or so old. Mentallyshe is scarcely more than eight. Mrs. Sutphen was right. They havemade a fiend out of a mere child--a defective who never had achance against them. "

CHAPTER XXVII

THE LIE DETECTOR

As the horror of it all dawned on me, I hated Armstrong worse thanever, hated Whitecap, hated the man higher up, whoever he mightbe, who was enriching himself out of the defective, as well as theweakling, and the vicious--all three typified by Snowbird, Armstrong and Whitecap. 

Having no other place to go, pending further developments of thepublicity we had given the drug war in the Star, Kennedy and Idecided on a walk home in the bracing night air. 

We had scarcely entered the apartment when the hall boy called tous frantically: "Some one's been trying to get you all over town, Professor Kennedy. Here's the message. I wrote it down. An attempthas been made to poison Mrs. Sutphen. They said at the other endof the line that you'd know. "

We faced each other aghast. 

"My God!" exclaimed Kennedy. "Has that been the effect of ourstory, Walter? Instead of smoking out anyone--we've almost killedsome one. "

As fast as a cab could whisk us around to Mrs. Sutphen's wehurried. 

"I warned her that if she mixed up in any such fight as this shemight expect almost anything, " remarked Mr. Sutphen nervously, ashe met us in the reception room. "She's all right, now, I guess, but if it hadn't been for the prompt work of the ambulance surgeonI sent for, Dr. Coleman says she would have died in fifteenminutes. "

"How did it happen?" asked Craig. 

"Why, she usually drinks a glass of vichy and milk beforeretiring, " replied Mr. Sutphen. "We don't know yet whether it wasthe vichy or the milk that was poisoned, but Dr. Coleman thinks itwas chloral in one or the other, and so did the ambulance surgeon. I tell you I was scared. I tried to get Coleman, but he was out ona case, and I happened to think of the hospitals as probably thequickest. Dr. Coleman came in just as the young surgeon wasbringing her around. He--oh, here he is now. "

The famous doctor was just coming downstairs. He saw us, but, Isuppose, inasmuch as we did not belong to the Sutphen and Colemanset, ignored us. "Mrs. Sutphen will be all right now, " he saidreassuringly as he drew on his gloves. "The nurse has arrived, andI have given her instructions what to do. And, by the way, my dearSutphen, I should advise you to deal firmly with her in thatmatter about which her name is appearing in the papers. Womennowadays don't seem to realize the dangers they run in mixing inin all these reforms. I have ordered an analysis of both the milkand vichy, but that will do little good unless we can find out whopoisoned it. And there are so many chances for things like that, life is so complex nowadays--"

He passed out with scarcely a nod at us. Kennedy did not attemptto question him. He was thinking rapidly. 

"Walter, we have no time to lose, " he exclaimed, seizing atelephone that stood on a stand near by. "This is the time foraction. Hello--Police Headquarters, First Deputy O'Connor, please. "

As Kennedy waited I tried to figure out how it could havehappened. I wondered whether it might not have been Mrs. Garrett. Would she stop at anything if she feared the loss of her favoritedrug? But then there were so many others and so many ways of"getting" anybody who interfered with the drug traffic that itseemed impossible to figure it out by pure deduction. 

"Hello, O'Connor, " I heard Kennedy say; "you read that story inthe Star this morning about the drug fiends at that Broadwaycabaret? Yes? Well, Jameson and I wrote it. It's part of the drugwar that Mrs. Sutphen has been waging. O'Connor, she's beenpoisoned--oh, no--she's all right now. But I want you to send outand arrest Whitecap and that fellow Armstrong immediately. I'mgoing to put them through a scientific third degree up in thelaboratory to-night. Thank you. No--no matter how late it is, bring them up. "

Dr. Coleman had gone long since, Mr. Sutphen had absolutely nointerest further than the recovery of Mrs. Sutphen just now, andMrs. Sutphen was resting quietly and could not be seen. Accordingly Kennedy and I hastened up to the laboratory to waituntil O'Connor could "deliver the goods. "

It was not long before one of O'Connor's men came in withWhitecap. 

"While we're waiting, " said Craig, "I wish you would just try thislittle cut-out puzzle. "

I don't know what Whitecap thought, but I know I looked at Craig'sinvitation to "play blocks" as a joke scarcely higher in orderthan the number repetition of Snowbird. Whitecap did it, however, sullenly, and under compulsion, in, I should say about twominutes. 

"I have Armstrong here myself, " called out the voice of our oldfriend O'Connor, as he burst into the room. 

"Good!" exclaimed Kennedy. "I shall be ready for him in just asecond. Have Whitecap held here in the anteroom while you bringArmstrong into the laboratory. By the way, Walter, that wasanother of the Binet tests, putting a man at solving puzzles. Itinvolves reflective judgment, one of the factors in executiveability. If Whitecap had been defective, it would have taken himfive minutes to do that puzzle, if at all. So you see he is not inthe class with Miss Sawtelle. The test shows him to be shrewd. Hedoesn't even touch his own dope. Now for Armstrong. "

I knew enough of the underworld to set Whitecap down, however, asa "lobbygow"--an agent for some one higher up, recruiting both thegangs and the ranks of street women. 

Before us, as O'Connor led in Armstrong, was a little machine witha big black cylinder. By means of wires and electrodes Kennedyattached it to Armstrong's chest. 

"Now, Armstrong, " he began in an even tone, "I want you to tellthe truth--the whole truth. You have been getting heroin tabletsfrom Whitecap. "

"Yes, sir, " replied the dope fiend defiantly. 

"To-day you had to get them elsewhere. "

No answer. 

"Never mind, " persisted Kennedy, still calm, "I know. Why, Armstrong, you even robbed that girl of twenty-five tablets. "

"I did not, " shot out the answer. 

"There were twenty-five short, " accused Kennedy. 

The two faced each other. Craig repeated his remark. 

"Yes, " replied Armstrong, "I held out the tablets, but it was notfor myself, I can get all I want. I did it because I didn't wanther to get above seventy-five a day. I have tried every way tobreak her of the habit that has got me--and failed. But seventy-five--is the limit!"

"A pretty story!" exclaimed O'Connor. 

Craig laid his hand on his arm to check him, as he examined arecord registered on the cylinder of the machine. 

"By the way, Armstrong, I want you to write me out a note that Ican use to get a hundred heroin tablets. You can write it all butthe name of the place where I can get them. "

Armstrong was on the point of demurring, but the last sentencereassured him. He would reveal nothing by it--yet. 

Still the man was trembling like a leaf. He wrote:

"Give Whitecap one hundred shocks--A Victim. "

For a moment Kennedy studied the note carefully. "Oh--er--Iforgot, Armstrong, but a few days ago an anonymous letter was sentto Mrs. Sutphen, signed 'A Friend. ' Do you know anything aboutit?"

"A note?" the man repeated. "Mrs. Sutphen? I don't know anythingabout any note, or Mrs. Sutphen either. "

Kennedy was still studying his record. "This, " he remarked slowly, "is what I call my psychophysical test for falsehood. Lying, whenit is practiced by an expert, is not easily detected by the mostcareful scrutiny of the liar's appearance and manner. 

"However, successful means have been developed for the detectionof falsehood by the study of experimental psychology. Walter, Ithink you will recall the test I used once, the psychophysicalfactor of the character and rapidity of the mental process knownas the association of ideas?"

I nodded acquiescence. 

"Well, " he resumed, "in criminal jurisprudence, I find an evenmore simple and more subjective test which has been recentlydevised. Professor Stoerring of Bonn has found out that feelingsof pleasure and pain produce well-defined changes in respiration. Similar effects are produced by lying, according to the famousProfessor Benussi of Graz. 

"These effects are unerring, unequivocal. The utterance of a falsestatement increases respiration; of a true statement decreases. The importance and scope of these discoveries are obvious. "

Craig was figuring rapidly on a piece of paper. "This is a certainand objective criterion, " he continued as he figured, "betweentruth and falsehood. Even when a clever liar endeavors to escapedetection by breathing irregularly, it is likely to fail, forBenussi has investigated and found that voluntary changes inrespiration don't alter the result. You see, the quotient obtainedby dividing the time of inspiration by the time of expirationgives me the result. "

He looked up suddenly. "Armstrong, you are telling the truth aboutsome things--downright lies about others. You are a drug fiend--but I will be lenient with you, for one reason. Contrary toeverything that I would have expected, you are really trying tosave that poor half-witted girl whom you love from the terriblehabit that has gripped you. That is why you held out the quarterof the one hundred tablets. That is why you wrote the note to Mrs. Sutphen, hoping that she might be treated in some institution. "

Kennedy paused as a look of incredulity passed over Armstrong'sface. 

"Another thing you said was true, " added Kennedy. "You can get allthe heroin you want. Armstrong, you will put the address of thatplace on the outside of the note, or both you and Whitecap go tojail. Snowbird will be left to her own devices--she can get allthe 'snow, ' as some of you fiends call it, that she wants fromthose who might exploit her. "

"Please, Mr. Kennedy, " pleaded Armstrong. 

"No, " interrupted Craig, before the drug fiend could finish. "Thatis final. I must have the name of that place. "

In a shaky hand Armstrong wrote again. Hastily Craig stuffed thenote into his pocket, and ten minutes later we were mounting thesteps of a big brownstone house on a fashionable side street justaround the corner from Fifth Avenue. 

As the door was opened by an obsequious colored servant, Craighanded him the scrap of paper signed by the password, "A Victim. "

Imitating the cough of a confirmed dope user, Craig was led into alarge waiting room. 

"You're in pretty bad shape, sah, " commented the servant. 

Kennedy nudged me and, taking the cue, I coughed myself red in theface. 

"Yes, " he said. "Hurry--please. "

The servant knocked at a door, and as it was opened we caught aglimpse of Mrs. Garrett in negligee. 

"What is it, Sam?" she asked. 

"Two gentlemen for some heroin tablets, ma'am. "

"Tell them to go to the chemical works--not to my office, Sam, "growled a man's voice inside. 

With a quick motion, Kennedy had Mrs. Garrett by the wrist. 

"I knew it, " he ground out. "It was all a fake about how you gotthe habit. You wanted to get it, so you could get and hold him. And neither one of you would stop at anything, not even the murderof your sister, to prevent the ruin of the devilish business youhave built up in manufacturing and marketing the stuff. "

He pulled the note from the hand of the surprised negro. "I hadthe right address, the place where you sell hundreds of ounces ofthe stuff a week--but I preferred to come to the doctor's officewhere I could find you both. "

Kennedy had firmly twisted her wrist until, with a little screamof pain, she let go the door handle. Then he gently pushed heraside, and the next instant Craig had his hand inside the collarof Dr. Coleman, society physician, proprietor of the ColemanChemical Works downtown, the real leader of the drug gang that wasdebauching whole sections of the metropolis. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE FAMILY SKELETON

Surprised though we were at the unmasking of Dr. Coleman, therewas nothing to do but to follow the thing out. In such cases weusually ran into the greatest difficulty--organized vice. This wasno exception. 

Even when cases involved only a clever individual or a prominentfamily, it was the same. I recall, for example, the case of awell-known family in a New York suburb, which was particularlydifficult. It began in a rather unusual manner, too. 

"Mr. Kennedy--I am ruined--ruined. "

It was early one morning that the telephone rang and I answeredit. A very excited German, breathless and incoherent, wasevidently at the other end of the wire. 

I handed the receiver to Craig and picked up the morning paperlying on the table. 

"Minturn--dead?" I heard Craig exclaim. "In the paper thismorning? I'll be down to see you directly. "

Kennedy almost tore the paper from me. In the next to the endcolumn where late news usually is dropped was a brief account ofthe sudden death of Owen Minturn, one of the foremost criminallawyers of the city, in Josephson's Baths downtown. 

It ended: "It is believed by the coroner that Mr. Minturn wasshocked to death and evidence is being sought to show that twohundred and forty volts of electricity had been thrown into theattorney's body while he was in the electric bath. JosephJosephson, the proprietor of the bath, who operated theswitchboard, is being held, pending the completion of theinquiry. "

As Kennedy hastily ran his eye over the paragraphs, he became moreand more excited himself. 

"Walter, " he cried, as he finished, "I don't believe that that wasan accident at all. "

"Why?" I asked. 

He already had his hat on, and I knew he was going to Josephson'sbreakfastless. I followed reluctantly. 

"Because, " he answered, as we hustled along in the early morningcrowd, "it was only yesterday afternoon that I saw Minturn at hisoffice and he made an appointment with me for this very morning. He was a very secretive man, but he did tell me this much, that hefeared his life was in danger and that it was in some wayconnected with that Pearcy case up in Stratfield, Connecticut, where he has an estate. You have read of the case?"

Indeed I had. It had seemed to me to be a particularlyinexplicable affair. Apparently a whole family had been poisonedand a few days before old Mr. Randall Pearcy, a retiredmanufacturer, had died after a brief but mysterious illness. 

Pearcy had been married a year or so ago to Annette Oakleigh, aBroadway comic opera singer, who was his second wife. By his firstmarriage he had had two children, a son, Warner, and a daughter, Isabel. 

Warner Pearcy, I had heard, had blazed a vermilion trail along theGreat White Way, but his sister was of the opposite temperament, interested in social work, and had attracted much attention byorganizing a settlement in the slums of Stratfield for the upliftof the workers in the Pearcy and other mills. 

Broadway, as well as Stratfield, had already woven a fantasticbackground, for the mystery and hints had been broadly made thatAnnette Oakleigh had been indiscreetly intimate with a youngphysician in the town, a Dr. Gunther, a friend, by the way, ofMinturn. "There has been no trial yet, " went on Kennedy, "butMinturn seems to have appeared before the coroner's jury atStratfield and to have asserted the innocence of Mrs. Pearcy andthat of Dr. Gunther so well that, although the jury brought in averdict of murder by poison by some one unknown, there has been nomention of the name of anyone else. The coroner simply adjournedthe inquest so that a more careful analysis might be made of thevital organs. And now comes this second tragedy in New York. "

"What was the poison?" I asked. "Have they found out yet?"

"They are pretty sure, so Minturn told me, that it was leadpoisoning. The fact not generally known is, " he added in a lowertone, "that the cases were not confined to the Pearcy house. Theyhad even extended to Minturn's too, although about that he saidlittle yesterday. The estates up there adjoin, you know. "

Owen Minturn, I recalled, had gained a formidable reputation byhis successful handling of cases from the lowest strata of societyto the highest. Indeed it was a byword that his appearance incourt indicated two things--the guilt of the accused and a verdictof acquittal. 

"Of course, " Craig pursued as we were jolted from station tostation downtown, "you know they say that Minturn never kept arecord of a case. But written records were as nothing compared towhat that man must have carried only in his head. "

It was a common saying that, if Minturn should tell all he knew, he might hang half a dozen prominent men in society. That was notstrictly true, perhaps, but it was certain that a revelation ofthe things confided to him by clients which were never put down onpaper would have caused a series of explosions that would havewrecked at least some portions of the social and financial world. He had heard much and told little, for he had been a sort of"father confessor. "

Had Minturn, I wondered, known the name of the real criminal?

Josephson's was a popular bath on Forty-second Street, where manyof the "sun-dodgers" were accustomed to recuperate during the dayfrom their arduous pursuit of pleasure at night and prepare forthe resumption of their toil during the coming night. It was morethan that, however, for it had a reputation for being conductedreally on a high plane. 

We met Josephson downstairs. He had been released under bail, though the place was temporarily closed and watched over by theagents of the coroner and the police. Josephson appeared to be aman of some education and quite different from what I had imaginedfrom hearing him over the telephone. 

"Oh, Mr. Kennedy, " he exclaimed, "who now will come to my baths?Last night they were crowded, but to-day--"

He ended with an expressive gesture of his hands. 

"One customer I have surely lost, young Mr. Pearcy, " he went on. 

"Warner Pearcy?" asked Craig. "Was he here last night?"

"Nearly every night, " replied Josephson, now glib enough as hisfirst excitement subsided and his command of English returned. "Hewas a neighbor of Mr. Minturn's, I hear. Oh, what luck!" growledJosephson as the name recalled him to his present troubles. 

"Well, " remarked Kennedy with an attempt at reassurance as if togain the masseur's confidence, "I know as well as you that it isoften amazing what a tremendous shock a man may receive and yetnot be killed, and no less amazing how small a shock may kill. Itall depends on circumstances. "

Josephson shot a covert look at Kennedy. "Yes, " he reiterated, "but I cannot see how it COULD be. If the lights had become short-circuited with the bath, that might have thrown a current into thebath. But they were not. I know it. "

"Still, " pursued Kennedy, watching him keenly, "it is not all aquestion of current. To kill, the shock must pass through a vitalorgan--the brain, the heart, the upper spinal cord. So, a smallshock may kill and a large one may not. If it passes in one footand out by the other, the current isn't likely to be as dangerousas if it passes in by a hand or foot and then out by a foot orhand. In one case it passes through no vital organ; in the otherit is very likely to do so. You see, the current can flow throughthe body only when it has a place of entrance and a place of exit. In all cases of accident from electric light wires, the victim istouching some conductor--damp earth, salty earth, water, somethingthat gives the current an outlet and--"

"But even if the lights had been short-circuited, " interruptedJosephson, "Mr. Minturn would have escaped injury unless he hadtouched the taps of the bath. Oh, no, sir, accidents in themedical use of electricity are rare. They don't happen here in myestablishment, " he maintained stoutly. "The trouble was that thecoroner, without any knowledge of the physiological effects ofelectricity on the body, simply jumped at once to the conclusionthat it was the electric bath that did it. "

"Then it was for medical treatment that Mr. Minturn was taking thebath?" asked Kennedy, quickly taking up the point. 

"Yes, of course, " answered the masseur, eager to explain. "You areacquainted with the latest treatment for lead poisoning by meansof the electric bath?"

Kennedy nodded. "I know that Sir Thomas Oliver, the Englishauthority who has written much on dangerous trades, has tried itwith marked success. "

"Well, sir, that was why Mr. Minturn was here. He came hereintroduced by a Dr. Gunther of Stratfield. "

"Indeed?" remarked Kennedy colorlessly, though I could see that itinterested him, for evidently Minturn had said nothing of beinghimself a sufferer from the poison. "May I see the bath?"

"Surely, " said Josephson, leading the way upstairs. 

It was an oaken tub with metal rods on the two long sides, fromwhich depended prismatic carbon rods. Kennedy examined it closely. 

"This is what we call a hydro-electric bath, " Josephson explained. "Those rods on the sides are the electrodes. You see there are nometal parts in the tub itself. The rods are attached by wiring toa wall switch out here. "

He pointed to the next room. Kennedy examined the switch withcare. 

"From it, " went on Josephson, "wires lead to an accumulatorbattery of perhaps thirty volts. It uses very little current. Dr. Gunther tested it and found it all right. "

Craig leaned over the bath, and from the carbon electrodes scrapedoff a white powder in minute crystals. 

"Ordinarily, " Josephson pursued, "lead is eliminated by the skinand kidneys. But now, as you know, it is being helped along byelectrolysis. I talked to Dr. Gunther about it. It is his opinionthat it is probably eliminated as a chloride from the tissues ofthe body to the electrodes in the bath in which the patient iswholly or partly immersed. On the positive electrodes we get theperoxide. On the negative there is a spongy metallic form of lead. But it is only a small amount. "

"The body has been removed?" asked Craig. 

"Not yet, " the masseur replied. "The coroner has ordered it kepthere under guard until he makes up his mind what disposition tohave made of it. "

We were next ushered into a little room on the same floor, at thedoor of which was posted an official from the coroner. 

"First of all, " remarked Craig, as he drew back the sheet andbegan, a minute examination of the earthly remains of the greatlawyer, "there are to be considered the safeguards of the humanbody against the passage through it of a fatal electric current--the high electric resistance of the body itself. It isparticularly high when the current must pass through joints suchas wrists, knees, elbows, and quite high when the bones of thehead are concerned. Still, there might have been an incautiousapplication of the current to the head, especially when thesubject is a person of advanced age or latent cerebral disease, though I don't know that that fits Mr. Minturn. That's strange, "he muttered, looking up, puzzled. "I can find no mark of a burn onthe body--absolutely no mark of anything. "

"That's what I say, " put in Josephson, much pleased by whatKennedy said, for he had been waiting anxiously to see what Craigdiscovered on his own examination. "It's impossible. "

"It's all the more remarkable, " went on Craig, half to himself andignoring Josephson, "because burns due to electric currents aretotally unlike those produced in other ways. They occur at thepoint of contact, usually about the arms and hands, or the head. Electricity is much to be feared when it involves the cranialcavity. " He completed his examination of the head which once hadcarried secrets which themselves must have been incandescent. 

"Then, too, such burns are most often something more thansuperficial, for considerable heat is developed which leads tomassive destruction and carbonization of the tissues to aconsiderable depth. I have seen actual losses of substance--a lumpof killed flesh surrounded by healthy tissues. Besides, such burnsshow an unexpected indolence when compared to the violent pains ofordinary burns. Perhaps that is due to the destruction of thenerve endings. How did Minturn die? Was he alone? Was he dead whenhe was discovered?"

"He was alone, " replied Josephson, slowly endeavoring to tell itexactly as he had seen it, "but that's the strange part of it. Heseemed to be suffering from a convulsion. I think he complained atfirst of a feeling of tightness of his throat and a twitching ofthe muscles of his hands and feet. Anyhow, he called for help. Iwas up here and we rushed in. Dr. Gunther had just brought him andthen had gone away, after introducing him, and showing him thebath. "

Josephson proceeded slowly, evidently having been warned thatanything he said might be used against him. "We carried him, whenhe was this way, into this very room. But it was only for a shorttime. Then came a violent convulsion. It seemed to extend rapidlyall over his body. His legs were rigid, his feet bent, his headback. Why, he was resting only on his heels and the back of hishead. You see, Mr. Kennedy, that simply could not be the electricshock. "

"Hardly, " commented Kennedy, looking again at the body. "It looksmore like a tetanus convulsion. Yet there does not seem to be anytrace of a recent wound that might have caused lockjaw. How did helook?"

"Oh, his face finally became livid, " replied Josephson. "He had aghastly, grinning expression, his eyes were wide, there was foamon his mouth, and his breathing was difficult. "

"Not like tetanus, either, " revised Craig. "There the convulsionusually begins with the face and progresses to the other muscles. Here it seems to have gone the other way. "

"That lasted a minute or so, " resumed the masseur. "Then he sankback--perfectly limp. I thought he was dead. But he was not. Acold sweat broke out all over him and he was as if in a deepsleep. "

"What did you do?" prompted Kennedy. 

"I didn't know what to do. I called an ambulance. But the momentthe door opened, his body seemed to stiffen again. He had oneother convulsion--and when he grew limp he was dead. "

CHAPTER XXIX

THE LEAD POISONER

It was a gruesome recital and I was glad to leave the bathsfinally with Kennedy. Josephson was quite evidently relieved atthe attitude Craig had taken toward the coroner's conclusion thatMinturn had been shocked to death. As far as I could see, however, it added to rather than cleared up the mystery. 

Craig went directly uptown to his laboratory, in contrast with ourjourney down, in abstracted silence, which was his manner when hewas trying to reason out some particularly knotty problem. 

As Kennedy placed the white crystals which he had scraped off theelectrodes of the tub on a piece of dark paper in the laboratory, he wet the tip of his finger and touched just the minutest grainto his tongue. 

The look on his face told me that something unexpected hadhappened. He held a similar minute speck of the powder out to me. 

It was an intensely bitter taste and very persistent, for evenafter we had rinsed out our mouths it seemed to remain, clingingpersistently to the tongue. 

He placed some of the grains in some pure water. They dissolvedonly slightly, if at all. But in a tube in which he mixed a littleether and chloroform they dissolved fairly readily. 

Next, without a word, he poured just a drop of strong sulphuricacid on the crystals. There was not a change in them. 

Quickly he reached up into the rack and took down a bottle labeled"Potassium Bichromate. "

"Let us see what an oxidizing agent will do, " he remarked. 

As he gently added the bichromate, there came a most marvelous, kaleidoscopic change. From being almost colorless, the crystalsturned instantly to a deep blue, then rapidly to purple, lilac, red, and then the red slowly faded away and they became colorlessagain. 

"What is it?" I asked, fascinated. "Lead?"

"N-no, " he replied, the lines of his forehead deepening. "No. Thisis sulphate of strychnine. "

"Sulphate of strychnine?" I repeated in astonishment. 

"Yes, " he reiterated slowly. "I might have suspected that from theconvulsions, particularly when Josephson said that the noise andexcitement of the arrival of the ambulance brought on the fatalparoxysm. That is symptomatic. But I didn't fully realize it untilI got up here and tasted the stuff. Then I suspected, for thattaste is characteristic. Even one part diluted seventy thousandtimes gives that decided bitter taste. "

"That's all very well, " I remarked, recalling the intensebitterness yet on my tongue. "But how do you suppose it waspossible for anyone to administer it? It seems to me that he wouldhave said something, if he had swallowed even the minutest part ofit. He must have known it. Yet apparently he didn't. At least hesaid nothing about it--or else Josephson is concealing something. "

"Did he swallow it--necessarily?" queried Kennedy, in a tonecalculated to show me that the chemical world, at least, was fullof a number of things, and there was much to learn. 

"Well, I suppose if it had been given hypodermically, it wouldhave a more violent effect, " I persisted, trying to figure out away that the poison might have been given. 

"Even more unlikely, " objected Craig, with a delight atdiscovering a new mystery that to me seemed almost fiendish. "No, he would certainly have felt a needle, have cried out and saidsomething about it, if anyone had tried that. This poisoned needlebusiness isn't as easy as some people seem to think nowadays. "

"Then he might have absorbed it from the water, " I insisted, recalling a recent case of Kennedy's and adding, "by osmosis. "

"You saw how difficult it was to dissolve in water, " Craigrejected quietly. 

"Well, then, " I concluded in desperation. "How could it have beenintroduced?"

"I have a theory, " was all he would say, reaching for the railwayguide, "but it will take me up to Stratfield to prove it. "

His plan gave us a little respite and we paused long enough tolunch, for which breathing space I was duly thankful. The forenoonsaw us on the train, Kennedy carrying a large and cumbersomepackage which he brought down with him from the laboratory andwhich we took turns in carrying, though he gave no hint of itscontents. 

We arrived in Stratfield, a very pretty little mill town, in themiddle of the afternoon, and with very little trouble weredirected to the Pearcy house, after Kennedy had checked the parcelwith the station agent. 

Mrs. Pearcy, to whom we introduced ourselves as reporters of theStar, was a tall blonde. I could not help thinking that she made aparticularly dashing widow. With her at the time was IsabelPearcy, a slender girl whose sensitive lips and large, earnesteyes indicated a fine, high-strung nature. 

Even before we had introduced ourselves, I could not help thinkingthat there was a sort of hostility between the women. Certainly itwas evident that there was as much difference in temperament asbetween the butterfly and the bee. 

"No, " replied the elder woman quickly to a request from Kennedyfor an interview, "there is nothing that I care to say to thenewspapers. They have said too much already about this--unfortunate affair. "

Whether it was imagination or not, I fancied that there was an airof reserve about both women. It struck me as a most peculiarhousehold. What was it? Was each suspicious of the other? Was eachconcealing something?

I managed to steal a glance at Kennedy's face to see whether therewas anything to confirm my own impression. He was watching Mrs. Pearcy closely as she spoke. In fact his next few questions, inconsequential as they were, seemed addressed to her solely forthe purpose of getting her to speak. 

I followed his eyes and found that he was watching her mouth, inreality. As she answered I noted her beautiful white teeth. Kennedy himself had trained me to notice small things, and at thetime, though I thought it was trivial, I recall noticing on hergums, where they joined the teeth, a peculiar bluish-black line. 

Kennedy had been careful to address only Mrs. Pearcy at first, andas he continued questioning her, she seemed to realize that he wastrying to lead her along. 

"I must positively refuse to talk any more, " she repeated finally, rising. "I am not to be tricked into saying anything. "

She had left the room, evidently expecting that Isabel wouldfollow. She did not. In fact I felt that Miss Pearcy was visiblyrelieved by the departure of her stepmother. She seemed anxious toask us something and now took the first opportunity. 

"Tell me, " she said eagerly, "how did Mr. Minturn die? What dothey really think of it in New York?"

"They think it is poisoning, " replied Craig, noting the look onher face. 

She betrayed nothing, as far as I could see, except a naturalneighborly interest. "Poisoning?" she repeated. "By what?"

"Lead poisoning, " he replied evasively. 

She said nothing. It was evident that, slip of a girl though shewas, she was quite the match of anyone who attempted leadingquestions. Kennedy changed his method. 

"You will pardon me, " he said apologetically, "for recalling whatmust be distressing. But we newspapermen often have to do thingsand ask questions that are distasteful. I believe it is rumoredthat your father suffered from lead poisoning?"

"Oh, I don't know what it was--none of us do, " she cried, almostpathetically. "I had been living at the settlement until lately. When father grew worse, I came home. He had such strange visions--hallucinations, I suppose you would call them. In the daytime hewould be so very morose and melancholy. Then, too, there wereterrible pains in his stomach, and his eyesight began to fail. Yes, I believe that Dr. Gunther did say it was lead poisoning. But--they have said so many things--so many things, " she repeated, plainly distressed at the subject of her recent bereavement. 

"Your brother is not at home?" asked Kennedy, quickly changing thesubject. 

"No, " she answered, then with a flash as though lifting the veilof a confidence, added: "You know, neither Warner nor I have livedhere much this year. He has been in New York most of the time andI have been at the settlement, as I already told you. "

She hesitated, as if wondering whether she should say more, thenadded quickly: "It has been repeated often enough; there is noreason why I shouldn't say it to you. Neither of us exactlyapproved of father's marriage. "

She checked herself and glanced about, somewhat with the air ofone who has suddenly considered the possibility of beingoverheard. 

"May I have a glass of water?" asked Kennedy suddenly. 

"Why, certainly, " she answered, going to the door, apparentlyeager for an excuse to find out whether there was some one on theother side of it. 

There was not, nor any indication that there had been. 

"Evidently she does not have any suspicions of THAT, " remarkedKennedy in an undertone, half to himself. 

I had no chance to question him, for she returned almostimmediately. Instead of drinking the water, however, he held itcarefully up to the light. It was slightly turbid. 

"You drink the water from the tap?" he asked, as he poured some ofit into a sterilized vial which he drew quickly from his vestpocket. 

"Certainly, " she replied, for the moment nonplussed at his strangeactions. "Everybody drinks the town water in Stratfield. "

A few more questions, none of which were of importance, andKennedy and I excused ourselves. 

At the gate, instead of turning toward the town, however, Kennedywent on and entered the grounds of the Minturn house next door. The lawyer, I had understood, was a widower and, though he livedin Stratfield only part of the time, still maintained his housethere. 

We rang the bell and a middle-aged housekeeper answered. 

"I am from the water company, " he began politely. "We are testingthe water, perhaps will supply consumers with filters. Can you letme have a sample?"

She did not demur, but invited us in. As she drew the water, Craigwatched her hands closely. She seemed to have difficulty inholding the glass, and as she handed it to him, I noticed apeculiar hanging down of the wrist. Kennedy poured the sample intoa second vial, and I noticed that it was turbid, too. With nomention of the tragedy to her employer, he excused himself, and wewalked slowly back to the road. 

Between the two houses Kennedy paused, and for several momentsappeared to be studying them. 

We walked slowly back along the road to the town. As we passed thelocal drug store, Kennedy turned and sauntered in. 

He found it easy enough to get into conversation with thedruggist, after making a small purchase, and in the course of afew minutes we found ourselves gossiping behind the partition thatshut off the arcana of the prescription counter from the rest ofthe store. 

Gradually Kennedy led the conversation around to the point whichhe wanted, and asked, "I wish you'd let me fix up a littlesulphureted hydrogen. "

"Go ahead, " granted the druggist good-naturedly. "I guess you cando it. You know as much about drugs as I do. I can stand thesmell, if you can. "

Kennedy smiled and set to work. 

Slowly he passed the gas through the samples of water he had takenfrom the two houses. As he did so the gas, bubbling through, madea blackish precipitate. 

"What is it?" asked the druggist curiously. 

"Lead sulphide, " replied Kennedy, stroking his chin. "This is anextremely delicate test. Why, one can get a distinct brownishtinge if lead is present in even incredibly minute quantities. "

He continued to work over the vials ranged on the table beforehim. 

"The water contains, I should say, from ten to fifteen hundredthsof a grain of lead to the gallon, " he remarked finally. 

"Where did it come from?" asked the druggist, unable longer torestrain his curiosity. 

"I got it up at Pearcy's, " Kennedy replied frankly, turning toobserve whether the druggist might betray any knowledge of it. 

"That's strange, " he replied in genuine surprise. "Our water inStratfield is supplied by a company to a large area, and it hasalways seemed to me to be of great organic purity. "

"But the pipes are of lead, are they not?" asked Kennedy. 

"Y-yes, " answered the druggist, "I think in most places theservice pipes are of lead. But, " he added earnestly as he saw theimplication of his admission, "water has never to my knowledgebeen found to attack the pipes so as to affect its qualityinjuriously. "

He turned his own faucet and drew a glassful. "It is normallyquite clear, " he added, holding the glass up. 

It was in fact perfectly clear, and when he passed some of the gasthrough it nothing happened at all. 

Just then a man lounged into the store. 

"Hello, Doctor, " greeted the druggist. "Here are a couple offellows that have been investigating the water up at Pearcy's. They've found lead in it. That ought to interest you. This is Dr. Gunther, " he introduced, turning to us. 

It was an unexpected encounter, one I imagine that Kennedy mighthave preferred to take place under other circumstances. But he wasequal to the occasion. 

"We've been sent up here to look into the case for the New YorkStar, " Kennedy said quickly. "I intended to come around to seeyou, but you have saved me the trouble. "

Dr. Gunther looked from one of us to the other. "Seems to me theNew York papers ought to have enough to do without sending men allover the country making news, " he grunted. 

"Well, " drawled Kennedy quietly, "there seems to be a mostremarkable situation up there at Pearcy's and Minturn's, too. Asnearly as I can make out several people there are suffering fromunmistakable signs of lead poisoning. There are the pains in thestomach, the colic, and then on the gums is that characteristicline of plumbic sulphide, the distinctive mark produced by lead. There is the wrist-drop, the eyesight affected, the partialparalysis, the hallucinations and a condition in old Pearcy's casealmost bordering on insanity--to enumerate the symptoms that seemto be present in varying degrees in various persons in the twohouses. "

Gunther looked at Kennedy, as if in doubt just how to take him. 

"That's what the coroner says, too--lead poisoning, " put in thedruggist, himself as keen as anyone else for a piece of localnews, and evidently not averse to stimulating talk from Dr. Gunther, who had been Pearcy's physician. 

"That all seems to be true enough, " replied Gunther at lengthguardedly. "I recognized that some time ago. "

"Why do you think it affects each so differently?" asked thedruggist. 

Dr. Gunther settled himself easily back in a chair to speak as onehaving authority. "Well, " he began slowly, "Miss Pearcy, ofcourse, hasn't been living there much until lately. As for theothers, perhaps this gentleman here from the Star knows that lead, once absorbed, may remain latent in the system and then makeitself felt. It is like arsenic, an accumulative poison, slowlycollecting in the body until the limit is reached, or until thebody, becoming weakened from some other cause, gives way to it. "

He shifted his position slowly, and went on, as if defending thecourse of action he had taken in the case. 

"Then, too, you know, there is an individual as well as family andsex susceptibility to lead. Women are especially liable to leadpoisoning, but then perhaps in this case Mrs. Pearcy comes of afamily that is very resistant. There are many factors. Personally, I don't think Pearcy himself was resistant. Perhaps Minturn wasnot, either. At any rate, after Pearcy's death, it was I whoadvised Minturn to take the electrolysis cure in New York. I tookhim down there, " added Gunther. "Confound it, I wish I had stayedwith him. But I always found Josephson perfectly reliable inhydrotherapy with other patients I sent to him, and I understoodthat he had been very successful with cases sent to him by manyphysicians in the city. " He paused and I waited anxiously to seewhether Kennedy would make some reference to the discovery of thestrychnine salts. 

"Have you any idea how the lead poisoning could have been caused?"asked Kennedy instead. 

Dr. Gunther shook his head. "It is a puzzle to me, " he answered. "I am sure of only one thing. It could not be from working inlead, for it is needless to say that none of them worked. "

"Food?" Craig suggested. 

The doctor considered. "I had thought of that. I know that manycases of lead poisoning have been traced to the presence of thestuff in ordinary foods, drugs and drinks. I have examined thefoods, especially the bread. They don't use canned goods. I evenwent so far as to examine the kitchen ware to see if there couldbe anything wrong with the glazing. They don't drink wines andbeers, into which now and then the stuff seems to get. "

"You seem to have a good grasp of the subject, " flattered Kennedy, as we rose to go. "I can hardly blame you for neglecting thewater, since everyone here seems to be so sure of the purity ofthe supply. "

Gunther said nothing. I was not surprised, for, at the very least, no one likes to have an outsider come in and put his fingerdirectly on the raw spot. What more there might be to it, I couldonly conjecture. 

We left the druggist's and Kennedy, glancing at his watch, remarked: "If you will go down to the station, Walter, and getthat package we left there, I shall be much obliged to you. I wantto make just one more stop, at the office of the water company, and I think I shall just about have time for it. There's a prettygood restaurant across the street. Meet me there, and by that timeI shall know whether to carry out a little plan I have outlined ornot. "

CHAPTER XXX

THE ELECTROLYTIC MURDER

We dined leisurely, which seemed strange to me, for it was notKennedy's custom to let moments fly uselessly when he was on acase. However, I soon found out why it was. He was waiting fordarkness. 

As soon as the lights began to glow in the little stores on themain street, we sallied forth, taking the direction of the Pearcyand Minturn houses. 

On the way he dropped into the hardware store and purchased alight spade and one of the small pocket electric flashlights, about which he wrapped a piece of cardboard in such a way as tomake a most effective dark lantern. 

We trudged along in silence, occasionally changing from carryingthe heavy package to the light spade. 

Both the Pearcy and Minturn houses were in nearly total darknesswhen we arrived. They set well back from the road and wereplentifully shielded by shrubbery. Then, too, at night it was nota much frequented neighborhood. We could easily hear the footstepsof anyone approaching on the walk, and an occasional automobilegliding past did not worry us in the least. 

"I have calculated carefully from an examination of the watercompany's map, " said Craig, "just where the water pipe of the twohouses branches off from the main in the road. "

After a measurement or two from some landmark, we set to work afew feet inside, under cover of the bushes and the shadows, liketwo grave diggers. 

Kennedy had been wielding the spade vigorously for a few minuteswhen it touched something metallic. There, just beneath the frostline, we came upon the service pipe. 

He widened the hole, and carefully scraped off the damp earth thatadhered to the pipe. Next he found a valve where he shut off thewater and cut out a small piece of the pipe. 

"I hope they don't suspect anything like this in the houses withtheir water cut off, " he remarked as he carefully split the pieceopen lengthwise and examined it under the light. 

On the interior of the pipe could be seen patchy lumps of whitewhich projected about an eighth of an inch above the internalsurface. As the pipe dried in the warm night air, they couldeasily be brushed off as a white powder. 

"What is it--strychnine?" I asked. 

"No, " he replied, regarding it thoughtfully with somesatisfaction. "That is lead carbonate. There can be no doubt thatthe turbidity of the water was due to this powder in suspension. Alittle dissolves in the water, while the scales and incrustationsin fine particles are carried along in the current. As a matter offact the amount necessary to make the water poisonous need not belarge. "

He applied a little instrument to the cut ends of the pipe. As Ibent over, I could see the needle on its dial deflected just abit. 

"My voltmeter, " he said, reading it, "shows that there is acurrent of about 1. 8 volts passing through this pipe all thetime. "

"Electrolysis of water pipes!" I exclaimed, thinking of statementsI had heard by engineers. "That's what they mean by stray orvagabond currents, isn't it?"

He had seized the lantern and was eagerly following up and downthe line of the water pipe. At last he stopped, with a lowexclamation, at a point where an electric light wire supplying theMinturn cottage crossed overhead. Fastened inconspicuously to thetrunk of a tree which served as a support for the wire was anotherwire which led down from it and was buried in the ground. 

Craig turned up the soft earth as fast as he could, until hereached the pipe at this point. There was the buried wire woundseveral times around it. 

As quickly and as neatly as he could he inserted a connectionbetween the severed ends of the pipe to restore the flow of waterto the houses, turned on the water and covered up the holes he haddug. Then he unwrapped the package which we had tugged about allday, and in a narrow path between the bushes which led to thepoint where the wire had tapped the electric light feed he placedin a shallow hole in the ground a peculiar apparatus. 

As nearly as I could make it out, it consisted of two flatplatforms between which, covered over and projected, was a slip ofpaper which moved forward, actuated by clockwork, and pressed onby a sort of stylus. Then he covered it over lightly with dirt sothat, unless anyone had been looking for it, it would never benoticed. 

It was late when we reached the city again, but Kennedy had onemore piece of work and that devolved on me. All the way down onthe train he had been writing and rewriting something. 

"Walter, " he said, as the train pulled into the station, "I wantthat published in to-morrow's papers. "

I looked over what he had written. It was one of the mostsensational stories I have ever fathered, beginning, "Latest ofthe victims of the unknown poisoner of whole families inStratfield, Connecticut, is Miss Isabel Pearcy, whose father, Randall Pearcy, died last week. "

I knew that it was a "plant" of some kind, for so far he haddiscovered no evidence that Miss Pearcy had been affected. Whathis purpose was, I could not guess, but I got the story printed. 

The next morning early Kennedy was quietly at work in thelaboratory. 

"What is this treatment of lead poisoning by electrolysis?" Iasked, now that there had come a lull when I might get anintelligible answer. "How does it work?"

"Brand new, Walter, " replied Kennedy. "It has been discovered thations will flow directly through the membranes. "

"Ions?" I repeated. "What are ions?"

"Travelers, " he answered, smiling, "so named by Faraday from theGreek verb, io, to go. They are little positive and negativecharges of electricity of which molecules are composed. You knowsome believe now that matter is really composed of electricalenergy. I think I can explain it best by a simile I use with myclasses. It is as though you had a ballroom in which the dancersin couples represent the neutral molecules. There are a certainnumber of isolated ladies and gentlemen--dissociated ions--" "Whodon't know these new dances?" I interrupted. 

"They all know this dance, " he laughed. "But, to be serious in thesimile, suppose at one end of the room there is a large mirror andat the other a buffet with cigars and champagne. What happens tothe dissociated ions?"

"Well, I suppose you want me to say that the ladies gather aboutthe mirror and the men about the buffet. "

"Exactly. And some of the dancing partners separate and follow thecrowd. Well, that room presents a picture of what happens in anelectrolytic solution at the moment when the electric current ispassing through it. "

"Thanks, " I laughed. "That was quite adequate to my immatureunderstanding. "

Kennedy continued at work, checking up and arranging his datauntil the middle of the afternoon, when he went up to Stratfield. 

Having nothing better to do, I wandered out about town in the hopeof running across some one with whom to while away the hours untilKennedy returned. I found out that, since yesterday, Broadway hadwoven an entirely new background for the mystery. Now it wasrumored that the lawyer Minturn himself had been on very intimateterms with Mrs. Pearcy. I did not pay much attention to the rumor, for I knew that Broadway is constitutionally unable to believethat anybody is straight. 

Kennedy had commissioned me to keep in touch with Josephson and Ifinally managed to get around to the Baths, to find them stillclosed. 

As I was talking with him, a very muddy and dusty car pulled up atthe door and a young man whose face was marred by the redcongested blood vessels that are in some a mark of dissipationburst in on us. 

"What--closed up yet--Joe?" he asked. "Haven't they takenMinturn's body away?"

"Yes, it was sent up to Stratfield to-day, " replied the masseur, "but the coroner seems to want to worry me all he can. "

"Too bad. I was up almost all last night, and to-day I have beenout in my car--tired to death. Thought I might get some rest here. Where are you sending the boys--to the Longacre?"

"Yes. They'll take good care of you till I open up again. Hope tosee you back again, then, Mr. Pearcy, " he added, as the young manturned and hurried out to his car again. "That was that youngPearcy, you know. Nice boy--but living the life too fast. What'sKennedy doing--anything?"

I did not like the jaunty bravado of the masseur which now seemedto be returning, since nothing definite had taken shape. Idetermined that he should not pump me, as he evidently was tryingto do. I had at least fulfilled Kennedy's commission and felt thatthe sooner I left Josephson the better for both of us. 

I was surprised at dinner to receive a wire from Craig saying thathe was bringing down Dr. Gunther, Mrs. Pearcy and Isabel to NewYork and asking me to have Warner Pearcy and Josephson at thelaboratory at nine o'clock. 

By strategy I managed to persuade Pearcy to come, and as forJosephson, he could not very well escape, though I saw that aslong as nothing more had happened, he was more interested in"fixing" the police so that he could resume business than anythingelse. 

As we entered the laboratory that night, Kennedy, who had left hisparty at a downtown hotel to freshen up, met us each at the door. Instead of conducting us in front of his laboratory table, whichwas the natural way, he led us singly around through the narrowspace back of it. 

I recall that as I followed him, I half imagined that the floorgave way just a bit, and there flashed over me, by a queerassociation of ideas, the recollection of having visited anamusement park not long before where merely stepping on aninnocent-looking section of the flooring had resulted in atremendous knocking and banging beneath, much to the delight ofthe lovers of slap-stick humor. This was serious business, however, and I quickly banished the frivolous thought from mymind. 

"The discovery of poison, and its identification, " began Craig atlast when we had all arrived and were seated about him, "ofteninvolves not only the use of chemistry but also a knowledge of thechemical effect of the poison on the body, and the gross as wellas microscopic changes which it produces in various tissues andorgans--changes, some due to mere contact, others to the actualchemicophysiological reaction between the poison and the body. "

His hand was resting on the poles of a large battery, as heproceeded: "Every day the medical detective plays a more and moreimportant part in the detection of crime, and I might say that, except in the case of crime complicated by a lunacy plea, his workhas earned the respect of the courts and of detectives, while inthe case of insanity the discredit is the fault rather of the lawitself. The ways in which the doctor can be of use in untanglingthe facts in many forms of crime have become so numerous that theprofession of medical detective may almost be called a specialty. "

Kennedy repeated what he had already told me about electrolysis, then placed between the poles of the battery a large piece of rawbeef. 

He covered the negative electrode with blotting paper and soakedit in a beaker near at hand. 

"This solution, " he explained, "is composed of potassium iodide. In this other beaker I have a mixture of ordinary starch. "

He soaked the positive electrode in the starch and then jammed thetwo against the soft red meat. Then he applied the current. 

A few moments later he withdrew the positive electrode. Both itand the meat under it were blue!

"What has happened?" he asked. "The iodine ions have actuallypassed through the beef to the positive pole and the paper on theelectrode. Here we have starch iodide. "

It was a startling idea, this of the introduction of a substanceby electrolysis. 

"I may say, " he resumed, "that the medical view of electricity ischanging, due in large measure to the genius of the Frenchman, Dr. Leduc. The body, we know, is composed largely of water, with saltsof soda and potash. It is an excellent electrolyte. Yet mostdoctors regard the introduction of substances by the electriccurrent as insignificant or nonexistent. But on the contrary theintroduction of drugs by electrolysis is regular and far frombeing insignificant may very easily bring about death. 

"That action, " he went on, looking from one of us to another, "maybe therapeutic, as in the cure for lead poisoning by removing thelead, or it may be toxic--as in the case of actually introducingsuch a poison as strychnine into the body by the same forces thatwill remove the lead. "

He paused a moment, to enforce the point which had already beensuggested. I glanced about hastily. If anyone in his littleaudience was guilty, no one betrayed it, for all were followinghim, fascinated. Yet in the wildly throbbing brain of some one ofthem the guilty knowledge must be seared indelibly. Would the mereaccusation be enough to dissociate the truth from, that brain orwould Kennedy have to resort to other means?

"Some one, " he went on, in a low, tense voice, leaning forward, "some one who knew this effect placed strychnine salts on one ofthe electrodes of the bath which Owen Minturn was to use. "

He did not pause. Evidently he was planning to let the force ofhis exposure be cumulative, until from its sheer momentum itcarried everything before it. 

"Walter, " he ordered quickly. "Lend me a hand. "

Together we moved the laboratory table as he directed. 

There, in the floor, concealed by the shadow, he had placed thesame apparatus which I had seen him bury in the path between thePearcy and Minturn estates at Stratfield. 

We scarcely breathed. 

"This, " he explained rapidly, "is what is known as a kinograph--the invention of Professor HeleShaw of London. It enables me toidentify a person by his or her walk. Each of you as you enteredthis room has passed over this apparatus and has left a differentmark on the paper which registers. "

For a moment he stopped, as if gathering strength for the finalassault. 

"Until late this afternoon I had this kinograph secreted at acertain place in Stratfield. Some one had tampered with the leadenwater pipes and the electric light cable. Fearful that the leadpoisoning brought on by electrolysis might not produce its resultin the intended victim, that person took advantage of the newdiscoveries in electrolysis to complete that work by introducingthe deadly strychnine during the very process of cure of the leadpoisoning. "

He slapped down a copy of a newspaper. "In the news this morning Itold just enough of what I had discovered and colored it in such away that I was sure I would arouse apprehension. I did it becauseI wanted to make the criminal revisit the real scene of the crime. There was a double motive now--to remove the evidence and to checkthe spread of the poisoning. "

He reached over, tore off the paper with a quick, decisive motion, and laid it beside another strip, a little discolored by moisture, as though the damp earth had touched it. 

"That person, alarmed lest something in the cleverly laid plot, might be discovered, went to a certain spot to remove the tracesof the diabolical work which were hidden there. My kinograph showsthe footsteps, shows as plainly as if I had been present, theexact person who tried to obliterate the evidence, "

An ashen pallor seemed to spread over the face of Miss Pearcy, asKennedy shot out the words. 

"That person, " he emphasized, "had planned to put out of the wayone who had brought disgrace on the Pearcy family. It was an actof private justice. "

Mrs. Pearcy could stand the strain no longer. She had broken downand was weeping incoherently. I strained my ears to catch what shewas murmuring. It was Minturn's name, not Gunther's, that was onher lips. 

"But, " cried Kennedy, raising an accusatory finger from thekinograph tracing and pointing it like the finger of Fate itself, "but the self-appointed avenger forgot that the leaden water pipewas common to the two houses. Old Mr. Pearcy, the wronged, diedfirst. Isabel has guessed the family skeleton--has tried hard toshield you, but, Warner Pearcy, you are the murderer!"

CHAPTER XXXI

THE EUGENIC BRIDE

Scandal, such as that which Kennedy unearthed in this Pearcy case, was never much to his liking, yet he seemed destined, about thisperiod of his career, to have a good deal of it. 

We had scarcely finished with the indictment that followed thearrest of young Pearcy, when we were confronted by a situationwhich was as unique as it was intensely modern. 

"There's absolutely no insanity in Eugenia's family, " I heard ayoung man remark to Kennedy, as my key turned in the lock of thelaboratory door. 

For a moment I hesitated about breaking in on a confidentialconference, then reflected that, as they had probably alreadyheard me at the lock, I had better go in and excuse myself. 

As I swung the door open, I saw a young man pacing up and down thelaboratory nervously, too preoccupied even to notice the slightnoise I had made. 

He paused in his nervous walk and faced Kennedy, his back to me. 

"Kennedy, " he said huskily, "I wouldn't care if there was insanityin her family--for, my God!--the tragedy of it all now--I loveher!"

He turned, following Kennedy's eyes in my direction, and I saw onhis face the most haggard, haunting look of anxiety that I hadever seen on a young person. 

Instantly I recognized from the pictures I had seen in thenewspapers young Quincy Atherton, the last of this famous line ofthe family, who had attracted a great deal of attention severalmonths previously by what the newspapers had called his searchthrough society for a "eugenics bride, " to infuse new blood intothe Atherton stock. 

"You need have no fear that Mr. Jameson will be like the othernewspaper men, " reassured Craig, as he introduced us, mindful ofthe prejudice which the unpleasant notoriety of Atherton'smarriage had already engendered in his mind. 

I recalled that when I had first heard of Atherton's "eugenicmarriage, " I had instinctively felt a prejudice against the veryidea of such cold, calculating, materialistic, scientific mating, as if one of the last fixed points were disappearing in the chaosof the social and sex upheaval. 

Now, I saw that one great fact of life must always remain. Wemight ride in hydroaeroplanes, delve into the very soul bypsychanalysis, perhaps even run our machines by the internalforces of radium--even marry according to Galton or Mendel. Butthere would always be love, deep passionate love of the man forthe woman, love which all the discoveries of science might perhapsdirect a little less blindly, but the consuming flame of which notall the coldness of science could ever quench. No tampering withthe roots of human nature could ever change the roots. 

I must say that I rather liked young Atherton. He had a frank, open face, the most prominent feature of which was his somewhataristocratic nose. Otherwise he impressed one as being the victimof heredity in faults, if at all serious, against which he wasstruggling heroically. 

It was a most pathetic story which he told, a story of how hisfamily had degenerated from the strong stock of his ancestorsuntil he was the last of the line. He told of his education, howhe had fallen, a rather wild youth bent in the footsteps of hisfather who had been a notoriously good clubfellow, under theinfluence of a college professor, Dr. Crafts, a classmate of hisfather's, of how the professor had carefully and persistentlyfostered in him an idea that had completely changed him. 

"Crafts always said it was a case of eugenics against euthenics, "remarked Atherton, "of birth against environment. He would tell meover and over that birth gave me the clay, and it wasn't such badclay after all, but that environment would shape the vessel. "

Then Atherton launched into a description of how he had striven tofind a girl who had the strong qualities his family germ plasmseemed to have lost, mainly, I gathered, resistance to a taintmuch like manic depressive insanity. And as he talked, it wasborne in on me that, after all, contrary to my first prejudice, there was nothing very romantic indeed about disregarding theplain teachings of science on the subject of marriage and one'schildren. 

In his search for a bride, Dr. Crafts, who had founded a sort ofEugenics Bureau, had come to advise him. Others may have looked uptheir brides in Bradstreet's, or at least the Social Register. Atherton had gone higher, had been overjoyed to find that a girlhe had met in the West, Eugenia Gilman, measured up to what hisfriend told him were the latest teachings of science. He had beenoverjoyed because, long before Crafts had told him, he had foundout that he loved her deeply. 

"And now, " he went on, half choking with emotion, "she isapparently suffering from just the same sort of depression as Imyself might suffer from if the recessive trait became active. "

"What do you mean, for instance?" asked Craig. 

"Well, for one thing, she has the delusion that my relatives arepersecuting her. "

"Persecuting her?" repeated Craig, stifling the remark that thatwas not in itself a new thing in this or any other family. "How?"

"Oh, making her feel that, after all, it is Atherton family ratherthan Gilman health that counts--little remarks that when our babyis born, they hope it will resemble Quincy rather than Eugenia, and all that sort of thing, only worse and more cutting, until thething has begun to prey on her mind. "

"I see, " remarked Kennedy thoughtfully. "But don't you think thisis a case for a--a doctor, rather than a detective?"

Atherton glanced up quickly. "Kennedy, " he answered slowly, "wheremillions of dollars are involved, no one can guess to what lengthsthe human mind will go--no one, except you. "

"Then you have suspicions of something worse?"

"Y-yes--but nothing definite. Now, take this case. If I should diechildless, after my wife, the Atherton estate would descend to mynearest relative, Burroughs Atherton, a cousin. "

"Unless you willed it to--"

"I have already drawn a will, " he interrupted, "and in case Isurvive Eugenia and die childless, the money goes to the foundingof a larger Eugenics Bureau, to prevent in the future, as much aspossible, tragedies such as this of which I find myself a part. Ifthe case is reversed, Eugenia will get her third and the remainderwill go to the Bureau or the Foundation, as I call the newventure. But, " and here young Atherton leaned forward and fixedhis large eyes keenly on us, "Burroughs might break the will. Hemight show that I was of unsound mind, or that Eugenia was, too. "

"Are there no other relatives?"

"Burroughs is the nearest, " he replied, then added frankly, "Ihave a second cousin, a young lady named Edith Atherton, with whomboth Burroughs and I used to be very friendly. "

It was evident from the way he spoke that he had thought a greatdeal about Edith Atherton, and still thought well of her. 

"Your wife thinks it is Burroughs who is persecuting her?" askedKennedy. 

Atherton shrugged his shoulders. 

"Does she get along badly with Edith? She knows her I presume?"

"Of course. The fact is that since the death of her mother, Edithhas been living with us. She is a splendid girl, and all alone inthe world now, and I had hopes that in New York she might meetsome one and marry well. "

Kennedy was looking squarely at Atherton, wondering whether hemight ask a question without seeming impertinent. Atherton caughtthe look, read it, and answered quite frankly, "To tell the truth, I suppose I might have married Edith, before I met Eugenia, ifProfessor Crafts had not dissuaded me. But it wouldn't have beenreal love--nor wise. You know, " he went on more frankly, now thatthe first hesitation was over and he realized that if he were togain anything at all by Kennedy's services, there must be theutmost candor between them, "you know cousins may marry if thestocks are known to be strong. But if there is a defect, it isalmost sure to be intensified. And so I--I gave up the idea--neverhad it, in fact, so strongly as to propose to her. And when I metEugenia all the Athertons on the family tree couldn't have buckedup against the combination. "

He was deadly in earnest as he arose from the chair into which hehad dropped after I came in. 

"Oh, it's terrible--this haunting fear, this obsession that I havehad, that, in spite of all I have tried to do, some one, somehow, will defeat me. Then comes the situation, just at a time whenEugenia and I feel that we have won against Fate, and she inparticular needs all the consideration and care in the world--and--and I am defeated. "

Atherton was again pacing the laboratory. 

"I have my car waiting outside, " he pleaded. "I wish you would gowith me to see Eugenia--now. "

It was impossible to resist him. Kennedy rose and I followed, notwithout a trace of misgiving. 

The Atherton mansion was one of the old houses of the city, asomber stone dwelling with a garden about it on a downtown square, on which business was already encroaching. We were admitted by aservant who seemed to walk over the polished floors with stealthystep as if there was something sacred about even the Athertonsilence. As we waited in a high-ceilinged drawing-room withexquisite old tapestries on the walls, I could not help feelingmyself the influence of wealth and birth that seemed to cry outfrom every object of art in the house. 

On the longer wall of the room, I saw a group of paintings. One, Inoted especially, must have been Atherton's ancestor, the founderof the line. There was the same nose in Atherton, for instance, astriking instance of heredity. I studied the face carefully. Therewas every element of strength in it, and I thought instinctivelythat, whatever might have been the effects of in-breeding and badalliances, there must still be some of that strength left in thepresent descendant of the house of Atherton. The more I thoughtabout the house, the portrait, the whole case, the more unable wasI to get out of my head a feeling that though I had not been insuch a position before, I had at least read or heard something ofwhich it vaguely reminded me. 

Eugenia Atherton was reclining listlessly in her room in a deepleather easy chair, when Atherton took us up at last. She did notrise to greet us, but I noted that she was attired in what Kennedyonce called, as we strolled up the Avenue, "the expensivesloppiness of the present styles. " In her case the looseness withwhich her clothes hung was exaggerated by the lack of energy withwhich she wore them. 

She had been a beautiful girl, I knew. In fact, one could see thatshe must have been. Now, however, she showed marks of change. Hereyes were large, and protruding, not with the fire of passionwhich is often associated with large eyes, but dully, set in apuffy face, a trifle florid. Her hands seemed, when she movedthem, to shake with an involuntary tremor, and in spite of thefact that one almost could feel that her heart and lungs werespeeding with energy, she had lost weight and no longer had thefull, rounded figure of health. Her manner showed severe mentaldisturbance, indifference, depression, a distressingdeterioration. All her attractive Western breeziness was gone. Onefelt the tragedy of it only too keenly. 

"I have asked Professor Kennedy, a specialist, to call, my dear, "said Atherton gently, without mentioning what the specialty was. 

"Another one?" she queried languorously. 

There was a colorless indifference in the tone which was almosttragic. She said the words slowly and deliberately, as though evenher mind worked that way. 

From the first, I saw that Kennedy had been observing EugeniaAtherton keenly. And in the role of specialist in nervous diseaseshe was enabled to do what otherwise would have been difficult toaccomplish. 

Gradually, from observing her mental condition of indifferencewhich made conversation extremely difficult as well as profitless, he began to consider her physical condition. I knew him wellenough to gather from his manner alone as he went on that what hadseemed at the start to be merely a curious case, because itconcerned the Athertons, was looming up in his mind as unusual initself, and was interesting him because it baffled him. 

Craig had just discovered that her pulse was abnormally high, andthat consequently she had a high temperature, and was sweatingprofusely. 

"Would you mind turning your head, Mrs. Atherton?" he asked. 

She turned slowly, half way, her eyes fixed vacantly on the flooruntil we could see the once striking profile. 

"No, all the way around, if you please, " added Kennedy. 

She offered no objection, not the slightest resistance. As sheturned her head as far as she could, Kennedy quickly placed hisforefinger and thumb gently on her throat, the once beautifulthroat, now with skin harsh and rough. Softly he moved his fingersjust a fraction of an inch over the so-called "Adam's apple" andaround it for a little distance. 

"Thank you, " he said. "Now around to the other side. "

He made no other remark as he repeated the process, but I fanciedI could tell that he had had an instant suspicion of something themoment he touched her throat. 

He rose abstractedly, bowed, and we started to leave the room, uncertain whether she knew or cared. Quincy had fixed his eyessilently on Craig, as if imploring him to speak, but I knew howunlikely that was until he had confirmed his suspicion to the lastslightest detail. 

We were passing through a dressing room in the suite when we met atall young woman, whose face I instantly recognized, not because Ihad ever seen it before, but because she had the Atherton nose soprominently developed. 

"My cousin, Edith, " introduced Quincy. 

We bowed and stood for a moment chatting. There seemed to be noreason why we should leave the suite, since Mrs. Atherton paid solittle attention to us even when we had been in the same room. Yeta slight movement in her room told me that in spite of herlethargy she seemed to know that we were there and to recognizewho had joined us. 

Edith Atherton was a noticeable woman, a woman of temperament, notbeautiful exactly, but with a stateliness about her, an aloofness. The more I studied her face, with its thin sensitive lips andcommanding, almost imperious eyes, the more there seemed to besomething peculiar about her. She was dressed very simply inblack, but it was the simplicity that costs. One thing was quiteevident--her pride in the family of Atherton. 

And as we talked, it seemed to be that she, much more than Eugeniain her former blooming health, was a part of the somber house. There came over me again the impression I had received before thatI had read or heard something like this case before. 

She did not linger long, but continued her stately way into theroom where Eugenia sat. And at once it flashed over me what myimpression, indefinable, half formed, was. I could not helpthinking, as I saw her pass, of the lady Madeline in "The Fall ofthe House of Usher. "

CHAPTER XXXII

THE GERM PLASM

I regarded her with utter astonishment and yet found it impossibleto account for such a feeling. I looked at Atherton, but on hisface I could see nothing but a sort of questioning fear that onlyincreased my illusion, as if he, too, had only a vague, hauntingpremonition of something terrible impending. Almost I began towonder whether the Atherton house might not crumble under thefierceness of a sudden whirlwind, while the two women in thiscase, one representing the wasted past, the other the blastedfuture, dragged Atherton down, as the whole scene dissolved intosome ghostly tarn. It was only for a moment, and then I saw thatthe more practical Kennedy had been examining some bottles on thelady's dresser before which we had paused. 

One was a plain bottle of pellets which might have been somehomeopathic remedy. 

"Whatever it is that is the matter with Eugenia, " remarkedAtherton, "it seems to have baffled the doctors so far. "

Kennedy said nothing, but I saw that he had clumsily overturnedthe bottle and absently set it up again, as though his thoughtswere far away. Yet with a cleverness that would have done creditto a professor of legerdemain he had managed to extract two orthree of the pellets. 

"Yes, " he said, as he moved slowly toward the staircase in thewide hall, "most baffling. "

Atherton was plainly disappointed. Evidently he had expectedKennedy to arrive at the truth and set matters right by somesudden piece of wizardry, and it was with difficulty that herefrained from saying so. 

"I should like to meet Burroughs Atherton, " he remarked as westood in the wide hall on the first floor of the big house. "Is hea frequent visitor?"

"Not frequent, " hastened Quincy Atherton, in a tone that showedsome satisfaction in saying it. "However, by a lucky chance he haspromised to call to-night--a mere courtesy, I believe, to Edith, since she has come to town on a visit. "

"Good!" exclaimed Kennedy. "Now, I leave it to you, Atherton, tomake some plausible excuse for our meeting Burroughs here. "

"I can do that easily. "

"I shall be here early, " pursued Kennedy as we left. 

Back again in the laboratory to which Atherton insisted onaccompanying us in his car, Kennedy busied himself for a fewminutes, crushing up one of the tablets and trying one or tworeactions with some of the powder dissolved, while I looked oncuriously. 

"Craig, " I remarked contemplatively, after a while, "how aboutAtherton himself? Is he really free from the--er--stigmata, Isuppose you call them, of insanity?"

"You mean, may the whole trouble lie with him?" he asked, notlooking up from his work. 

"Yes--and the effect on her be a sort of reflex, say, perhaps theeffect of having sold herself for money and position. In otherwords, does she, did she, ever love him? We don't know that. Mightit not prey on her mind, until with the kind help of his preciousrelatives even Nature herself could not stand the strain--especially in the delicate condition in which she now findsherself?"

I must admit that I felt the utmost sympathy for the poor girlwhom we had just seen such a pitiable wreck. 

Kennedy closed his eyes tightly until they wrinkled at thecorners. 

"I think I have found out the immediate cause of her trouble, " hesaid simply, ignoring my suggestion. 

"What is it?" I asked eagerly. 

"I can't imagine how they could have failed to guess it, exceptthat they never would have suspected to look for anythingresembling exophthalmic goiter in a person of her stamina, " heanswered, pronouncing the word slowly. "You have heard of thethyroid gland in the neck?"

"Yes?" I queried, for it was a mere name to me. 

"It is a vascular organ lying under the chin with a sort of littleisthmus joining the two parts on either side of the windpipe, " heexplained. "Well, when there is any deterioration of those glandsthrough any cause, all sorts of complications may arise. Thethyroid is one of the so-called ductless glands, like the adrenalsabove the kidneys, the pineal gland and the pituitary body. Innormal activity they discharge into the blood substances which arecarried to other organs and are now known to be absolutelyessential. 

"The substances which they secrete are called 'hormones'--thosechemical messengers, as it were, by which many of the processes ofthe body are regulated. In fact, no field of experimentalphysiology is richer in interest than this. It seems that fewordinary drugs approach in their effects on metabolism thehormones of the thyroid. In excess they produce such diseases asexophthalmic goiter, and goiter is concerned with the enlargementof the glands and surrounding tissues beyond anything like naturalsize. Then, too, a defect in the glands causes the disease knownas myxedema in adults and cretinism in children. Most of all, thegland seems to tell on the germ plasm of the body, especially inwomen. "

I listened in amazement, hardly knowing what to think. Did hisdiscovery portend something diabolical, or was it purely a defectin nature which Dr. Crafts of the Eugenics Bureau had overlooked?

"One thing at a time, Walter, " cautioned Kennedy, when I put thequestion to him, scarcely expecting an answer yet. 

That night in the old Atherton mansion, while we waited forBorroughs to arrive, Kennedy, whose fertile mind had contrived tokill at least two birds with one stone, busied himself by cuttingin on the regular telephone line and placing an extension of hisown in a closet in the library. To it he attached an ordinarytelephone receiver fastened to an arrangement which was strange tome. As nearly as I can describe it, between the diaphragm of theregular receiver and a brownish cylinder, like that of aphonograph, and with a needle attached, was fitted an air chamberof small size, open to the outer air by a small hole to preventcompression. 

The work was completed expeditiously, but we had plenty of time towait, for Borroughs Atherton evidently did not consider that anevening had fairly begun until nine o'clock. 

He arrived at last, however, rather tall, slight of figure, narrow-shouldered, designed for the latest models of importedfabrics. It was evident merely by shaking hands with Burroughsthat he thought both the Athertons and the Burroughses just theright combination. He was one of those few men against whom Iconceive an instinctive prejudice, and in this case I feltpositive that, whatever faults the Atherton germ plasm mightcontain, he had combined others from the determiners of that ofthe other ancestors he boasted. I could not help feeling thatEugenia Atherton was in about as unpleasant an atmosphere ofsocial miasma as could be imagined. 

Burroughs asked politely after Eugenia, but it was evident thatthe real deference was paid to Edith Atherton and that they gotalong very well together. Burroughs excused himself early, and wefollowed soon after. 

"I think I shall go around to this Eugenics Bureau of Dr. Crafts, "remarked Kennedy the next day, after a night's consideration ofthe case. 

The Bureau occupied a floor in a dwelling house uptown which hadbeen remodeled into an office building. Huge cabinets were stackedup against the walls, and in them several women were engaged infiling blanks and card records. Another part of the officeconsisted of an extensive library on eugenic subjects. 

Dr. Crafts, in charge of the work, whom we found in a littleoffice in front partitioned off by ground glass, was an old manwith an alert, vigorous mind on whom the effects of plain livingand high thinking showed plainly. He was looking over some newblanks with a young woman who seemed to be working with him, directing the force of clerks as well as the "field workers, " whowere gathering the vast mass of information which was beingstudied. As we introduced ourselves, he introduced Dr. MaudeSchofield. 

"I have heard of your eugenic marriage contests, " began Kennedy, "more especially of what you have done for Mr. Quincy Atherton. "

"Well--not exactly a contest in that case, at least, " correctedDr. Crafts with an indulgent smile for a layman. 

"No, " put in Dr. Schofield, "the Eugenics Bureau isn't a humanstock farm. "

"I see, " commented Kennedy, who had no such idea, anyhow. He wasalways lenient with anyone who had what he often referred to asthe "illusion of grandeur. "

"We advise people sometimes regarding the desirability or theundesirability of marriage, " mollified Dr. Crafts. "This is a sortof clearing house for scientific race investigation andimprovement. "

"At any rate, " persisted Kennedy, "after investigation, Iunderstand, you advised in favor of his marriage with MissGilman. "

"Yes, Eugenia Gilman seemed to measure well up to the requirementsin such a match. Her branch of the Gilmans has always been of thevigorous, pioneering type, as well as intellectual. Her father wasone of the foremost thinkers in the West; in fact had long heldideas on the betterment of the race. You see that in the choice ofa name for his daughter--Eugenia. "

"Then there were no recessive traits in her family, " asked Kennedyquickly, "of the same sort that you find in the Athertons?"

"None that we could discover, " answered Dr. Crafts positively. 

"No epilepsy, no insanity of any form?"

"No. Of course, you understand that almost no one is what might becalled eugenically perfect. Strictly speaking, perhaps not overtwo or three per cent. Of the population even approximates thatstandard. But it seemed to me that in everything essential in thiscase, weakness latent in Atherton was mating strength in Eugeniaand the same way on her part for an entirely different set oftraits. "

"Still, " considered Kennedy, "there might have been somethinglatent in her family germ plasm back of the time through which youcould trace it?"

Dr. Crafts shrugged his shoulders. "There often is, I must admit, something we can't discover because it lies too far back in thepast. "

"And likely to crop out after skipping generations, " put in MaudeSchofield. 

She evidently did not take the same liberal view in the practicalapplication of the matter expressed by her chief. I set it down tothe ardor of youth in a new cause, which often becomes the sanerconservatism of maturity. 

"Of course, you found it much easier than usual to get at the truefamily history of the Athertons, " pursued Kennedy. "It is an oldfamily and has been prominent for generations. "

"Naturally, " assented Dr. Crafts. 

"You know Burroughs Atherton on both lines of descent?" askedKennedy, changing the subject abruptly. 

"Yes, fairly well, " answered Crafts. 

"Now, for example, " went on Craig, "how would you advise him tomarry?"

I saw at once that he was taking this subterfuge as a way ofsecuring information which might otherwise have been withheld ifasked for directly. Maude Schofield also saw it, I fancied, butthis time said nothing. "They had a grandfather who was a manicdepressive on the Atherton side, " said Crafts slowly. "Now, noattempt has ever been made to breed that defect out of the family. In the case of Burroughs, it is perhaps a little worse, for theother side of his ancestry is not free from the taint ofalcoholism. "

"And Edith Atherton?"

"The same way. They both carry it. I won't go into the Mendelianlaw on the subject. We are clearing up much that is obscure. Butas to Burroughs, he should marry, if at all, some one without thatparticular taint. I believe that in a few generations by propermating most taints might be bred out of families. "

Maude Schofield evidently did not agree with Dr. Crafts on somepoint, and, noticing it, he seemed to be in the position both ofexplaining his contention to us and of defending it before hisfair assistant. 

"It is my opinion, as far as I have gone with the data, " he added, "that there is hope for many of those whose family history showscertain nervous taints. A sweeping prohibition of such marriageswould be futile, perhaps injurious. It is necessary that themating be carefully made, however, to prevent intensifying thetaint. You see, though I am a eugenist I am not an extremist. "

He paused, then resumed argumentatively: "Then there are otherquestions, too, like that of genius with its close relation tomanic depressive insanity. Also, there is decrease enough in thebirth rate, without adding an excuse for it. No, that a young manlike Atherton should take the subject seriously, instead ofspending his time in wild dissipation, like his father, iscertainly creditable, argues in itself that there still must existsome strength in his stock. 

"And, of course, " he continued warmly, "when I say that weaknessin a trait--not in all traits, by any means--should marry strengthand that strength may marry weakness, I don't mean that allmatches should be like that. If we are too strict we may prohibitpractically all marriages. In Atherton's case, as in many another, I felt that I should interpret the rule as sanely as possible. "

"Strength should marry strength, and weakness should never marry, "persisted Maude Schofield. "Nothing short of that will satisfy thetrue eugenist. "

"Theoretically, " objected Crafts. "But Atherton was going tomarry, anyhow. The only thing for me to do was to lay down a rulewhich he might follow safely. Besides, any other rule meant suredisaster. "

"It was the only rule with half a chance of being followed and atany rate, " drawled Kennedy, as the eugenists wrangled, "whatdifference does it make in this case? As nearly as I can make outit is Mrs. Atherton herself, not Atherton, who is ill. "

Maude Schofield had risen to return to supervising a clerk whoneeded help. She left us, still unconvinced. 

"That is a very clever girl, " remarked Kennedy as she shut thedoor and he scanned Dr. Crafts' face dosely. 

"Very, " assented the Doctor. 

"The Schofields come of good stock?" hazarded Kennedy. 

"Very, " assented Dr. Crafts again. 

Evidently he did not care to talk about individual cases, and Ifelt that the rule was a safe one, to prevent Eugenics frombecoming Gossip. Kennedy thanked him for his courtesy, and we leftapparently on the best of terms both with Crafts and hisassistant. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE SEX CONTROL

I did not see Kennedy again that day until late in the afternoon, when he came into the laboratory carrying a small package. 

"Theory is one thing, practice is another, " he remarked, as hethrew his hat and coat into a chair. 

"Which means--in this case?" I prompted. 

"Why, I have just seen Atherton. Of course I didn't repeat ourconversation of this morning, and I'm glad I didn't. He almostmakes me think you are right, Walter. He's obsessed by the fear ofBurroughs. Why, he even told me that Burroughs had gone so far asto take a leaf out of his book, so to speak, get in touch with theEugenics Bureau as if to follow his footsteps, but really to pumpthem about Atherton himself. Atherton says it's all Burroughs'plan to break his will and that the fellow has even gone so far asto cultivate the acquaintance of Maude Schofield, knowing that hewill get no sympathy from Crafts. "

"First it was Edith Atherton, now it is Maude Schofield that hehitches up with Burroughs, " I commented. "Seems to me that I haveheard that one of the first signs of insanity is belief thateveryone about the victim is conspiring against him. I haven't anylove for any of them--but I must be fair. "

"Well, " said Kennedy, unwrapping the package, "there IS this muchto it. Atherton says Burroughs and Maude Schofield have been seentogether more than once--and not at intellectual gatheringseither. Burroughs is a fascinating fellow to a woman, if he wantsto be, and the Schofields are at least the social equals of theBurroughs. Besides, " he added, "in spite of eugenics, feminism, and all the rest--sex, like murder, will out. There's no usehaving any false ideas about THAT. Atherton may see red--but, then, he was quite excited. "

"Over what?" I asked, perplexed more than ever at the turn ofevents. 

"He called me up in the first place. 'Can't you do something?' heimplored. 'Eugenia is getting worse all the time. ' She is, too. Isaw her for a moment, and she was even more vacant thanyesterday. "

The thought of the poor girl in the big house somehow brought overme again my first impression of Poe's story. 

Kennedy had unwrapped the package which proved to be theinstrument he had left in the closet at Atherton's. It was, as Ihad observed, like an ordinary wax cylinder phonograph record. 

"You see, " explained Kennedy, "it is nothing more than asuccessful application at last of, say, one of those phonographsyou have seen in offices for taking dictation, placed so that thefeebler vibrations of the telephone affect it. Let us see what wehave here. "

He had attached the cylinder to an ordinary phonograph, and aftera number of routine calls had been run off, he came to this, invoices which we could only guess at but not recognize, for nonames were used. 

"How is she to-day?"

"Not much changed--perhaps not so well. "

"It's all right, though. That is natural. It is working well. Ithink you might increase the dose, one tablet. "

"You're sure it is all right?" (with anxiety). 

"Oh, positively--it has been done in Europe. "

"I hope so. It must be a boy--and an ATHERTON?"

"Never fear. "

That was all. Who was it? The voices were unfamiliar to me, especially when repeated mechanically. Besides they may have beendisguised. At any rate we had learned something. Some one wastrying to control the sex of the expected Atherton heir. But thatwas about all. Who it was, we knew no better, apparently, thanbefore. 

Kennedy did not seem to care much, however. Quickly he got QuincyAtherton on the wire and arranged for Atherton to have Dr. Craftsmeet us at the house at eight o'clock that night, with MaudeSchofield. Then he asked that Burroughs Atherton be there, and ofcourse, Edith and Eugenia. 

We arrived almost as the clock was striking, Kennedy carrying thephonograph record and another blank record, and a boy tuggingalong the machine itself. Dr. Crafts was the next to appear, expressing surprise at meeting us, and I thought a bit annoyed, for he mentioned that it had been with reluctance that he had hadto give up some work he had planned for the evening. MaudeSchofield, who came with him, looked bored. Knowing that shedisapproved of the match with Eugenia, I was not surprised. Burroughs arrived, not as late as I had expected, but almostinsultingly supercilious at finding so many strangers at whatAtherton had told him was to be a family conference, in order toget him to come. Last of all Edith Atherton descended thestaircase, the personification of dignity, bowing to each with astudied graciousness, as if distributing largess, but greetingBurroughs with an air that plainly showed how much thicker wasblood than water. Eugenia remained upstairs, lethargic, almostcataleptic, as Atherton told us when we arrived. 

"I trust you are not going to keep us long, Quincy, " yawnedBurroughs, looking ostentatiously at his watch. 

"Only long enough for Professor Kennedy to say a few words aboutEugenia, " replied Atherton nervously, bowing to Kennedy. 

Kennedy cleared his throat slowly. 

"I don't know that I have much to say, " began Kennedy, stillseated. "I suppose Mr. Atherton has told you I have been muchinterested in the peculiar state of health of Mrs. Atherton?"

No one spoke, and he went on easily: "There is something I mightsay, however, about the--er--what I call the chemistry ofinsanity. Among the present wonders of science, as you doubtlessknow, none stirs the imagination so powerfully as the doctrinethat at least some forms of insanity are the result of chemicalchanges in the blood. For instance, ill temper, intoxication, manythings are due to chemical changes in the blood acting on thebrain. 

"Go further back. Take typhoid fever with its delirium, influenzawith its suicide mania. All due to toxins--poisons. Chemistry--chemistry--all of them chemistry. "

Craig had begun carefully so as to win their attention. He had itas he went on: "Do we not brew within ourselves poisons whichenter the circulation and pervade the system? A sudden emotionupsets the chemistry of the body. Or poisonous food. Or a drug. Itaffects many things. But we could never have had this chemicaltheory unless we had had physiological chemistry--and some carryit so far as to say that the brain secretes thought, just as theliver secretes bile, that thoughts are the results of molecularchanges. "

"You are, then, a materialist of the most pronounced type, "asserted Dr. Crafts. 

Kennedy had been reaching over to a table, toying with thephonograph. As Crafts spoke he moved a key, and I suspected thatit was in order to catch the words. 

"Not entirely, " he said. "No more than some eugenists. "

"In our field, " put in Maude Schofield, "I might express thethought this way--the sociologist has had his day; now it is thebiologist, the eugenist. "

"That expresses it, " commented Kennedy, still tinkering with therecord. "Yet it does not mean that because we have new ideas, theyabolish the old. Often they only explain, amplify, supplement. Forinstance, " he said, looking up at Edith Atherton, "take heredity. Our knowledge seems new, but is it? Marriages have always beendictated by a sort of eugenics. Society is founded on that. "

"Precisely, " she answered. "The best families have always marriedinto the best families. These modern notions simply recognize whatthe best people have always thought--except that it seems to me, "she added with a sarcastic flourish, "people of no ancestry aretrying to force themselves in among their betters. "

"Very true, Edith, " drawled Burroughs, "but we did not have to bebrought here by Quincy to learn that. "

Quincy Atherton had risen during the discussion and had approachedKennedy. Craig continued to finger the phonograph abstractedly, ashe looked up. 

"About this--this insanity theory, " he whispered eagerly. "Youthink that the suspicions I had have been justified?"

I had been watching Kennedy's hand. As soon as Atherton hadstarted to speak, I saw that Craig, as before, had moved the key, evidently registering what he said, as he had in the case of theothers during the discussion. 

"One moment, Atherton, " he whispered in reply, "I'm coming tothat. Now, " he resumed aloud, "there is a disease, or a number ofdiseases, to which my remarks about insanity a while ago mightapply very well. They have been known for some time to arise fromvarious affections of the thyroid glands in the neck. Theseglands, strange to say, if acted on in certain ways can causedegenerations of mind and body, which are well known, but in spiteof much study are still very little understood. For example, thereis a definite interrelation between them and sex--especially inwoman. "

Rapidly he sketched what he had already told me of the thyroid andthe hormones. "These hormones, " added Kennedy, "are closelyrelated to many reactions in the body, such as even the mother'ssecretion of milk at the proper time and then only. That and manyother functions are due to the presence and character of thesechemical secretions from the thyroid and other ductless glands. Itis a fascinating study. For we know that anything that will upset--reduce or increase--the hormones is a matter intimately concernedwith health. Such changes, " he said earnestly, leaning forward, "might be aimed directly at the very heart of what otherwise wouldbe a true eugenic marriage. It is even possible that loss of sexitself might be made to follow deep changes of the thyroid. "

He stopped a moment. Even if he had accomplished nothing else hehad struck a note which had caused the Athertons to forget theirformer superciliousness. 

"If there is an oversupply of thyroid hormones, " continued Craig, "that excess will produce many changes, for instance a conditionvery much like exophthalmic goiter. And, " he said, straighteningup, "I find that Eugenia Atherton has within her blood an undueproportion of these thyroid hormones. Now, is it overfunction ofthe glands, hyper-secretion--or is it something else?"

No one moved as Kennedy skillfully led his disclosure along stepby step. 

"That question, " he began again slowly, shifting his position inthe chair, "raises in my mind, at least, a question which hasoften occurred to me before. Is it possible for a person, takingadvantage of the scientific knowledge we have gained, to deviseand successfully execute a murder without fear of discovery? Inother words, can a person be removed with that technical nicety ofdetail which will leave no clue and will be set down as somethingentirely natural, though unfortunate?"

It was a terrible idea he was framing, and he dwelt on it so thatwe might accept it at its full value. "As one doctor has said, " headded, "although toxicologists and chemists have not alwayspossessed infallible tests for practical use, it is at present apretty certain observation that every poison leaves its mark. Butthen on the other hand, students of criminology have said that askilled physician or surgeon is about the only person now capableof carrying out a really scientific murder. 

"Which is true? It seems to me, at least in the latter case, thatthe very nicety of the handiwork must often serve as a clue initself. The trained hand leaves the peculiar mark characteristicof its training. No matter how shrewdly the deed is planned, theexecution of it is daily becoming a more and more difficult feat, thanks to our increasing knowledge of microbiology and pathology. "

He had risen, as he finished the sentence, every eye fixed on him, as if he had been a master hypnotist. 

"Perhaps, " he said, taking off the cylinder from the phonographand placing on one which I knew was that which had lain in thelibrary closet over night, "perhaps some of the things I have saidwill explain or be explained by the record on this cylinder. "

He had started the machine. So magical was the effect on thelittle audience that I am tempted to repeat what I had alreadyheard, but had not myself yet been able to explain:

"How is she to-day?"

"Not much changed--perhaps not so well. "

"It's all right, though. That is natural. It is working well. Ithink you might increase the dose one tablet. "

"You're sure it is all right?"

"Oh, positively--it has been done in Europe. "

"I hope so. It must be a boy--and an ATHERTON. "

"Never fear. "

No one moved a muscle. If there was anyone in the room guilty ofplaying on the feelings and the health of an unfortunate woman, that person must have had superb control of his own feelings. 

"As you know, " resumed Kennedy thoughtfully, "there are and havebeen many theories of sex control. One of the latest, but by nomeans the only one, is that it can be done by use of the extractsof various glands administered to the mother. I do not know withwhat scientific authority it was stated, but I do know that someone has recently said that adrenalin, derived from the suprarenalglands, induces boys to develop--cholin, from the bile of theliver, girls. It makes no difference--in this case. There may havebeen a show of science. But it was to cover up a crime. Some onehas been administering to Eugenia Atherton tablets of thyroidextract--ostensibly to aid her in fulfilling the dearest ambitionof her soul--to become the mother of a new line of Athertons whichmight bear the same relation to the future of the country as thegreat family of the Edwards mothered by Elizabeth Tuttle. "

He was bending over the two phonograph cylinders now, rapidlycomparing the new one which he had made and that which he had justallowed to reel off its astounding revelation. 

"When a voice speaks into a phonograph, " he said, half to himself, "its modulations received on the diaphragm are written by a needlepoint upon the surface of a cylinder or disk in a series of finewaving or zigzag lines of infinitely varying depth or breadth. Dr. Marage and others have been able to distinguish vocal sounds bythe naked eye on phonograph records. Mr. Edison has studied themwith the microscope in his world-wide search for the perfectvoice. 

"In fact, now it is possible to identify voices by the recordsthey make, to get at the precise meaning of each slightestvariation of the lines with mathematical accuracy. They can nomore be falsified than handwriting can be forged so that modernscience cannot detect it or than typewriting can be concealed andattributed to another machine. The voice is like a finger print, aportrait parle--unescapable. "

He glanced up, then back again. "This microscope shows me, " hesaid, "that the voices on that cylinder you heard are identicalwith two on this record which I have just made in this room. "

"Walter, " he said, motioning to me, "look. "

I glanced into the eyepiece and saw a series of lines and curves, peculiar waves lapping together and making an appearance in somespots almost like tooth marks. Although I did not understand thedetails of the thing, I could readily see that by study one mightlearn as much about it as about loops, whorls, and arches onfinger tips. 

"The upper and lower lines, " he explained, "with long regularwaves, on that highly magnified section of the record, are formedby the voice with no overtones. The three lines in the middle, with rhythmic ripples, show the overtones. "

He paused a moment and faced us. "Many a person, " he resumed, "isa biotype in whom a full complement of what are called inhibitionsnever develops. That is part of your eugenics. Throughout life, and in spite of the best of training, that person reacts now andthen to a certain stimulus directly. A man stands high; once ayear he falls with a lethal quantity of alcohol. A woman, brilliant, accomplished, slips away and spends a day with a loveras unlike herself as can be imagined. 

"The voice that interests me most on these records, " he went on, emphasizing the words with one of the cylinders which he stillheld, "is that of a person who has been working on the familypride of another. That person has persuaded the other toadminister to Eugenia an extract because 'it must be a boy and anAtherton. ' That person is a high-class defective, born with acriminal instinct, reacting to it in an artful way. Thank God, thelove of a man whom theoretical eugenics condemned, roused us in--"

A cry at the door brought us all to our feet, with hearts thumpingas if they were bursting. 

It was Eugenia Atherton, wild-eyed, erect, staring. 

I stood aghast at the vision. Was she really to be the LadyMadeline in this fall of the House of Atherton?

"Edith--I--I missed you. I heard voices. Is--is it true--what thisman--says? Is my--my baby--"

Quincy Atherton leaped forward and caught her as she reeled. Quickly Craig threw open a window for air, and as he did so leanedfar out and blew shrilly on a police whistle. 

The young man looked up from Eugenia, over whom he was bending, scarcely heeding what else went on about him. Still, there was notrace of anger on his face, in spite of the great wrong that hadbeen done him. There was room for only one great emotion--onlyanxiety for the poor girl who had suffered so cruelly merely fortaking his name. 

Kennedy saw the unspoken question in his eyes. 

"Eugenia is a pure normal, as Dr. Crafts told you, " he saidgently. "A few weeks, perhaps only days, of treatment--the thyroidwill revert to its normal state--and Eugenia Gilman will be themother of a new house of Atherton which may eclipse even the proudrecord of the founder of the old. "

"Who blew the whistle?" demanded a gruff voice at the door, as atall bluecoat puffed past the scandalized butler. 

"Arrest that woman, " pointed Kennedy. "She is the poisoner. Eitheras wife of Burroughs, whom she fascinates and controls as she doesEdith, she planned to break the will of Quincy or, in the otherevent, to administer the fortune as head of the EugenicsFoundation after the death of Dr. Crafts, who would have followedEugenia and Quincy Atherton. "

I followed the direction of Kennedy's accusing finger. MaudeSchofield's face betrayed more than even her tongue could haveconfessed. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE BILLIONAIRE BABY

Coming to us directly as a result of the talk that the Athertoncase provoked was another that involved the happiness of a wealthyfamily to a no less degree. 

"I suppose you have heard of the 'billionaire baby, ' MortonHazleton III?" asked Kennedy of me one afternoon shortlyafterward. 

The mere mention of the name conjured up in my mind a picture ofthe lusty two-year-old heir of two fortunes, as the featurearticles in the Star had described that little scion of wealth--his luxurious nursery, his magnificent toys, his own motor car, atrained nurse and a detective on guard every hour of the day andnight, every possible precaution for his health and safety. 

"Gad, what a lucky kid!" I exclaimed involuntarily. 

"Oh, I don't know about that, " put in Kennedy. "The fortune may beexaggerated. His happiness is, I'm sure. "

He had pulled from his pocketbook a card and handed it to me. Itread: "Gilbert Butler, American representative, Lloyd's. "

"Lloyd's?" I queried. "What has Lloyd's to do with the billion-dollar baby?"

"Very much. The child has been insured with them for some fabuloussum against accident, including kidnaping. "

"Yes?" I prompted, "sensing" a story. 

"Well, there seem to have been threats of some kind, I understand. Mr. Butler has called on me once already to-day to retain myservices and is going to--ah--there he is again now. "

Kennedy had answered the door buzzer himself, and Mr. Butler, atall, sloping-shouldered Englishman, entered. 

"Has anything new developed?" asked Kennedy, introducing me. 

"I can't say, " replied Butler dubiously. "I rather think we havefound something that may have a bearing on the case. You know MissHaversham, Veronica Haversham?"

"The actress and professional beauty? Yes--at least I have seenher. Why?"

"We hear that Morton Hazleton knows her, anyhow, " remarked Butlerdryly. 

"Well?"

"Then you don't know the gossip?" he cut in. "She is said to be ina sanitarium near the city. I'll have to find that out for you. It's a fast set she has been traveling with lately, including notonly Hazleton, but Dr. Maudsley, the Hazleton physician, and oneor two others, who if they were poorer might be called desperatecharacters. "

"Does Mrs. Hazleton know of--of his reputed intimacy?"

"I can't say that, either. I presume that she is no fool. "

Morton Hazleton, Jr. , I knew, belonged to a rather smart group ofyoung men. He had been mentioned in several near-scandals, but asfar as I knew there had been nothing quite as public and definiteas this one. 

"Wouldn't that account for her fears?" I asked. 

"Hardly, " replied Butler, shaking his head. "You see, Mrs. Hazleton is a nervous wreck, but it's about the baby, and caused, she says, by her fears for its safety. It came to us only in aroundabout way, through a servant in the house who keeps us intouch. The curious feature is that we can seem to get nothingdefinite from her about her fears. They may be groundless. "

Butler shrugged his shoulders and proceeded, "And they may bewell-founded. But we prefer to run no chances in a case of thiskind. The child, you know, is guarded in the house. In hisperambulator he is doubly guarded, and when he goes out for hisairing in the automobile, two men, the chauffeur and a detective, are always there, besides his nurse, and often his mother orgrandmother. Even in the nursery suite they have iron shutterswhich can be pulled down and padlocked at night and areconstructed so as to give plenty of fresh air even to a scientificbaby. Master Hazleton was the best sort of risk, we thought. Butnow--we don't know. "

"You can protect yourselves, though, " suggested Kennedy. 

"Yes, we have, under the policy, the right to take certainmeasures to protect ourselves in addition to the precautions takenby the Hazletons. We have added our own detective to those alreadyon duty. But we--we don't know what to guard against, " heconcluded, perplexed. "We'd like to know--that's all. It's too biga risk. "

"I may see Mrs. Hazleton?" mused Kennedy. 

"Yes. Under the circumstances she can scarcely refuse to seeanyone we send. I've arranged already for you to meet her withinan hour. Is that all right?"

"Certainly. "

The Hazleton home in winter in the city was uptown, facing theriver. The large grounds adjoining made the Hazletons quiteindependent of the daily infant parade which one sees alongRiverside Drive. 

As we entered the grounds we could almost feel the very atmosphereon guard. We did not see the little subject of so much concern, but I remembered his much heralded advent, when his grandparentshad settled a cold million on him, just as a reward for cominginto the world. Evidently, Morton, Sr. , had hoped that Morton, Jr. , would calm down, now that there was a third generation toconsider. It seemed that he had not. I wondered if that had reallybeen the occasion of the threats or whatever it was that hadcaused Mrs. Hazleton's fears, and whether Veronica Haversham orany of the fast set around her had had anything to do with it. 

Millicent Hazleton was a very pretty little woman, in whom one sawinstinctively the artistic temperament. She had been an actress, too, when young Morton Hazleton married her, and at first, atleast, they had seemed very devoted to each other. 

We were admitted to see her in her own library, a tastefullyfurnished room on the second floor of the house, facing a gardenat the side. 

"Mrs. Hazleton, " began Butler, smoothing the way for us, "ofcourse you realize that we are working in your interests. Professor Kennedy, therefore, in a sense, represents both of us. "

"I am quite sure I shall be delighted to help you, " she said withan absent expression, though not ungraciously. 

Butler, having introduced us, courteously withdrew. "I leave thisentirely in your hands, " he said, as he excused himself. "If youwant me to do anything more, call on me. "

I must say that I was much surprised at the way she had receivedus. Was there in it, I wondered, an element of fear lest if sherefused to talk suspicion might grow even greater? One could seeanxiety plainly enough on her face, as she waited for Kennedy tobegin. 

A few moments of general conversation then followed. 

"Just what is it you fear?" he asked, after having gradually ledaround to the subject. "Have there been any threatening letters?"

"N-no, " she hesitated, "at least nothing--definite. "

"Gossip?" he hinted. 

"No. " She said it so positively that I fancied it might be takenfor a plain "Yes. "

"Then what is it?" he asked, very deferentially, but firmly. 

She had been looking out at the garden. "You couldn't understand, "she remarked. "No detective--" she stopped. 

"You may be sure, Mrs. Hazleton, that I have not come hereunnecessarily to intrude, " he reassured her. "It is exactly as Mr. Butler put it. We--want to help you. "

I fancied there seemed to be something compelling about hismanner. It was at once sympathetic and persuasive. Quite evidentlyhe was taking pains to break down the prejudice in her mind whichshe had already shown toward the ordinary detective. 

"You would think me crazy, " she remarked slowly. "But it is justa--a dream--just dreams. "

I don't think she had intended to say anything, for she stoppedshort and looked at him quickly as if to make sure whether hecould understand. As for myself, I must say I felt a littleskeptical. To my surprise, Kennedy seemed to take the statement atits face value. 

"Ah, " he remarked, "an anxiety dream? You will pardon me, Mrs. Hazleton, but before we go further let me tell you frankly that Iam much more than an ordinary detective. If you will permit me, Ishould rather have you think of me as a psychologist, aspecialist, one who has come to set your mind at rest rather thanto worm things from you by devious methods against which you haveto be on guard. It is just for such an unusual case as yours thatMr. Butler has called me in. By the way, as our interview may lasta few minutes, would you mind sitting down? I think you'll find iteasier to talk if you can get your mind perfectly at rest, and forthe moment trust to the nurse and the detectives who are guardingthe garden, I am sure, perfectly. "

She had been standing by the window during the interview and wasquite evidently growing more and more nervous. With a bow Kennedyplaced her at her ease on a chaise lounge. 

"Now, " he continued, standing near her, but out of sight, "youmust try to remain free from all external influences andimpressions. Don't move. Avoid every use of a muscle. Don't letanything distract you. Just concentrate your attention on yourpsychic activities. Don't suppress one idea as unimportant, irrelevant, or nonsensical. Simply tell me what occurs to you inconnection with the dreams--everything, " emphasized Craig. 

I could not help feeling surprised to find that she acceptedKennedy's deferential commands, for after all that was what theyamounted to. Almost I felt that she was turning to him for help, that he had broken down some barrier to her confidence. He seemedto exert a sort of hypnotic influence over her. 

"I have had cases before which involved dreams, " he was sayingquietly and reassuringly. "Believe me, I do not share the world'sopinion that dreams are nothing. Nor yet do I believe in themsuperstitiously. I can readily understand how a dream can play amighty part in shaping the feelings of a high-tensioned woman. Might I ask exactly what it is you fear in your dreams?"

She sank her head back in the cushions, and for a moment closedher eyes, half in weariness, half in tacit obedience to him. "Oh, I have such horrible dreams, " she said at length, "full of anxietyand fear for Morton and little Morton. I can't explain it. Butthey are so horrible. "

Kennedy said nothing. She was talking freely at last. 

"Only last night, " she went on, "I dreamt that Morton was dead. Icould see the funeral, all the preparations, and the procession. It seemed that in the crowd there was a woman. I could not see herface, but she had fallen down and the crowd was around her. ThenDr. Maudsley appeared. Then all of a sudden the dream changed. Ithought I was on the sand, at the seashore, or perhaps a lake. Iwas with Junior and it seemed as if he were wading in the water, his head bobbing up and down in the waves. It was like a desert, too--the sand. I turned, and there was a lion behind me. I did notseem to be afraid of him, although I was so close that I couldalmost feel his shaggy mane. Yet I feared that he might biteJunior. The next I knew I was running with the child in my arms. Iescaped--and--oh, the relief!"

She sank back, half exhausted, half terrified still by therecollection. 

"In your dream when Dr. Maudsley appeared, " asked Kennedy, evidently interested in filling in the gap, "what did he do?"

"Do?" she repeated. "In the dream? Nothing. "

"Are you sure?" he asked, shooting a quick glance at her. 

"Yes. That part of the dream became indistinct. I'm sure he didnothing, except shoulder through the crowd. I think he had justentered. Then that part of the dream seemed to end and the secondpart began. "

Piece by piece Kennedy went over it, putting it together as if itwere a mosaic. 

"Now, the woman. You say her face was hidden?"

She hesitated. "N--no. I saw it. But it was no one I knew. "

Kennedy did not dwell on the contradiction, but added, "And thecrowd?"

"Strangers, too. "

"Dr. Maudsley is your family physician?" he questioned. 

"Yes. "

"Did he call--er--yesterday?"

"He calls every day to supervise the nurse who has Junior incharge. "

"Could one always be true to oneself in the face of anytemptation?" he asked suddenly. 

It was a bold question. Yet such had been the gradual manner ofhis leading up to it that, before she knew it, she had answeredquite frankly, "Yes--if one always thought of home and her child, I cannot see how one could help controlling herself. "

She seemed to catch her breath, almost as though the words hadescaped her before she knew it. 

"Is there anything besides your dream that alarms you, " he asked, changing the subject quickly, "any suspicion of--say theservants?"

"No, " she said, watching him now. "But some time ago we caught aburglar upstairs here. He managed to escape. That has made menervous. I didn't think it was possible. "

"Anything else?"

"No, " she said positively, this time on her guard. 

Kennedy saw that she had made up her mind to say no more. 

"Mrs. Hazleton, " he said, rising. "I can hardly thank you too muchfor the manner in which you have met my questions. It will make itmuch easier for me to quiet your fears. And if anything elseoccurs to you, you may rest assured I shall violate no confidencesin your telling me. "

I could not help the feeling, however, that there was just alittle air of relief on her face as we left. 

CHAPTER XXXV

THE PSYCHANALYSIS

"H--M, " mused Kennedy as we walked along after leaving the house. "There were several 'complexes, ' as they are called, there--themost interesting and important being the erotic, as usual. Now, take the lion in the dream, with his mane. That, I suspect, wasDr. Maudsley. If you are acquainted with him, you will recall hisheavy, almost tawny beard. "

Kennedy seemed to be revolving something in his mind and I did notinterrupt. I had known him too long to feel that even a dreammight not have its value with him. Indeed, several times before hehad given me glimpses into the fascinating possibilities of thenew psychology. 

"In spite of the work of thousands of years, little progress hasbeen made in the scientific understanding of dreams, " he remarkeda few moments later. "Freud, of Vienna--you recall the name?--hasdone most, I think in that direction. "

I recalled something of the theories of the Freudists, but saidnothing. 

"It is an unpleasant feature of his philosophy, " he went on, "butFreud finds the conclusion irresistible that all humanityunderneath the shell is sensuous and sensual in nature. Practically all dreams betray some delight of the senses andsexual dreams are a large proportion. There is, according to thetheory, always a wish hidden or expressed in a dream. The dream isone of three things, the open, the disguised or the distortedfulfillment of a wish, sometimes recognized, sometimes repressed. 

"Anxiety dreams are among the most interesting and importantAnxiety may originate in psycho-sexual excitement, the repressedlibido, as the Freudists call it. Neurotic fear has its origin insexual life and corresponds to a libido which has been turned awayfrom its object and has not succeeded in being applied. All so-called day dreams of women are erotic; of men they are eitherambition or love. 

"Often dreams, apparently harmless, turn out to be sinister if wetake pains to interpret them. All have the mark of the beast. Forexample, there was that unknown woman who had fallen down and wassurrounded by a crowd. If a woman dreams that, it is sexual. Itcan mean only a fallen woman. That is the symbolism. The crowdalways denotes a secret. 

"Take also the dream of death. If there is no sorrow felt, thenthere is another cause for it. But if there is sorrow, then thedreamer really desires death or absence. I expect to have youquarrel with that. But read Freud, and remember that in childhooddeath is synonymous with being away. Thus for example, if a girldreams that her mother is dead, perhaps it means only that shewishes her away so that she can enjoy some pleasure that herstrict parent, by her presence, denies. 

"Then there was that dream about the baby in the water. That, Ithink, was a dream of birth. You see, I asked her practically torepeat the dreams because there were several gaps. At such pointsone usually finds first hesitation, then something that shows oneof the main complexes. Perhaps the subject grows angry at thediscovery. 

"Now, from the tangle of the dream thought, I find that she fearsthat her husband is too intimate with another woman, and thatperhaps unconsciously she has turned to Dr. Maudsley for sympathy. Dr. Maudsley, as I said, is not only bearded, but somewhat of asocial lion. He had called on her the day before. Of such stuffare all dream lions when there is no fear. But she shows that shehas been guilty of no wrongdoing--she escaped, and felt relieved. "

"I'm glad of that, " I put in. "I don't like these scandals. On theStar when I have to report them, I do it always under protest. Idon't know what your psychanalysis is going to show in the end, but I for one have the greatest sympathy for that poor littlewoman in the big house alone, surrounded by and dependent onservants, while her husband is out collecting scandals. "

"Which suggests our next step, " he said, turning the subject. "Ihope that Butler has found out the retreat of Veronica Haversham. "

We discovered Miss Haversham at last at Dr. Klemm's sanitarium, upin the hills of Westchester County, a delightful place with areputation for its rest cures. Dr. Klemm was an old friend ofKennedy's, having had some connection with the medical school atthe University. 

She had gone up there rather suddenly, it seemed, to recuperate. At least that was what was given out, though there seemed to bemuch mystery about her, and she was taking no treatment as far aswas known. 

"Who is her physician?" asked Kennedy of Dr. Klemm as we sat inhis luxurious office. 

"A Dr. Maudsley of the city. "

Kennedy glanced quickly at me in time to check an exclamation. 

"I wonder if I could see her?"

"Why, of course--if she is willing, " replied Dr. Klemm. 

"I will have to have some excuse, " ruminated Kennedy. "Tell her Iam a specialist in nervous troubles from the city, have beenvisiting one of the other patients, anything. "

Dr. Klemm pulled down a switch on a large oblong oak box on hisdesk, asked for Miss Haversham, and waited a moment. 

"What is that?" I asked. 

"A vocaphone, " replied Kennedy. "This sanitarium is quite up todate, Klemm. "

The doctor nodded and smiled. "Yes, Kennedy, " he replied. "Communicating with every suite of rooms we have the vocaphone. Ifind it very convenient to have these microphones, as I supposeyou would call them, catching your words without talking into themdirectly as you have to do in the telephone and then at the otherend emitting the words without the use of an earpiece, from thebox itself, as if from a megaphone horn. Miss Haversham, this isDr. Klemm. There is a Dr. Kennedy here visiting another patient, aspecialist from New York. He'd like very much to see you if youcan spare a few minutes. "

"Tell him to come up. " The voice seemed to come from the vocaphoneas though she were in the room with us. 

Veronica Haversham was indeed wonderful, one of the leadingfigures in the night life of New York, a statuesque brunette ofstriking beauty, though I had heard of often ungovernable temper. Yet there was something strange about her face here. It seemedperhaps a little yellow, and I am sure that her nose had apeculiar look as if she were suffering from an incipient rhinitis. The pupils of her eyes were as fine as pin heads, her eyebrowswere slightly elevated. Indeed, I felt that she had made nomistake in taking a rest if she would preserve the beauty whichhad made her popularity so meteoric. 

"Miss Haversham, " began Kennedy, "they tell me that you aresuffering from nervousness. Perhaps I can help you. At any rate itwill do no harm to try. I know Dr. Maudsley well, and if hedoesn't approve--well, you may throw the treatment into the wastebasket. "

"I'm sure I have no reason to refuse, " she said. "What would yousuggest?"

"Well, first of all, there is a very simple test I'd like to try. You won't find that it bothers you in the least--and if I can'thelp you, then no harm is done. "

Again I watched Kennedy as he tactfully went through thepreparations for another kind of psychanalysis, placing MissHaversham at her ease on a davenport in such a way that nothingwould distract her attention. As she reclined against the leatherpillows in the shadow it was not difficult to understand the lureby which she held together the little coterie of her intimates. One beautiful white arm, bare to the elbow, hung carelessly overthe edge of the davenport, displaying a plain gold bracelet. 

"Now, " began Kennedy, on whom I knew the charms of Miss Havershamproduced a negative effect, although one would never have guessedit from his manner, "as I read off from this list of words, I wishthat you would repeat the first thing, anything, " he emphasized, "that comes into your head, no matter how trivial it may seem. Don't force yourself to think. Let your ideas flow naturally. Itdepends altogether on your paying attention to the words andanswering as quickly as you can--remember, the first word thatcomes into your mind. It is easy to do. We'll call it a game, " hereassured. 

Kennedy handed a copy of the list to me to record the answers. There must have been some fifty words, apparently senseless, chosen at random, it seemed. They were:

 head to dance salt white lie

 green sick new child to fear

 water pride to pray sad stork

 to sing ink money to marry false

 death angry foolish dear anxiety

 long needle despise to quarrel to kiss

 ship voyage finger old bride

 to pay to sin expensive family pure

 window bread to fall friend ridicule

 cold rich unjust luck to sleep

"The Jung association word test is part of the Freudpsychanalysis, also, " he whispered to me, "You remember we triedsomething based on the same idea once before?"

I nodded. I had heard of the thing in connection with blood-pressure tests, but not this way. 

Kennedy called out the first word, "Head, " while in his hand heheld a stop watch which registered to one-fifth of a second. 

Quickly she replied, "Ache, " with an involuntary movement of herhand toward her beautiful forehead. 

"Good, " exclaimed Kennedy. "You seem to grasp the idea better thanmost of my patients. "

I had recorded the answer, he the time, and we found out, I recallafterward, that the time averaged something like two and two-fifths seconds. 

I thought her reply to the second word, "green, " was curious. Itcame quickly, "Envy. "

However, I shall not attempt to give all the replies, but merelysome of the most significant. There did not seem to be anyhesitation about most of the words, but whenever Kennedy tried toquestion her about a word that seemed to him interesting she madeeither evasive or hesitating answers, until it became evident thatin the back of her head was some idea which she was repressing andconcealing from us, something that she set off with a mental "NoThoroughfare. "

He had finished going through the list, and Kennedy was nowstudying over the answers and comparing the time records. 

"Now, " he said at length, running his eye over the words again, "Iwant to repeat the performance. Try to remember and duplicate yourfirst replies, " he said. 

Again we went through what at first had seemed to me to be asolemn farce, but which I began to see was quite important. Sometimes she would repeat the answer exactly as before. At othertimes a new word would occur to her. Kennedy was keen to note allthe differences in the two lists. 

One which I recall because the incident made an impression on mehad to do with the trio, "Death--life--inevitable. " "Why that?" heasked casually. 

"Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'One should let nothing whichone can have escape, even if a little wrong is done; noopportunity should be missed; life is so short, deathinevitable'?"

There were several others which to Kennedy seemed more important, but long after we had finished I pondered this answer. Was thather philosophy of life? Undoubtedly she would never haveremembered the phrase if it had not been so, at least in ameasure. 

She had begun to show signs of weariness, and Kennedy quicklybrought the conversation around to subjects of apparently ageneral nature, but skillfully contrived so as to lead the wayalong lines her answers had indicated. 

Kennedy had risen to go, still chatting. Almost unintentionally hepicked up from a dressing table a bottle of white tablets, withouta label, shaking it to emphasize an entirely, and I believepurposely, irrelevant remark. 

"By the way, " he said, breaking off naturally, "what is that?"

"Only something Dr. Maudsley had prescribed for me, " she answeredquickly. 

As he replaced the bottle and went on with the thread of theconversation, I saw that in shaking the bottle he had abstracted acouple of the tablets before she realized it. "I can't tell youjust what to do without thinking the case over, " he concluded, rising to go. "Yours is a peculiar case, Miss Haversham, baffling. I'll have to study it over, perhaps ask Dr. Maudsley If I may seeyou again. Meanwhile, I am sure what he is doing is the correctthing. "

Inasmuch as she had said nothing about what Dr. Maudsley wasdoing, I wondered whether there was not just a trace of suspicionin her glance at him from under her long dark lashes. 

"I can't see that you have done anything, " she remarked pointedly. "But then doctors are queer--queer. "

That parting shot also had in it, for me, something to ponderover. In fact I began to wonder if she might not be a great dealmore clever than even Kennedy gave her credit for being, whethershe might not have submitted to his tests for pure love of pullingthe wool over his eyes. 

Downstairs again, Kennedy paused only long enough to speak a fewwords with his friend Dr. Klemm. 

"I suppose you have no idea what Dr. Maudsley has prescribed forher?" he asked carelessly. 

"Nothing, as far as I know, except rest and simple food. "

He seemed to hesitate, then he said under his voice, "I supposeyou know that she is a regular dope fiend, seasons her cigaretteswith opium, and all that. "

"I guessed as much, " remarked Kennedy, "but how does she get ithere?"

"She doesn't. "

"I see, " remarked Craig, apparently weighing now the man beforehim. At length he seemed to decide to risk something. 

"Klemm, " he said, "I wish you would do something for me. I see youhave the vocaphone here. Now if--say Hazleton--should call--willyou listen in on that vocaphone for me?" Dr. Klemm looked squarelyat him. 

"Kennedy, " he said, "it's unprofessional, but---"

"So it is to let her be doped up under guise of a cure. "

"What?" he asked, startled. "She's getting the stuff now?"

"No, I didn't say she was getting opium, or from anyone here. Allthe same, if you would just keep an ear open---"

"It's unprofessional, but--you'd not ask it without a good reason. I'll try. "

It was very late when we got back to the city and we dined at anuptown restaurant which we had almost to ourselves. 

Kennedy had placed the little whitish tablets in a small paperpacket for safe keeping. As we waited for our order he drew onefrom his pocket, and after looking at it a moment crushed it to apowder in the paper. 

"What is it?" I asked curiously. "Cocaine?"

"No, " he said, shaking his head doubtfully. 

He had tried to dissolve a little of the powder in some water fromthe glass before him, but it would not dissolve. 

As he continued to look at it his eye fell on the cut-glassvinegar cruet before us. It was full of the white vinegar. 

"Really acetic acid, " he remarked, pouring out a little. 

The white powder dissolved. 

For several minutes he continued looking at the stuff. 

"That, I think, " he remarked finally, "is heroin. "

"More 'happy dust'?" I replied with added interest now, thinkingof our previous case. "Is the habit so extensive?"

"Yes, " he replied, "the habit is comparatively new, although inParis, I believe, they call the drug fiends, 'heroinomaniacs. ' Itis, as I told you before, a derivative of morphine. Its scientificname is diacetyl-morphin. It is New York's newest peril, one ofthe most dangerous drugs yet. Thousands are slaves to it, althoughits sale is supposedly restricted. It is rotting the heart out ofthe Tenderloin. Did you notice Veronica Haversham's yellowishwhiteness, her down-drawn mouth, elevated eyebrows, and contractedeyes? She may have taken it up to escape other drugs. Some peoplehave--and have just got a new habit. It can be takenhypodermically, or in a tablet, or by powdering the tablet to awhite crystalline powder and snuffing up the nose. That's the wayshe takes it. It produces rhinitis of the nasal passages, which Isee you observed, but did not understand. It has a more profoundeffect than morphine, and is ten times as powerful as codeine. Andone of the worst features is that so many people start with it, thinking it is as harmless as it has been advertised. I wouldn'tbe surprised if she used from seventy-five to a hundred one-twelfth grain tablets a day. Some of them do, you know. "

"And Dr. Maudsley, " I asked quickly, "do you think it is throughhim or in spite of him?"

"That's what I'd like to know. About those words, " he continued, "what did you make of the list and the answers?"

I had made nothing and said so, rather quickly. 

"Those, " he explained, "were words selected and arranged to strikealmost all the common complexes in analyzing and diagnosing. You'dthink any intelligent person could give a fluent answer to them, perhaps a misleading answer. But try it yourself, Walter. You'llfind you can't. You may start all right, but not all the wordswill be reacted to in the same time or with the same smoothnessand ease. Yet, like the expressions of a dream, they often seemsenseless. But they have a meaning as soon as they are'psychanalyzed. ' All the mistakes in answering the second time, for example, have a reason, if we can only get at it. They are notarbitrary answers, but betray the inmost subconscious thoughts, those things marked, split off from consciousness and repressedinto the unconscious. Associations, like dreams, never lie. Youmay try to conceal the emotions and unconscious actions, but youcan't. "

I listened, fascinated by Kennedy's explanation. 

"Anyone can see that that woman has something on her mind besidesthe heroin habit. It may be that she is trying to shake the habitoff in order to do it; it may be that she seeks relief from herthoughts by refuge in the habit; and it may be that some one haspurposely caused her to contract this new habit in the guise ofthrowing off an old. The only way by which to find out is to studythe case. "

He paused. He had me keenly on edge, but I knew that he was notyet in a position to answer his queries positively. 

"Now I found, " he went on, "that the religious complexes wereextremely few; as I expected the erotic were many. If you willlook over the three lists you will find something queer aboutevery such word as, 'child, 'to marry, ' 'bride, ' 'to lie, ''stork, ' and so on. We're on the right track. That woman does knowsomething about that child. "

"My eye catches the words 'to sin, ' 'to fall, ' 'pure, ' andothers, " I remarked, glancing over the list. 

"Yes, there's something there, too. I got the hint for the drugfrom her hesitation over 'needle' and 'white. ' But the maincomplex has to do with words relating to that child and to love. In short, I think we are going to find it to be the reverse of therule of the French, that it will be a case of 'cherchez l'homme. '"

Early the next day Kennedy, after a night of studying over thecase, journeyed up to the sanitarium again. We found Dr. Klemmeager to meet us. 

"What is it?" asked Kennedy, equally eager. 

"I overheard some surprising things over the vocaphone, " hehastened. "Hazleton called. Why, there must have been some wildorgies in that precious set of theirs, and, would you believe it, many of them seem to have been at what Dr. Maudsley calls his'stable studio, ' a den he has fixed up artistically over hisgarage on a side street. "

"Indeed?"

"I couldn't get it all, but I did hear her repeating over and overto Hazleton, 'Aren't you all mine? Aren't you all mine?' Theremust be some vague jealousy lurking in the heart of that ardentwoman. I can't figure it out. "

"I'd like to see her again, " remarked Kennedy. "Will you ask herif I may?"

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE ENDS OF JUSTICE

A few minutes later we were in the sitting room of her suite. Shereceived us rather ungraciously, I thought. 

"Do you feel any better?" asked Kennedy. 

"No, " she replied curtly. "Excuse me for a moment. I wish to seethat maid of mine. Clarisse!"

She had hardly left the room when Kennedy was on his feet. Thebottle of white tablets, nearly empty, was still on the table. Isaw him take some very fine white powder and dust it quickly overthe bottle. It seemed to adhere, and from his pocket he quicklydrew a piece of what seemed to be specially prepared paper, laidit over the bottle where the powder adhered, fitting it over thecurves. He withdrew it quickly, for outside we heard her lightstep, returning. I am sure she either saw or suspected thatKennedy had been touching the bottle of tablets, for there was alook of startled fear on her face. 

"Then you do not feel like continuing the tests we abandoned lastnight?" asked Kennedy, apparently not noticing her look. 

"No, I do not, " she almost snapped. "You--you are detectives. Mrs. Hazleton has sent you. "

"Indeed, Mrs. Hazleton has not sent us, " insisted Kennedy, neverfor an instant showing his surprise at her mention of the name. 

"You are. You can tell her, you can tell everybody. I'll tell--I'll tell myself. I won't wait. That child is mine--mine--nothers. Now--go!"

Veronica Haversham on the stage never towered in a fit of passionas she did now in real life, as her ungovernable feelings brokeforth tempestuously on us. 

I was astounded, bewildered at the revelation, the possibilitiesin those simple words, "The child is mine. " For a moment I wasstunned. Then as the full meaning dawned on me I wondered in aflood of consciousness whether it was true. Was it the product ofher drug-disordered brain? Had her desperate love for Hazletonproduced a hallucination?

Kennedy, silent, saw that the case demanded quick action. I shallnever forget the breathless ride down from the sanitarium to theHazleton house on Riverside Drive. 

"Mrs. Hazleton, " he cried, as we hurried in, "you will pardon mefor this unceremonious intrusion, but it is most important. May Itrouble you to place your fingers on this paper--so?"

He held out to her a piece of the prepared paper. She looked athim once, then saw from his face that he was not to be questioned. Almost tremulously she did as he said, saying not a word. Iwondered whether she knew the story of Veronica, or whether so faronly hints of it had been brought to her. 

"Thank you, " he said quickly. "Now, if I may see Morton?"

It was the first time we had seen the baby about whom the rapidlythickening events were crowding. He was a perfect specimen ofwell-cared-for, scientific infant. 

Kennedy took the little chubby fingers playfully in his own. Heseemed at once to win the child's confidence, though he may haveviolated scientific rules. One by one he pressed the littlefingers on the paper, until little Morton crowed with delight asone little piggy after another "went to market. " He had desertedthousands of dollars' worth of toys just to play with the simplepiece of paper Kennedy had brought with him. As I looked at him, Ithought of what Kennedy had said at the start. Perhaps thisinnocent child was not to be envied after all. I could hardlyrestrain my excitement over the astounding situation which hadsuddenly developed. 

"That will do, " announced Kennedy finally, carelessly folding upthe paper and slipping it into his pocket. "You must excuse menow. "

"You see, " he explained on the way to the laboratory, "that powderadheres to fresh finger prints, taking all the gradations. Thenthe paper with its paraffine and glycerine coating takes off thepowder. "

In the laboratory he buried himself in work, with microscopecompasses, calipers, while I fumed impotently at the window. 

"Walter, " he called suddenly, "get Dr. Maudsley on the telephone. Tell him to come immediately to the laboratory. "

Meanwhile Kennedy was busy arranging what he had discovered inlogical order and putting on it the finishing touches. 

As Dr. Maudsley entered Kennedy greeted him and began by plungingdirectly into the case in answer to his rather discourteousinquiry as to why he had been so hastily summoned. 

"Dr. Maudsley, " said Craig, "I have asked you to call alonebecause, while I am on the verge of discovering the truth in animportant case affecting Morton Hazleton and his wife, I amfrankly perplexed as to how to go ahead. "

The doctor seemed to shake with excitement as Kennedy proceeded. 

"Dr. Maudsley, " Craig added, dropping his voice, "is Morton IIIthe son of Millicent Hazleton or not? You were the physician inattendance on her at the birth. Is he?"

Maudsley had been watching Kennedy furtively at first, but as herapped out the words I thought the doctor's eyes would pop out ofhis head. Perspiration in great beads collected on his face. 

"P--professor K--Kennedy, " he muttered, frantically rubbing hisface and lower jaw as if to compose the agitation he could so illconceal, "let me explain. "

"Yes, yes--go on, " urged Kennedy. 

"Mrs. Hazleton's baby was born--dead. I knew how much she and therest of the family had longed for an heir, how much it meant. AndI--substituted for the dead child a newborn baby from thematernity hospital. It--it belonged to Veronica Haversham--then apoor chorus girl. I did not intend that she should ever know it. Iintended that she should think her baby was dead. But in some wayshe found out. Since then she has become a famous beauty, hasnumbered among her friends even Hazleton himself. For nearly twoyears I have tried to keep her from divulging the secret. Fromtime to time hints of it have leaked out. I knew that if Hazletonwith his infatuation of her were to learn---" "And Mrs. Hazleton, has she been told?" interrupted Kennedy. 

"I have been trying to keep it from her as long as I can, but ithas been difficult to keep Veronica from telling it. Hazletonhimself was so wild over her. And she wanted her son as she---"

"Maudsley, " snapped out Kennedy, slapping down on the table themass of prints and charts which he had hurriedly collected and wasstudying, "you lie! Morton is Millicent Hazleton's son. The wholestory is blackmail. I knew it when she told me of her dreams and Isuspected first some such devilish scheme as yours. Now I know itscientifically. "

He turned over the prints. 

"I suppose that study of these prints, Maudsley, will conveynothing to you. I know that it is usually stated that there are notwo sets of finger prints in the world that are identical or thatcan be confused. Still, there are certain similarities of fingerprints and other characteristics, and these similarities haverecently been exhaustively studied by Bertilion, who has foundthat there are clear relationships sometimes between mother andchild in these respects. If Solomon were alive, doctor, he wouldnot now have to resort to the expedient to which he did when thetwo women disputed over the right to the living child. Modernscience is now deciding by exact laboratory methods the sameproblem as he solved by his unique knowledge of femininepsychology. 

"I saw how this case was tending. Not a moment too soon, I said tomyself, 'The hand of the child will tell. ' By the very variationsin unlike things, such as finger and palm prints, as tabulated andarranged by Bertillon after study in thousands of cases, by thevery loops, whorls, arches and composites, I have proved my case. 

"The dominancy, not the identity, of heredity through the infinitevarieties of finger markings is sometimes very striking. Uniquepatterns in a parent have been repeated with marvelous accuracy inthe child. I knew that negative results might prove nothing inregard to parentage, a caution which it is important to observe. But I was prepared to meet even that. 

"I would have gone on into other studies, such as Tammasia's, ofheredity in the veining of the back of the hands; I would havemeasured the hands, compared the relative proportion of the parts;I would have studied them under the X-ray as they are beingstudied to-day; I would have tried the Reichert blood crystal testwhich is being perfected now so that it will tell heredity itself. There is no scientific stone I would have left unturned until Ihad delved at the truth of this riddle. Fortunately it was notnecessary. Simple finger prints have told me enough. And best ofall, it has been in time to frustrate that devilish scheme you andVeronica Haversham have been slowly unfolding. "

Maudsley crumpled up, as it were, at Kennedy's denunciation. Heseemed to shrink toward the door. 

"Yes, " cried Kennedy, with extended forefinger, "you may go--forthe present. Don't try to run away. You're watched from thismoment on. "

Maudsley had retreated precipitately. 

I looked at Kennedy inquiringly. What to do? It was indeed adelicate situation, requiring the utmost care to handle. If thestory had been told to Hazleton, what might he not have alreadydone? He must be found first of all if we were to meet theconspiracy of these two. 

Kennedy reached quickly for the telephone. "There is one stream ofscandal that can be dammed at its source, " he remarked, calling anumber. "Hello. Klemm's Sanitarium? I'd like to speak with MissHaversham. What--gone? Disappeared? Escaped?"

He hung up the receiver and looked at me blankly. I wasspeechless. 

A thousand ideas flew through our minds at once. Had she perceivedthe import of our last visit and was she now on her way tocomplete her plotted slander of Millicent Hazleton, though itpulled down on herself in the end the whole structure?

Hastily Kennedy called Hazleton's home, Butler, and one afteranother of Hazleton's favorite clubs. It was not until noon thatButler himself found him and came with him, under protest, to thelaboratory. 

"What is it--what have you found?" cried Butler, his lean form a-quiver with suppressed excitement. 

Briefly, one fact after another, sparing Hazleton nothing, Kennedypoured forth the story, how by hint and innuendo Maudsley had beenworking on Millicent, undermining her, little knowing that he hadattacked in her a very tower of strength, how Veronica, infatuatedby him, had infatuated him, had led him on step by step. 

Pale and agitated, with nerves unstrung by the life he had beenleading, Hazleton listened. And as Kennedy hammered one fact afteranother home, he clenched his fists until the nails dug into hisvery palms. 

"The scoundrels, " he ground out, as Kennedy finished by paintingthe picture of the brave little broken-hearted woman fighting offshe knew not what, and the golden-haired, innocent baby stretchingout his arms in glee at the very chance to prove that he was whathe was. "The scoundrels--take me to Maudsley now. I must seeMaudsley. Quick!"

As we pulled up before the door of the reconstructed stable-studio, Kennedy jumped out. The door was unlocked. Up the broadflight of stairs, Hazleton went two at a time. We followed himclosely. 

Lying on the divan in the room that had been the scene of so manyorgies, locked in each other's arms, were two figures--VeronicaHaversham and Dr. Maudsley. 

She must have gone there directly after our visit to Dr. Klemm's, must have been waiting for him when he returned with his story ofthe exposure to answer her fears of us as Mrs. Hazleton'sdetectives. In a frenzy of intoxication she must have flung herarms blindly about him in a last wild embrace. 

Hazleton looked, aghast. 

He leaned over and took her arm. Before he could frame the name, "Veronica!" he had recoiled. 

The two were cold and rigid. 

"An overdose of heroin this time, " muttered Kennedy. 

My head was in a whirl. 

Hazleton stared blankly at the two figures abjectly lying beforehim, as the truth burned itself indelibly into his soul. Hecovered his face with his hands. And still he saw it all. 

Craig said nothing. He was content to let what he had shown workin the man's mind. 

"For the sake of--that baby--would she--would she forgive?" askedHazleton, turning desperately toward Kennedy. 

Deliberately Kennedy faced him, not as scientist and millionaire, but as man and man. 

"From my psychanalysis, " he said slowly, "I should say that it ISwithin your power, in time, to change those dreams. "

Hazleton grasped Kennedy's hand before he knew it. 

"Kennedy--home--quick. This is the first manful impulse I have hadfor two years. And, Jameson--you'll tone down that part of it inthe newspapers that Junior--might read--when he grows up?"

THE END