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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur, by Richard Harding Davis
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Amateur
+
+Author: Richard Harding Davis
+
+Release Date: May 12, 2006 [EBook #1822]
+Last Updated: September 26, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMATEUR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Don Lainson
+
+
+
+
+
+THE AMATEUR
+
+
+By Richard Harding Davis
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+It was February off the Banks, and so thick was the weather that, on
+the upper decks, one could have driven a sleigh. Inside the smoking-room
+Austin Ford, as securely sheltered from the blizzard as though he had
+been sitting in front of a wood fire at his club, ordered hot gin for
+himself and the ship’s doctor. The ship’s doctor had gone below on
+another “hurry call” from the widow. At the first luncheon on board the
+widow had sat on the right of Doctor Sparrow, with Austin Ford facing
+her. But since then, except to the doctor, she had been invisible. So,
+at frequent intervals, the ill health of the widow had deprived Ford of
+the society of the doctor. That it deprived him, also, of the society
+of the widow did not concern him. HER life had not been spent upon ocean
+liners; she could not remember when state-rooms were named after the
+States of the Union. She could not tell him of shipwrecks and salvage,
+of smugglers and of the modern pirates who found their victims in the
+smoking-room.
+
+Ford was on his way to England to act as the London correspondent of the
+New York Republic. For three years on that most sensational of the New
+York dailies he had been the star man, the chief muckraker, the chief
+sleuth. His interest was in crime. Not in crimes committed in passion or
+inspired by drink, but in such offences against law and society as
+are perpetrated with nice intelligence. The murderer, the burglar, the
+strong-arm men who, in side streets, waylay respectable citizens did not
+appeal to him. The man he studied, pursued, and exposed was the cashier
+who evolved a new method of covering up his peculations, the dishonest
+president of an insurance company, the confidence man who used no
+concealed weapon other than his wit. Toward the criminals he pursued
+young Ford felt no personal animosity. He harassed them as he would
+have shot a hawk killing chickens. Not because he disliked the hawk,
+but because the battle was unequal, and because he felt sorry for the
+chickens.
+
+Had you called Austin Ford an amateur detective he would have been
+greatly annoyed. He argued that his position was similar to that of
+the dramatic critic. The dramatic critic warned the public against bad
+plays; Ford warned it against bad men. Having done that, he left it to
+the public to determine whether the bad man should thrive or perish.
+
+When the managing editor told him of his appointment to London, Ford had
+protested that his work lay in New York; that of London and the English,
+except as a tourist and sight-seer, he knew nothing.
+
+“That’s just why we are sending you,” explained the managing editor.
+“Our readers are ignorant. To make them read about London you’ve got
+to tell them about themselves in London. They like to know who’s been
+presented at court, about the American girls who have married dukes; and
+which ones opened a bazaar, and which one opened a hat shop, and which
+is getting a divorce. Don’t send us anything concerning suffragettes and
+Dreadnaughts. Just send us stuff about Americans. If you take your meals
+in the Carlton grill-room and drink at the Cecil you can pick up more
+good stories than we can print. You will find lots of your friends over
+there. Some of those girls who married dukes,” he suggested, “know you,
+don’t they?”
+
+“Not since they married dukes,” said Ford.
+
+“Well, anyway, all your other friends will be there,” continued the
+managing editor encouragingly. “Now that they have shut up the tracks
+here all the con men have gone to London. They say an American can’t
+take a drink at the Salisbury without his fellow-countrymen having a
+fight as to which one will sell him a gold brick.”
+
+Ford’s eyes lightened in pleasurable anticipation.
+
+“Look them over,” urged the managing editor, “and send us a special.
+Call it ‘The American Invasion.’ Don’t you see a story in it?”
+
+“It will be the first one I send you,” said Ford. The ship’s doctor
+returned from his visit below decks and sank into the leather cushion
+close to Ford’s elbow. For a few moments the older man sipped doubtfully
+at his gin and water, and, as though perplexed, rubbed his hand over his
+bald and shining head. “I told her to talk to you,” he said fretfully.
+
+“Her? Who?” inquired Ford. “Oh, the widow?”
+
+“You were right about that,” said Doctor Sparrow; “she is not a widow.”
+
+The reporter smiled complacently.
+
+“Do you know why I thought not?” he demanded. “Because all the time she
+was at luncheon she kept turning over her wedding-ring as though she was
+not used to it. It was a new ring, too. I told you then she was not a
+widow.”
+
+“Do you always notice things like that?” asked the doctor.
+
+“Not on purpose,” said the amateur detective; “I can’t help it. I see
+ten things where other people see only one; just as some men run ten
+times as fast as other men. We have tried it out often at the office;
+put all sorts of junk under a newspaper, lifted the newspaper for five
+seconds, and then each man wrote down what he had seen. Out of twenty
+things I would remember seventeen. The next best guess would be about
+nine. Once I saw a man lift his coat collar to hide his face. It was in
+the Grand Central Station. I stopped him, and told him he was wanted.
+Turned out he WAS wanted. It was Goldberg, making his getaway to
+Canada.”
+
+“It is a gift,” said the doctor.
+
+“No, it’s a nuisance,” laughed the reporter. “I see so many things I
+don’t want to see. I see that people are wearing clothes that are not
+made for them. I see when women are lying to me. I can see when men are
+on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and whether it is drink or debt or
+morphine--”
+
+The doctor snorted triumphantly.
+
+“You did not see that the widow was on the verge of a breakdown!”
+
+“No,” returned the reporter. “Is she? I’m sorry.”
+
+“If you’re sorry,” urged the doctor eagerly, “you’ll help her. She is
+going to London alone to find her husband. He has disappeared. She
+thinks that he has been murdered, or that he is lying ill in some
+hospital. I told her if any one could help her to find him you could. I
+had to say something. She’s very ill.”
+
+“To find her husband in London?” repeated Ford. “London is a large
+town.”
+
+“She has photographs of him and she knows where he spends his time,”
+ pleaded the doctor. “He is a company promoter. It should be easy for
+you.”
+
+“Maybe he doesn’t want her to find him,” said Ford. “Then it wouldn’t be
+so easy for me.”
+
+The old doctor sighed heavily. “I know,” he murmured. “I thought of
+that, too. And she is so very pretty.”
+
+“That was another thing I noticed,” said Ford.
+
+The doctor gave no heed.
+
+“She must stop worrying,” he exclaimed, “or she will have a mental
+collapse. I have tried sedatives, but they don’t touch her. I want to
+give her courage. She is frightened. She’s left a baby boy at home, and
+she’s fearful that something will happen to him, and she’s frightened
+at being at sea, frightened at being alone in London; it’s pitiful.” The
+old man shook his head. “Pitiful! Will you talk to her now?” he asked.
+
+“Nonsense!” exclaimed Ford. “She doesn’t want to tell the story of her
+life to strange young men.”
+
+“But it was she suggested it,” cried the doctor. “She asked me if you
+were Austin Ford, the great detective.”
+
+Ford snorted scornfully. “She did not!” he protested. His tone was that
+of a man who hopes to be contradicted.
+
+“But she did,” insisted the doctor, “and I told her your specialty was
+tracing persons. Her face lightened at once; it gave her hope. She will
+listen to you. Speak very gently and kindly and confidently. Say you are
+sure you can find him.”
+
+“Where is the lady now?” asked Ford.
+
+Doctor Sparrow scrambled eagerly to his feet. “She cannot leave her
+cabin,” he answered.
+
+The widow, as Ford and Doctor Sparrow still thought of her, was lying on
+the sofa that ran the length of the state-room, parallel with the lower
+berth. She was fully dressed, except that instead of her bodice she wore
+a kimono that left her throat and arms bare. She had been sleeping,
+and when their entrance awoke her, her blue eyes regarded them
+uncomprehendingly. Ford, hidden from her by the doctor, observed that
+not only was she very pretty, but that she was absurdly young, and
+that the drowsy smile she turned upon the old man before she noted the
+presence of Ford was as innocent as that of a baby. Her cheeks were
+flushed, her eyes brilliant, her yellow curls had become loosened and
+were spread upon the pillow. When she saw Ford she caught the kimono so
+closely around her throat that she choked. Had the doctor not pushed her
+down she would have stood.
+
+“I thought,” she stammered, “he was an OLD man.”
+
+The doctor, misunderstanding, hastened to reassure her. “Mr. Ford is old
+in experience,” he said soothingly. “He has had remarkable success.
+Why, he found a criminal once just because the man wore a collar. And
+he found Walsh, the burglar, and Phillips, the forger, and a gang of
+counterfeiters--”
+
+Mrs. Ashton turned upon him, her eyes wide with wonder. “But MY
+husband,” she protested, “is not a criminal!”
+
+“My dear lady!” the doctor cried. “I did not mean that, of course not. I
+meant, if Mr. Ford can find men who don’t wish to be found, how easy for
+him to find a man who--” He turned helplessly to Ford. “You tell her,”
+ he begged.
+
+Ford sat down on a steamer trunk that protruded from beneath the berth,
+and, turning to the widow, gave her the full benefit of his working
+smile. It was confiding, helpless, appealing. It showed a trustfulness
+in the person to whom it was addressed that caused that individual to
+believe Ford needed protection from a wicked world.
+
+“Doctor Sparrow tells me,” began Ford timidly, “you have lost your
+husband’s address; that you will let me try to find him. If I can help
+in any way I should be glad.”
+
+The young girl regarded him, apparently, with disappointment. It was
+as though Doctor Sparrow had led her to expect a man full of years
+and authority, a man upon whom she could lean; not a youth whose smile
+seemed to beg one not to scold him. She gave Ford three photographs,
+bound together with a string.
+
+“When Doctor Sparrow told me you could help me I got out these,” she
+said.
+
+Ford jotted down a mental note to the effect that she “got them out.”
+ That is, she did not keep them where she could always look at them. That
+she was not used to look at them was evident by the fact that they were
+bound together.
+
+The first photograph showed three men standing in an open place and
+leaning on a railing. One of them was smiling toward the photographer.
+He was a good-looking young man of about thirty years of age, well fed,
+well dressed, and apparently well satisfied with the world and himself.
+Ford’s own smile had disappeared. His eyes were alert and interested.
+
+“The one with the Panama hat pulled down over his eyes is your husband?”
+ he asked.
+
+“Yes,” assented the widow. Her tone showed slight surprise.
+
+“This was taken about a year ago?” inquired Ford. “Must have been,” he
+answered himself; “they haven’t raced at the Bay since then. This was
+taken in front of the club stand--probably for the Telegraph?” He lifted
+his eyes inquiringly.
+
+Rising on her elbow the young wife bent forward toward the photograph.
+“Does it say that there,” she asked doubtfully. “How did you guess
+that?”
+
+In his role as chorus the ship’s doctor exclaimed with enthusiasm:
+“Didn’t I tell you? He’s wonderful.”
+
+Ford cut him off impatiently. “You never saw a rail as high as
+that except around a racetrack,” he muttered. “And the badge in his
+buttonhole and the angle of the stand all show--”
+
+He interrupted himself to address the widow. “This is an owner’s badge.
+What was the name of his stable?”
+
+“I don’t know,” she answered. She regarded the young man with sudden
+uneasiness. “They only owned one horse, but I believe that gave them the
+privilege of--”
+
+“I see,” exclaimed Ford. “Your husband is a bookmaker. But in London he
+is a promoter of companies.”
+
+“So my friend tells me,” said Mrs. Ashton. “She’s just got back from
+London. Her husband told her that Harry, my husband, was always at the
+American bar in the Cecil or at the Salisbury or the Savoy.” The girl
+shook her head. “But a woman can’t go looking for a man there,” she
+protested. “That’s why I thought you--”
+
+“That’ll be all right,” Ford assured her hurriedly. “It’s a coincidence,
+but it happens that my own work takes me to these hotels, and if your
+husband is there I will find him.” He returned the photographs.
+
+“Hadn’t you better keep one?” she asked.
+
+“I won’t forget him,” said the reporter. “Besides”--he turned his eyes
+toward the doctor and, as though thinking aloud, said--“he may have
+grown a beard.”
+
+There was a pause.
+
+The eyes of the woman grew troubled. Her lips pressed together as though
+in a sudden access of pain.
+
+“And he may,” Ford continued, “have changed his name.”
+
+As though fearful, if she spoke, the tears would fall, the girl nodded
+her head stiffly.
+
+Having learned what he wanted to know Ford applied to the wound a
+soothing ointment of promises and encouragement.
+
+“He’s as good as found,” he protested. “You will see him in a day, two
+days after you land.”
+
+The girl’s eyes opened happily. She clasped her hands together and
+raised them.
+
+“You will try?” she begged. “You will find him for me”--she corrected
+herself eagerly--“for me and the baby?”
+
+The loose sleeves of the kimono fell back to her shoulders showing the
+white arms; the eyes raised to Ford were glistening with tears.
+
+“Of course I will find him,” growled the reporter.
+
+He freed himself from the appeal in the eyes of the young mother
+and left the cabin. The doctor followed. He was bubbling over with
+enthusiasm.
+
+“That was fine!” he cried. “You said just the right thing. There will be
+no collapse now.”
+
+His satisfaction was swept away in a burst of disgust.
+
+“The blackguard!” he protested. “To desert a wife as young as that and
+as pretty as that.”
+
+“So I have been thinking,” said the reporter. “I guess,” he added
+gravely, “what is going to happen is that before I find her husband I
+will have got to know him pretty well.”
+
+Apparently, young Mrs. Ashton believed everything would come to pass
+just as Ford promised it would and as he chose to order it; for the next
+day, with a color not born of fever in her cheeks and courage in
+her eyes, she joined Ford and the doctor at the luncheon-table. Her
+attention was concentrated on the younger man. In him she saw the one
+person who could bring her husband to her.
+
+“She acts,” growled the doctor later in the smoking-room, “as though
+she was afraid you were going to back out of your promise and jump
+overboard.”
+
+“Don’t think,” he protested violently, “it’s you she’s interested in.
+All she sees in you is what you can do for her. Can you see that?”
+
+“Any one as clever at seeing things as I am,” returned the reporter,
+“cannot help but see that.”
+
+Later, as Ford was walking on the upper deck, Mrs. Ashton came toward
+him, beating her way against the wind. Without a trace of coquetry or
+self-consciousness, and with a sigh of content, she laid her hand on his
+arm.
+
+“When I don’t see you,” she exclaimed as simply as a child, “I feel so
+frightened. When I see you I know all will come right. Do you mind if I
+walk with you?” she asked. “And do you mind if every now and then I ask
+you to tell me again it will all come right?”
+
+For the three days following Mrs. Ashton and Ford were constantly
+together. Or, at least, Mrs. Ashton was constantly with Ford. She told
+him that when she sat in her cabin the old fears returned to her, and in
+these moments of panic she searched the ship for him.
+
+The doctor protested that he was growing jealous.
+
+“I’m not so greatly to be envied,” suggested Ford. “‘Harry’ at
+meals three times a day and on deck all the rest of the day becomes
+monotonous. On a closer acquaintance with Harry he seems to be a decent
+sort of a young man; at least he seems to have been at one time very
+much in love with her.”
+
+“Well,” sighed the doctor sentimentally, “she is certainly very much in
+love with Harry.”
+
+Ford shook his head non-committingly. “I don’t know her story,” he said.
+“Don’t want to know it.”
+
+The ship was in the channel, on her way to Cherbourg, and running as
+smoothly as a clock. From the shore friendly lights told them they were
+nearing their journey’s end; that the land was on every side. Seated
+on a steamer-chair next to his in the semi-darkness of the deck, Mrs.
+Ashton began to talk nervously and eagerly.
+
+“Now that we are so near,” she murmured, “I have got to tell you
+something. If you did not know I would feel I had not been fair. You
+might think that when you were doing so much for me I should have been
+more honest.”
+
+She drew a long breath. “It’s so hard,” she said.
+
+“Wait,” commanded Ford. “Is it going to help me to find him?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then don’t tell me.”
+
+His tone caused the girl to start. She leaned toward him and peered
+into his face. His eyes, as he looked back to her, were kind and
+comprehending.
+
+“You mean,” said the amateur detective, “that your husband has deserted
+you. That if it were not for the baby you would not try to find him. Is
+that it?”
+
+Mrs. Ashton breathed quickly and turned her face away.
+
+“Yes,” she whispered. “That is it.”
+
+There was a long pause. When she faced him again the fact that there was
+no longer a secret between them seemed to give her courage.
+
+“Maybe,” she said, “you can understand. Maybe you can tell me what it
+means. I have thought and thought. I have gone over it and over it until
+when I go back to it my head aches. I have done nothing else but think,
+and I can’t make it seem better. I can’t find any excuse. I have had no
+one to talk to, no one I could tell. I have thought maybe a man could
+understand.” She raised her eyes appealingly.
+
+“If you can only make it seem less cruel. Don’t you see,” she cried
+miserably, “I want to believe; I want to forgive him. I want to think he
+loves me. Oh! I want so to be able to love him; but how can I? I can’t!
+I can’t!”
+
+In the week in which they had been thrown together the girl
+unconsciously had told Ford much about herself and her husband. What she
+now told him was but an amplification of what he had guessed.
+
+She had met Ashton a year and a half before, when she had just left
+school at the convent and had returned to live with her family. Her home
+was at Far Rockaway. Her father was a cashier in a bank at Long Island
+City. One night, with a party of friends, she had been taken to a dance
+at one of the beach hotels, and there met Ashton. At that time he was
+one of a firm that was making book at the Aqueduct race-track. The girl
+had met very few men and with them was shy and frightened, but with
+Ashton she found herself at once at ease. That night he drove her and
+her friends home in his touring-car and the next day they teased her
+about her conquest. It made her very happy. After that she went to hops
+at the hotel, and as the bookmaker did not dance, the two young people
+sat upon the piazza. Then Ashton came to see her at her own house, but
+when her father learned that the young man who had been calling upon her
+was a bookmaker he told him he could not associate with his daughter.
+
+But the girl was now deeply in love with Ashton, and apparently he with
+her. He begged her to marry him. They knew that to this, partly from
+prejudice and partly owing to his position in the bank, her father would
+object. Accordingly they agreed that in August, when the racing moved to
+Saratoga, they would run away and get married at that place. Their plan
+was that Ashton would leave for Saratoga with the other racing men, and
+that she would join him the next day.
+
+They had arranged to be married by a magistrate, and Ashton had shown
+her a letter from one at Saratoga who consented to perform the ceremony.
+He had given her an engagement ring and two thousand dollars, which he
+asked her to keep for him, lest tempted at the track he should lose it.
+
+But she assured Ford it was not such material things as a letter, a
+ring, or gift of money that had led her to trust Ashton. His fear of
+losing her, his complete subjection to her wishes, his happiness in her
+presence, all seemed to prove that to make her happy was his one wish,
+and that he could do anything to make her unhappy appeared impossible.
+
+They were married the morning she arrived at Saratoga; and the same day
+departed for Niagara Falls and Quebec. The honeymoon lasted ten days.
+They were ten days of complete happiness. No one, so the girl declared,
+could have been more kind, more unselfishly considerate than her
+husband. They returned to Saratoga and engaged a suite of rooms at one
+of the big hotels. Ashton was not satisfied with the rooms shown him,
+and leaving her upstairs returned to the office floor to ask for others.
+
+Since that moment his wife had never seen him nor heard from him.
+
+On the day of her marriage young Mrs. Ashton had written to her father,
+asking him to give her his good wishes and pardon. He refused both. As
+she had feared, he did not consider that for a bank clerk a gambler made
+a desirable son-in-law; and the letters he wrote his daughter were
+so bitter that in reply she informed him he had forced her to choose
+between her family and her husband, and that she chose her husband.
+In consequence, when she found herself deserted she felt she could not
+return to her people. She remained in Saratoga. There she moved into
+cheap lodgings, and in order that the two thousand dollars Ashton
+had left with her might be saved for his child, she had learned to
+type-write, and after four months had been able to support herself.
+Within the last month a girl friend, who had known both Ashton and
+herself before they were married, had written her that her husband was
+living in London. For the sake of her son she had at once determined to
+make an effort to seek him out.
+
+“The son, nonsense!” exclaimed the doctor, when Ford retold the story.
+“She is not crossing the ocean because she is worried about the future
+of her son. She seeks her own happiness. The woman is in love with her
+husband.”
+
+Ford shook his head.
+
+“I don’t know!” he objected. “She’s so extravagant in her praise of
+Harry that it seems unreal. It sounds insincere. Then, again, when I
+swear I will find him she shows a delight that you might describe as
+savage, almost vindictive. As though, if I did find Harry, the first
+thing she would do would be to stick a knife in him.”
+
+“Maybe,” volunteered the doctor sadly, “she has heard there is a woman
+in the case. Maybe she is the one she’s thinking of sticking the knife
+into?”
+
+“Well,” declared the reporter, “if she doesn’t stop looking savage every
+time I promise to find Harry I won’t find Harry. Why should I act the
+part of Fate, anyway? How do I know that Harry hasn’t got a wife in
+London and several in the States? How do we know he didn’t leave his
+country for his country’s good? That’s what it looks like to me. How can
+we tell what confronted him the day he went down to the hotel desk to
+change his rooms and, instead, got into his touring-car and beat the
+speed limit to Canada. Whom did he meet in the hotel corridor? A woman
+with a perfectly good marriage certificate, or a detective with a
+perfectly good warrant? Or did Harry find out that his bride had a devil
+of a temper of her own, and that for him marriage was a failure? The
+widow is certainly a very charming young woman, but there may be two
+sides to this.”
+
+“You are a cynic, sir,” protested the doctor.
+
+“That may be,” growled the reporter, “but I am not a private detective
+agency, or a matrimonial bureau, and before I hear myself saying, ‘Bless
+you, my children!’ both of these young people will have to show me why
+they should not be kept asunder.”
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+On the afternoon of their arrival in London Ford convoyed Mrs. Ashton to
+an old-established private hotel in Craven Street.
+
+“Here,” he explained, “you will be within a few hundred yards of the
+place in which your husband is said to spend his time. I will be living
+in the same hotel. If I find him you will know it in ten minutes.”
+
+The widow gave a little gasp, whether of excitement or of happiness Ford
+could not determine.
+
+“Whatever happens,” she begged, “will you let me hear from you
+sometimes? You are the only person I know in London--and--it’s so big it
+frightens me. I don’t want to be a burden,” she went on eagerly, “but if
+I can feel you are within call--”
+
+“What you need,” said Ford heartily, “is less of the doctor’s nerve
+tonic and sleeping draughts, and a little innocent diversion. To-night I
+am going to take you to the Savoy to supper.”
+
+Mrs. Ashton exclaimed delightedly, and then was filled with misgivings.
+
+“I have nothing to wear,” she protested, “and over here, in the evening,
+the women dress so well. I have a dinner gown,” she exclaimed, “but it’s
+black. Would that do?”
+
+Ford assured her nothing could be better. He had a man’s vanity in
+liking a woman with whom he was seen in public to be pretty and smartly
+dressed, and he felt sure that in black the blond beauty of Mrs. Ashton
+would appear to advantage. They arranged to meet at eleven on the
+promenade leading to the Savoy supper-room, and parted with mutual
+satisfaction at the prospect.
+
+
+The finding of Harry Ashton was so simple that in its very simplicity it
+appeared spectacular.
+
+On leaving Mrs. Ashton, Ford engaged rooms at the Hotel Cecil. Before
+visiting his rooms he made his way to the American bar. He did not go
+there seeking Harry Ashton. His object was entirely self-centred. His
+purpose was to drink to himself and to the lights of London. But as
+though by appointment, the man he had promised to find was waiting for
+him. As Ford entered the room, at a table facing the door sat Ashton.
+There was no mistaking him. He wore a mustache, but it was no disguise.
+He was the same good-natured, good-looking youth who, in the photograph
+from under a Panama hat, had smiled upon the world. With a glad cry Ford
+rushed toward him.
+
+“Fancy meeting YOU!” he exclaimed.
+
+Mr. Ashton’s good-natured smile did not relax. He merely shook his head.
+
+“Afraid you have made a mistake,” he said. The reporter regarded him
+blankly. His face showed his disappointment.
+
+“Aren’t you Charles W. Garrett, of New York?” he demanded.
+
+“Not me,” said Mr. Ashton.
+
+“But,” Ford insisted in hurt tones, as though he were being trifled
+with, “you have been told you look like him, haven’t you?”
+
+Mr. Ashton’s good nature was unassailable.
+
+“Sorry,” he declared, “never heard of him.”
+
+Ford became garrulous, he could not believe two men could look so much
+alike. It was a remarkable coincidence. The stranger must certainly
+have a drink, the drink intended for his twin. Ashton was bored, but
+accepted. He was well acquainted with the easy good-fellowship of his
+countrymen. The room in which he sat was a meeting-place for them. He
+considered that they were always giving each other drinks, and not only
+were they always introducing themselves, but saying, “Shake hands with
+my friend, Mr. So-and-So.” After five minutes they showed each other
+photographs of the children. This one, though as loquacious as the
+others, seemed better dressed, more “wise”; he brought to the exile the
+atmosphere of his beloved Broadway, so Ashton drank to him pleasantly.
+
+“My name is Sydney Carter,” he volunteered.
+
+As a poker-player skims over the cards in his hand, Ford, in his mind’s
+eye, ran over the value of giving or not giving his right name. He
+decided that Ashton would not have heard it and that, if he gave a false
+one, there was a chance that later Ashton might find out that he had
+done so. Accordingly he said, “Mine is Austin Ford,” and seated himself
+at Ashton’s table. Within ten minutes the man he had promised to
+pluck from among the eight million inhabitants of London was smiling
+sympathetically at his jests and buying a drink.
+
+On the steamer Ford had rehearsed the story with which, should he meet
+Ashton, he would introduce himself. It was one arranged to fit with his
+theory that Ashton was a crook. If Ashton were a crook Ford argued
+that to at once ingratiate himself in his good graces he also must be
+a crook. His plan was to invite Ashton to co-operate with him in some
+scheme that was openly dishonest. By so doing he hoped apparently to
+place himself at Ashton’s mercy. He believed if he could persuade Ashton
+he was more of a rascal than Ashton himself, and an exceedingly
+stupid rascal, any distrust the bookmaker might feel toward him would
+disappear. He made his advances so openly, and apparently showed his
+hand so carelessly, that, from being bored, Ashton became puzzled,
+then interested; and when Ford insisted he should dine with him, he
+considered it so necessary to find out who the youth might be who was
+forcing himself upon him that he accepted the invitation.
+
+They adjourned to dress and an hour later, at Ford’s suggestion, they
+met at the Carlton. There Ford ordered a dinner calculated to lull his
+newly made friend into a mood suited to confidence, but which had on
+Ashton exactly the opposite effect. Merely for the pleasure of his
+company, utter strangers were not in the habit of treating him to
+strawberries in February, and vintage champagne; and, in consequence, in
+Ford’s hospitality he saw only cause for suspicion. If, as he had first
+feared, Ford was a New York detective, it was most important he should
+know that. No one better than Ashton understood that, at that moment,
+his presence in New York meant, for the police, unalloyed satisfaction,
+and for himself undisturbed solitude. But Ford was unlike any detective
+of his acquaintance; and his acquaintance had been extensive. It
+was true Ford was familiar with all the habits of Broadway and the
+Tenderloin. Of places with which Ashton was intimate, and of men with
+whom Ashton had formerly been well acquainted, he talked glibly. But, if
+he were a detective, Ashton considered, they certainly had improved the
+class.
+
+The restaurant into which for the first time Ashton had penetrated,
+and in which he felt ill at ease, was to Ford, he observed, a matter
+of course. Evidently for Ford it held no terrors. He criticised the
+service, patronized the head waiters, and grumbled at the food; and
+when, on leaving the restaurant, an Englishman and his wife stopped at
+their table to greet him, he accepted their welcome to London without
+embarrassment.
+
+Ashton, rolling his cigar between his lips, observed the incident with
+increasing bewilderment.
+
+“You’ve got some swell friends,” he growled. “I’ll bet you never met
+THEM at Healey’s!”
+
+“I meet all kinds of people in my business,” said Ford. “I once sold
+that man some mining stock, and the joke of it was,” he added, smiling
+knowingly, “it turned out to be good.”
+
+Ashton decided that the psychological moment had arrived.
+
+“What IS your business?” he asked.
+
+“I’m a company promoter,” said Ford easily. “I thought I told you.”
+
+“I did not tell you that I was a company promoter, too, did I?” demanded
+Ashton.
+
+“No,” answered Ford, with apparent surprise. “Are you? That’s funny.”
+
+Ashton watched for the next move, but the subject seemed in no way to
+interest Ford. Instead of following it up he began afresh.
+
+“Have you any money lying idle?” he asked abruptly. “About a thousand
+pounds.”
+
+Ashton recognized that the mysterious stranger was about to disclose
+both himself and whatever object he had in seeking him out. He cast a
+quick glance about him.
+
+“I can always find money,” he said guardedly. “What’s the proposition?”
+
+With pretended nervousness Ford leaned forward and began the story
+he had rehearsed. It was a new version of an old swindle and to every
+self-respecting confidence man was well known as the “sick engineer”
+ game. The plot is very simple. The sick engineer is supposed to be a
+mining engineer who, as an expert, has examined a gold mine and reported
+against it. For his services the company paid him partly in stock. He
+falls ill and is at the point of death. While he has been ill much gold
+has been found in the mine he examined, and the stock which he considers
+worthless is now valuable. Of this, owing to his illness, he is
+ignorant. One confidence man acts the part of the sick engineer, and the
+other that of a broker who knows the engineer possesses the stock but
+has no money with which to purchase it from him. For a share of the
+stock he offers to tell the dupe where it and the engineer can be found.
+They visit the man, apparently at the point of death, and the dupe gives
+him money for his stock. Later the dupe finds the stock is worthless,
+and the supposed engineer and the supposed broker divide the money he
+paid for it. In telling the story Ford pretended he was the broker and
+that he thought in Ashton he had found a dupe who would buy the stock
+from the sick engineer.
+
+As the story unfolded and Ashton appreciated the part Ford expected
+him to play in it, his emotions were so varied that he was in danger
+of apoplexy. Amusement, joy, chagrin, and indignation illuminated his
+countenance. His cigar ceased to burn, and with his eyes opened wide he
+regarded Ford in pitying wonder.
+
+“Wait!” he commanded. He shook his head uncomprehendingly. “Tell me,” he
+asked, “do I look as easy as that, or are you just naturally foolish?”
+
+Ford pretended to fall into a state of great alarm.
+
+“I don’t understand,” he stammered.
+
+“Why, son,” exclaimed Ashton kindly, “I was taught that story in the
+public schools. I invented it. I stopped using it before you cut
+your teeth. Gee!” he exclaimed delightedly. “I knew I had
+grown respectable-looking, but I didn’t think I was so damned
+respectable-looking as that!” He began to laugh silently; so greatly was
+he amused that the tears shone in his eyes and his shoulders shook.
+
+“I’m sorry for you, son,” he protested, “but that’s the funniest thing
+that’s come my way in two years. And you buying me hot-house grapes,
+too, and fancy water! I wish you could see your face,” he taunted.
+
+Ford pretended to be greatly chagrined.
+
+“All right,” he declared roughly. “The laugh’s on me this time, but just
+because I lost one trick, don’t think I don’t know my business. Now that
+I’m wise to what YOU are we can work together and--”
+
+The face of young Mr. Ashton became instantly grave. His jaws
+snapped like a trap. When he spoke his tone was assured and slightly
+contemptuous.
+
+“Not with ME you can’t work!” he said.
+
+“Don’t think because I fell down on this,” Ford began hotly.
+
+“I’m not thinking of you at all,” said Ashton. “You’re a nice little
+fellow all right, but you have sized me up wrong. I am on the ‘straight
+and narrow’ that leads back to little old New York and God’s country,
+and I am warranted not to run off my trolley.”
+
+The words were in the vernacular, but the tone in which the young man
+spoke rang so confidently that it brought to Ford a pleasant thrill
+of satisfaction. From the first he had found in the personality of the
+young man something winning and likable; a shrewd manliness and tolerant
+good-humor. His eyes may have shown his sympathy, for, in sudden
+confidence, Ashton leaned nearer.
+
+“It’s like this,” he said. “Several years ago I made a bad break and,
+about a year later, they got on to me and I had to cut and run. In a
+month the law of limitation lets me loose and I can go back. And you can
+bet I’m GOING back. I will be on the bowsprit of the first boat. I’ve
+had all I want of the ‘fugitive-from-justice’ game, thank you, and I
+have taken good care to keep a clean bill of health so that I won’t
+have to play it again. They’ve been trying to get me for several
+years--especially the Pinkertons. They have chased me all over Europe.
+Chased me with all kinds of men; sometimes with women; they’ve tried
+everything except blood-hounds. At first I thought YOU were a ‘Pink,’
+that’s why--”
+
+“I!” interrupted Ford, exploding derisively. “That’s GOOD! That’s one
+on YOU.” He ceased laughing and regarded Ashton kindly. “How do you know
+I’m not?” he asked.
+
+For an instant the face of the bookmaker grew a shade less red and
+his eyes searched those of Ford in a quick agony of suspicion. Ford
+continued to smile steadily at him, and Ashton breathed with relief.
+
+“I’ll take a chance with you,” he said, “and if you are as bad a
+detective as you are a sport I needn’t worry.”
+
+They both laughed, and, with sudden mutual liking, each raised his glass
+and nodded.
+
+“But they haven’t got me yet,” continued Ashton, “and unless they get
+me in the next thirty days I’m free. So you needn’t think that I’ll help
+you. It’s ‘never again’ for me. The first time, that was the fault of
+the crowd I ran with; the second time, that would be MY fault. And there
+ain’t going to be any second time.”
+
+He shook his head doggedly, and with squared shoulders leaned back in
+his chair.
+
+“If it only breaks right for me,” he declared, “I’ll settle down in one
+of those ‘Own-your own-homes,’ forty-five minutes from Broadway, and
+never leave the wife and the baby.”
+
+The words almost brought Ford to his feet. He had forgotten the wife and
+the baby. He endeavored to explain his surprise by a sudden assumption
+of incredulity.
+
+“Fancy you married!” he exclaimed.
+
+“Married!” protested Ashton. “I’m married to the finest little lady
+that ever wore skirts, and in thirty-seven days I’ll see her again.
+Thirty-seven days,” he repeated impatiently. “Gee! That’s a hell of a
+long time!”
+
+Ford studied the young man with increased interest. That he was speaking
+sincerely, from the heart, there seemed no possible doubt.
+
+Ashton frowned and his face clouded. “I’ve not been able to treat her
+just right,” he volunteered. “If she wrote me, the letters might give
+them a clew, and I don’t write HER because I don’t want her to know
+all my troubles until they’re over. But I know,” he added, “that five
+minutes’ talk will set it all right. That is, if she still feels about
+me the way I feel about her.”
+
+The man crushed his cigar in his fingers and threw the pieces on the
+floor. “That’s what’s been the worst!” he exclaimed bitterly. “Not
+hearing, not knowing. It’s been hell!”
+
+His eyes as he raised them were filled with suffering, deep and genuine.
+
+Ford rose suddenly. “Let’s go down to the Savoy for supper,” he said.
+
+“Supper!” growled Ashton. “What’s the use of supper? Do you suppose cold
+chicken and a sardine can keep me from THINKING?”
+
+Ford placed his hand on the other’s shoulder.
+
+“You come with me,” he said kindly. “I’m going to do you a favor. I’m
+going to bring you a piece of luck. Don’t ask me any questions,” he
+commanded hurriedly. “Just take my word for it.”
+
+They had sat so late over their cigars that when they reached the
+restaurant on the Embankment the supper-room was already partly
+filled, and the corridors and lounge were brilliantly lit and gay with
+well-dressed women. Ashton regarded the scene with gloomy eyes. Since
+he had spoken of his wife he had remained silent, chewing savagely on a
+fresh cigar. But Ford was grandly excited. He did not know exactly what
+he intended to do. He was prepared to let events direct themselves, but
+of two things he was assured: Mrs. Ashton loved her husband, and her
+husband loved her. As the god in the car who was to bring them together,
+he felt a delightful responsibility.
+
+The young men left the coat-room and came down the short flight of
+steps that leads to the wide lounge of the restaurant. Ford slightly in
+advance, searching with his eyes for Mrs Ashton, found her seated alone
+in the lounge, evidently waiting for him. At the first glance she was
+hardly be recognized. Her low-cut dinner gown of black satin that clung
+to her like a wet bath robe was the last word of the new fashion; and
+since Ford had seen her her blond hair had been arranged by an artist.
+Her appearance was smart, elegant, daring. She was easily the prettiest
+and most striking-looking woman in the room, and for an instant Ford
+stood gazing at her, trying to find in the self-possessed young woman
+the deserted wife of the steamer. She did not see Ford. Her eyes were
+following the progress down the hall of a woman, and her profile was
+toward him.
+
+The thought of the happiness he was about to bring to two young people
+gave Ford the sense of a genuine triumph, and when he turned to
+Ashton to point out his wife to him he was thrilling with pride and
+satisfaction. His triumph received a bewildering shock. Already Ashton
+had discovered the presence of Mrs. Ashton. He was standing transfixed,
+lost to his surroundings, devouring her with his eyes. And then, to the
+amazement of Ford, his eyes filled with fear, doubt, and anger. Swiftly,
+with the movement of a man ducking a blow, he turned and sprang up the
+stairs and into the coat-room. Ford, bewildered and more conscious of
+his surroundings, followed him less quickly, and was in consequence only
+in time to see Ashton, dragging his overcoat behind him, disappear into
+the court-yard. He seized his own coat and raced in pursuit. As he ran
+into the court-yard Ashton, in the Strand, was just closing the door of
+a taxicab, but before the chauffeur could free it from the surrounding
+traffic, Ford had dragged the door open, and leaped inside. Ashton was
+huddled in the corner, panting, his face pale with alarm.
+
+“What the devil ails you?” roared Ford. “Are you trying to shake me?
+You’ve got to come back. You must speak to her.”
+
+“Speak to her!” repeated Ashton. His voice was sunk to a whisper. The
+look of alarm in his face was confused with one grim and menacing. “Did
+you know she was there?” he demanded softly. “Did you take me there,
+knowing--?”
+
+“Of course I knew,” protested Ford. “She’s been looking for you--”
+
+His voice subsided in a squeak of amazement and pain. Ashton’s left hand
+had shot out and swiftly seized his throat. With the other he pressed an
+automatic revolver against Ford’s shirt front.
+
+“I know she’s been looking for me,” the man whispered thickly. “For two
+years she’s been looking for me. I know all about HER! But, WHO IN HELL
+ARE YOU?”
+
+Ford, gasping and gurgling, protested loyally.
+
+“You are wrong!” he cried. “She’s been at home waiting for you. She
+thinks you have deserted her and your baby. I tell you she loves you,
+you fool, she LOVES you!”
+
+The fingers on his throat suddenly relaxed; the flaming eyes of Ashton,
+glaring into his, wavered and grew wide with amazement.
+
+“Loves me,” he whispered. “WHO loves me?”
+
+“Your wife,” protested Ford; “the girl at the Savoy, your wife.”
+
+Again the fingers of Ashton pressed deep around his neck.
+
+“That is not my wife,” he whispered. His voice was unpleasantly cold and
+grim. “That’s ‘Baby Belle,’ with her hair dyed, a detective lady of the
+Pinkertons, hired to find me. And YOU know it. Now, who are YOU?”
+
+To permit him to reply Ashton released his hand, but at the same moment,
+in a sudden access of fear, dug the revolver deeper into the pit of
+Ford’s stomach.
+
+“Quick!” he commanded. “Never mind the girl. WHO ARE YOU?”
+
+Ford collapsed against the cushioned corner of the cab. “And she begged
+me to find you,” he roared, “because she LOVED you, because she wanted
+to BELIEVE in you!” He held his arms above his head. “Go ahead and
+shoot!” he cried. “You want to know who I am?” he demanded. His voice
+rang with rage. “I’m an amateur. Just a natural born fool-amateur! Go on
+and shoot!”
+
+The gun in Ashton’s hand sank to his knee. Between doubt and laughter
+his face was twisted in strange lines. The cab was whirling through a
+narrow, unlit street leading to Covent Garden. Opening the door Ashton
+called to the chauffeur, and then turned to Ford.
+
+“You get off here!” he commanded. “Maybe you’re a ‘Pink,’ maybe you’re
+a good fellow. I think you’re a good fellow, but I’m not taking any
+chances. Get out!”
+
+Ford scrambled to the street, and as the taxicab again butted itself
+forward, Ashton leaned far through the window. “Good-by, son,” he
+called. “Send me a picture-postal card to Paris. For I am off to
+Maxim’s,” he cried, “and you can go to--”
+
+“Not at all!” shouted the amateur detective indignantly. “I’m going back
+to take supper with ‘Baby Belle’!”
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur, by Richard Harding Davis
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+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      The Amateur, by Richard Harding Davis
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
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+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
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+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur, by Richard Harding Davis
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Amateur
+
+Author: Richard Harding Davis
+
+Release Date: May 12, 2006 [EBook #1822]
+Last Updated: September 26, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMATEUR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Don Lainson; David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE AMATEUR
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Richard Harding Davis
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      Contents
+    </h2>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      I
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was February off the Banks, and so thick was the weather that, on the
+      upper decks, one could have driven a sleigh. Inside the smoking-room
+      Austin Ford, as securely sheltered from the blizzard as though he had been
+      sitting in front of a wood fire at his club, ordered hot gin for himself
+      and the ship&rsquo;s doctor. The ship&rsquo;s doctor had gone below on another &ldquo;hurry
+      call&rdquo; from the widow. At the first luncheon on board the widow had sat on
+      the right of Doctor Sparrow, with Austin Ford facing her. But since then,
+      except to the doctor, she had been invisible. So, at frequent intervals,
+      the ill health of the widow had deprived Ford of the society of the
+      doctor. That it deprived him, also, of the society of the widow did not
+      concern him. HER life had not been spent upon ocean liners; she could not
+      remember when state-rooms were named after the States of the Union. She
+      could not tell him of shipwrecks and salvage, of smugglers and of the
+      modern pirates who found their victims in the smoking-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford was on his way to England to act as the London correspondent of the
+      New York Republic. For three years on that most sensational of the New
+      York dailies he had been the star man, the chief muckraker, the chief
+      sleuth. His interest was in crime. Not in crimes committed in passion or
+      inspired by drink, but in such offences against law and society as are
+      perpetrated with nice intelligence. The murderer, the burglar, the
+      strong-arm men who, in side streets, waylay respectable citizens did not
+      appeal to him. The man he studied, pursued, and exposed was the cashier
+      who evolved a new method of covering up his peculations, the dishonest
+      president of an insurance company, the confidence man who used no
+      concealed weapon other than his wit. Toward the criminals he pursued young
+      Ford felt no personal animosity. He harassed them as he would have shot a
+      hawk killing chickens. Not because he disliked the hawk, but because the
+      battle was unequal, and because he felt sorry for the chickens.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had you called Austin Ford an amateur detective he would have been greatly
+      annoyed. He argued that his position was similar to that of the dramatic
+      critic. The dramatic critic warned the public against bad plays; Ford
+      warned it against bad men. Having done that, he left it to the public to
+      determine whether the bad man should thrive or perish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the managing editor told him of his appointment to London, Ford had
+      protested that his work lay in New York; that of London and the English,
+      except as a tourist and sight-seer, he knew nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s just why we are sending you,&rdquo; explained the managing editor. &ldquo;Our
+      readers are ignorant. To make them read about London you&rsquo;ve got to tell
+      them about themselves in London. They like to know who&rsquo;s been presented at
+      court, about the American girls who have married dukes; and which ones
+      opened a bazaar, and which one opened a hat shop, and which is getting a
+      divorce. Don&rsquo;t send us anything concerning suffragettes and Dreadnaughts.
+      Just send us stuff about Americans. If you take your meals in the Carlton
+      grill-room and drink at the Cecil you can pick up more good stories than
+      we can print. You will find lots of your friends over there. Some of those
+      girls who married dukes,&rdquo; he suggested, &ldquo;know you, don&rsquo;t they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not since they married dukes,&rdquo; said Ford.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, anyway, all your other friends will be there,&rdquo; continued the
+      managing editor encouragingly. &ldquo;Now that they have shut up the tracks here
+      all the con men have gone to London. They say an American can&rsquo;t take a
+      drink at the Salisbury without his fellow-countrymen having a fight as to
+      which one will sell him a gold brick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford&rsquo;s eyes lightened in pleasurable anticipation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look them over,&rdquo; urged the managing editor, &ldquo;and send us a special. Call
+      it &lsquo;The American Invasion.&rsquo; Don&rsquo;t you see a story in it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be the first one I send you,&rdquo; said Ford. The ship&rsquo;s doctor
+      returned from his visit below decks and sank into the leather cushion
+      close to Ford&rsquo;s elbow. For a few moments the older man sipped doubtfully
+      at his gin and water, and, as though perplexed, rubbed his hand over his
+      bald and shining head. &ldquo;I told her to talk to you,&rdquo; he said fretfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her? Who?&rdquo; inquired Ford. &ldquo;Oh, the widow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were right about that,&rdquo; said Doctor Sparrow; &ldquo;she is not a widow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The reporter smiled complacently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know why I thought not?&rdquo; he demanded. &ldquo;Because all the time she
+      was at luncheon she kept turning over her wedding-ring as though she was
+      not used to it. It was a new ring, too. I told you then she was not a
+      widow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you always notice things like that?&rdquo; asked the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not on purpose,&rdquo; said the amateur detective; &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t help it. I see ten
+      things where other people see only one; just as some men run ten times as
+      fast as other men. We have tried it out often at the office; put all sorts
+      of junk under a newspaper, lifted the newspaper for five seconds, and then
+      each man wrote down what he had seen. Out of twenty things I would
+      remember seventeen. The next best guess would be about nine. Once I saw a
+      man lift his coat collar to hide his face. It was in the Grand Central
+      Station. I stopped him, and told him he was wanted. Turned out he WAS
+      wanted. It was Goldberg, making his getaway to Canada.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a gift,&rdquo; said the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it&rsquo;s a nuisance,&rdquo; laughed the reporter. &ldquo;I see so many things I don&rsquo;t
+      want to see. I see that people are wearing clothes that are not made for
+      them. I see when women are lying to me. I can see when men are on the
+      verge of a nervous breakdown, and whether it is drink or debt or morphine&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor snorted triumphantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did not see that the widow was on the verge of a breakdown!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; returned the reporter. &ldquo;Is she? I&rsquo;m sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you&rsquo;re sorry,&rdquo; urged the doctor eagerly, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ll help her. She is
+      going to London alone to find her husband. He has disappeared. She thinks
+      that he has been murdered, or that he is lying ill in some hospital. I
+      told her if any one could help her to find him you could. I had to say
+      something. She&rsquo;s very ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To find her husband in London?&rdquo; repeated Ford. &ldquo;London is a large town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has photographs of him and she knows where he spends his time,&rdquo;
+       pleaded the doctor. &ldquo;He is a company promoter. It should be easy for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe he doesn&rsquo;t want her to find him,&rdquo; said Ford. &ldquo;Then it wouldn&rsquo;t be
+      so easy for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old doctor sighed heavily. &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; he murmured. &ldquo;I thought of that,
+      too. And she is so very pretty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was another thing I noticed,&rdquo; said Ford.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor gave no heed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She must stop worrying,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;or she will have a mental
+      collapse. I have tried sedatives, but they don&rsquo;t touch her. I want to give
+      her courage. She is frightened. She&rsquo;s left a baby boy at home, and she&rsquo;s
+      fearful that something will happen to him, and she&rsquo;s frightened at being
+      at sea, frightened at being alone in London; it&rsquo;s pitiful.&rdquo; The old man
+      shook his head. &ldquo;Pitiful! Will you talk to her now?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; exclaimed Ford. &ldquo;She doesn&rsquo;t want to tell the story of her
+      life to strange young men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it was she suggested it,&rdquo; cried the doctor. &ldquo;She asked me if you were
+      Austin Ford, the great detective.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford snorted scornfully. &ldquo;She did not!&rdquo; he protested. His tone was that of
+      a man who hopes to be contradicted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she did,&rdquo; insisted the doctor, &ldquo;and I told her your specialty was
+      tracing persons. Her face lightened at once; it gave her hope. She will
+      listen to you. Speak very gently and kindly and confidently. Say you are
+      sure you can find him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is the lady now?&rdquo; asked Ford.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Doctor Sparrow scrambled eagerly to his feet. &ldquo;She cannot leave her
+      cabin,&rdquo; he answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The widow, as Ford and Doctor Sparrow still thought of her, was lying on
+      the sofa that ran the length of the state-room, parallel with the lower
+      berth. She was fully dressed, except that instead of her bodice she wore a
+      kimono that left her throat and arms bare. She had been sleeping, and when
+      their entrance awoke her, her blue eyes regarded them uncomprehendingly.
+      Ford, hidden from her by the doctor, observed that not only was she very
+      pretty, but that she was absurdly young, and that the drowsy smile she
+      turned upon the old man before she noted the presence of Ford was as
+      innocent as that of a baby. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brilliant,
+      her yellow curls had become loosened and were spread upon the pillow. When
+      she saw Ford she caught the kimono so closely around her throat that she
+      choked. Had the doctor not pushed her down she would have stood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; she stammered, &ldquo;he was an OLD man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor, misunderstanding, hastened to reassure her. &ldquo;Mr. Ford is old
+      in experience,&rdquo; he said soothingly. &ldquo;He has had remarkable success. Why,
+      he found a criminal once just because the man wore a collar. And he found
+      Walsh, the burglar, and Phillips, the forger, and a gang of counterfeiters&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ashton turned upon him, her eyes wide with wonder. &ldquo;But MY husband,&rdquo;
+       she protested, &ldquo;is not a criminal!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear lady!&rdquo; the doctor cried. &ldquo;I did not mean that, of course not. I
+      meant, if Mr. Ford can find men who don&rsquo;t wish to be found, how easy for
+      him to find a man who&mdash;&rdquo; He turned helplessly to Ford. &ldquo;You tell
+      her,&rdquo; he begged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford sat down on a steamer trunk that protruded from beneath the berth,
+      and, turning to the widow, gave her the full benefit of his working smile.
+      It was confiding, helpless, appealing. It showed a trustfulness in the
+      person to whom it was addressed that caused that individual to believe
+      Ford needed protection from a wicked world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor Sparrow tells me,&rdquo; began Ford timidly, &ldquo;you have lost your
+      husband&rsquo;s address; that you will let me try to find him. If I can help in
+      any way I should be glad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young girl regarded him, apparently, with disappointment. It was as
+      though Doctor Sparrow had led her to expect a man full of years and
+      authority, a man upon whom she could lean; not a youth whose smile seemed
+      to beg one not to scold him. She gave Ford three photographs, bound
+      together with a string.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When Doctor Sparrow told me you could help me I got out these,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford jotted down a mental note to the effect that she &ldquo;got them out.&rdquo; That
+      is, she did not keep them where she could always look at them. That she
+      was not used to look at them was evident by the fact that they were bound
+      together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first photograph showed three men standing in an open place and
+      leaning on a railing. One of them was smiling toward the photographer. He
+      was a good-looking young man of about thirty years of age, well fed, well
+      dressed, and apparently well satisfied with the world and himself. Ford&rsquo;s
+      own smile had disappeared. His eyes were alert and interested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The one with the Panama hat pulled down over his eyes is your husband?&rdquo;
+       he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; assented the widow. Her tone showed slight surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This was taken about a year ago?&rdquo; inquired Ford. &ldquo;Must have been,&rdquo; he
+      answered himself; &ldquo;they haven&rsquo;t raced at the Bay since then. This was
+      taken in front of the club stand&mdash;probably for the Telegraph?&rdquo; He
+      lifted his eyes inquiringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rising on her elbow the young wife bent forward toward the photograph.
+      &ldquo;Does it say that there,&rdquo; she asked doubtfully. &ldquo;How did you guess that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In his role as chorus the ship&rsquo;s doctor exclaimed with enthusiasm: &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t
+      I tell you? He&rsquo;s wonderful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford cut him off impatiently. &ldquo;You never saw a rail as high as that except
+      around a racetrack,&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;And the badge in his buttonhole and the
+      angle of the stand all show&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He interrupted himself to address the widow. &ldquo;This is an owner&rsquo;s badge.
+      What was the name of his stable?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; she answered. She regarded the young man with sudden
+      uneasiness. &ldquo;They only owned one horse, but I believe that gave them the
+      privilege of&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; exclaimed Ford. &ldquo;Your husband is a bookmaker. But in London he is
+      a promoter of companies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So my friend tells me,&rdquo; said Mrs. Ashton. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s just got back from
+      London. Her husband told her that Harry, my husband, was always at the
+      American bar in the Cecil or at the Salisbury or the Savoy.&rdquo; The girl
+      shook her head. &ldquo;But a woman can&rsquo;t go looking for a man there,&rdquo; she
+      protested. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s why I thought you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;ll be all right,&rdquo; Ford assured her hurriedly. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a coincidence,
+      but it happens that my own work takes me to these hotels, and if your
+      husband is there I will find him.&rdquo; He returned the photographs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hadn&rsquo;t you better keep one?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t forget him,&rdquo; said the reporter. &ldquo;Besides&rdquo;&mdash;he turned his
+      eyes toward the doctor and, as though thinking aloud, said&mdash;&ldquo;he may
+      have grown a beard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The eyes of the woman grew troubled. Her lips pressed together as though
+      in a sudden access of pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he may,&rdquo; Ford continued, &ldquo;have changed his name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As though fearful, if she spoke, the tears would fall, the girl nodded her
+      head stiffly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having learned what he wanted to know Ford applied to the wound a soothing
+      ointment of promises and encouragement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s as good as found,&rdquo; he protested. &ldquo;You will see him in a day, two
+      days after you land.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl&rsquo;s eyes opened happily. She clasped her hands together and raised
+      them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will try?&rdquo; she begged. &ldquo;You will find him for me&rdquo;&mdash;she corrected
+      herself eagerly&mdash;&ldquo;for me and the baby?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The loose sleeves of the kimono fell back to her shoulders showing the
+      white arms; the eyes raised to Ford were glistening with tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I will find him,&rdquo; growled the reporter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He freed himself from the appeal in the eyes of the young mother and left
+      the cabin. The doctor followed. He was bubbling over with enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was fine!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;You said just the right thing. There will be
+      no collapse now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His satisfaction was swept away in a burst of disgust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The blackguard!&rdquo; he protested. &ldquo;To desert a wife as young as that and as
+      pretty as that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I have been thinking,&rdquo; said the reporter. &ldquo;I guess,&rdquo; he added gravely,
+      &ldquo;what is going to happen is that before I find her husband I will have got
+      to know him pretty well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Apparently, young Mrs. Ashton believed everything would come to pass just
+      as Ford promised it would and as he chose to order it; for the next day,
+      with a color not born of fever in her cheeks and courage in her eyes, she
+      joined Ford and the doctor at the luncheon-table. Her attention was
+      concentrated on the younger man. In him she saw the one person who could
+      bring her husband to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She acts,&rdquo; growled the doctor later in the smoking-room, &ldquo;as though she
+      was afraid you were going to back out of your promise and jump overboard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t think,&rdquo; he protested violently, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s you she&rsquo;s interested in. All
+      she sees in you is what you can do for her. Can you see that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any one as clever at seeing things as I am,&rdquo; returned the reporter,
+      &ldquo;cannot help but see that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Later, as Ford was walking on the upper deck, Mrs. Ashton came toward him,
+      beating her way against the wind. Without a trace of coquetry or
+      self-consciousness, and with a sigh of content, she laid her hand on his
+      arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I don&rsquo;t see you,&rdquo; she exclaimed as simply as a child, &ldquo;I feel so
+      frightened. When I see you I know all will come right. Do you mind if I
+      walk with you?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;And do you mind if every now and then I ask
+      you to tell me again it will all come right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the three days following Mrs. Ashton and Ford were constantly
+      together. Or, at least, Mrs. Ashton was constantly with Ford. She told him
+      that when she sat in her cabin the old fears returned to her, and in these
+      moments of panic she searched the ship for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor protested that he was growing jealous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not so greatly to be envied,&rdquo; suggested Ford. &ldquo;&lsquo;Harry&rsquo; at meals three
+      times a day and on deck all the rest of the day becomes monotonous. On a
+      closer acquaintance with Harry he seems to be a decent sort of a young
+      man; at least he seems to have been at one time very much in love with
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; sighed the doctor sentimentally, &ldquo;she is certainly very much in
+      love with Harry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford shook his head non-committingly. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know her story,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t want to know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The ship was in the channel, on her way to Cherbourg, and running as
+      smoothly as a clock. From the shore friendly lights told them they were
+      nearing their journey&rsquo;s end; that the land was on every side. Seated on a
+      steamer-chair next to his in the semi-darkness of the deck, Mrs. Ashton
+      began to talk nervously and eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now that we are so near,&rdquo; she murmured, &ldquo;I have got to tell you
+      something. If you did not know I would feel I had not been fair. You might
+      think that when you were doing so much for me I should have been more
+      honest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She drew a long breath. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s so hard,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait,&rdquo; commanded Ford. &ldquo;Is it going to help me to find him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then don&rsquo;t tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His tone caused the girl to start. She leaned toward him and peered into
+      his face. His eyes, as he looked back to her, were kind and comprehending.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean,&rdquo; said the amateur detective, &ldquo;that your husband has deserted
+      you. That if it were not for the baby you would not try to find him. Is
+      that it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ashton breathed quickly and turned her face away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;That is it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long pause. When she faced him again the fact that there was
+      no longer a secret between them seemed to give her courage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you can understand. Maybe you can tell me what it
+      means. I have thought and thought. I have gone over it and over it until
+      when I go back to it my head aches. I have done nothing else but think,
+      and I can&rsquo;t make it seem better. I can&rsquo;t find any excuse. I have had no
+      one to talk to, no one I could tell. I have thought maybe a man could
+      understand.&rdquo; She raised her eyes appealingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you can only make it seem less cruel. Don&rsquo;t you see,&rdquo; she cried
+      miserably, &ldquo;I want to believe; I want to forgive him. I want to think he
+      loves me. Oh! I want so to be able to love him; but how can I? I can&rsquo;t! I
+      can&rsquo;t!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the week in which they had been thrown together the girl unconsciously
+      had told Ford much about herself and her husband. What she now told him
+      was but an amplification of what he had guessed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had met Ashton a year and a half before, when she had just left school
+      at the convent and had returned to live with her family. Her home was at
+      Far Rockaway. Her father was a cashier in a bank at Long Island City. One
+      night, with a party of friends, she had been taken to a dance at one of
+      the beach hotels, and there met Ashton. At that time he was one of a firm
+      that was making book at the Aqueduct race-track. The girl had met very few
+      men and with them was shy and frightened, but with Ashton she found
+      herself at once at ease. That night he drove her and her friends home in
+      his touring-car and the next day they teased her about her conquest. It
+      made her very happy. After that she went to hops at the hotel, and as the
+      bookmaker did not dance, the two young people sat upon the piazza. Then
+      Ashton came to see her at her own house, but when her father learned that
+      the young man who had been calling upon her was a bookmaker he told him he
+      could not associate with his daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the girl was now deeply in love with Ashton, and apparently he with
+      her. He begged her to marry him. They knew that to this, partly from
+      prejudice and partly owing to his position in the bank, her father would
+      object. Accordingly they agreed that in August, when the racing moved to
+      Saratoga, they would run away and get married at that place. Their plan
+      was that Ashton would leave for Saratoga with the other racing men, and
+      that she would join him the next day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had arranged to be married by a magistrate, and Ashton had shown her
+      a letter from one at Saratoga who consented to perform the ceremony. He
+      had given her an engagement ring and two thousand dollars, which he asked
+      her to keep for him, lest tempted at the track he should lose it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she assured Ford it was not such material things as a letter, a ring,
+      or gift of money that had led her to trust Ashton. His fear of losing her,
+      his complete subjection to her wishes, his happiness in her presence, all
+      seemed to prove that to make her happy was his one wish, and that he could
+      do anything to make her unhappy appeared impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were married the morning she arrived at Saratoga; and the same day
+      departed for Niagara Falls and Quebec. The honeymoon lasted ten days. They
+      were ten days of complete happiness. No one, so the girl declared, could
+      have been more kind, more unselfishly considerate than her husband. They
+      returned to Saratoga and engaged a suite of rooms at one of the big
+      hotels. Ashton was not satisfied with the rooms shown him, and leaving her
+      upstairs returned to the office floor to ask for others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since that moment his wife had never seen him nor heard from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the day of her marriage young Mrs. Ashton had written to her father,
+      asking him to give her his good wishes and pardon. He refused both. As she
+      had feared, he did not consider that for a bank clerk a gambler made a
+      desirable son-in-law; and the letters he wrote his daughter were so bitter
+      that in reply she informed him he had forced her to choose between her
+      family and her husband, and that she chose her husband. In consequence,
+      when she found herself deserted she felt she could not return to her
+      people. She remained in Saratoga. There she moved into cheap lodgings, and
+      in order that the two thousand dollars Ashton had left with her might be
+      saved for his child, she had learned to type-write, and after four months
+      had been able to support herself. Within the last month a girl friend, who
+      had known both Ashton and herself before they were married, had written
+      her that her husband was living in London. For the sake of her son she had
+      at once determined to make an effort to seek him out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The son, nonsense!&rdquo; exclaimed the doctor, when Ford retold the story.
+      &ldquo;She is not crossing the ocean because she is worried about the future of
+      her son. She seeks her own happiness. The woman is in love with her
+      husband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know!&rdquo; he objected. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s so extravagant in her praise of Harry
+      that it seems unreal. It sounds insincere. Then, again, when I swear I
+      will find him she shows a delight that you might describe as savage,
+      almost vindictive. As though, if I did find Harry, the first thing she
+      would do would be to stick a knife in him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe,&rdquo; volunteered the doctor sadly, &ldquo;she has heard there is a woman in
+      the case. Maybe she is the one she&rsquo;s thinking of sticking the knife into?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; declared the reporter, &ldquo;if she doesn&rsquo;t stop looking savage every
+      time I promise to find Harry I won&rsquo;t find Harry. Why should I act the part
+      of Fate, anyway? How do I know that Harry hasn&rsquo;t got a wife in London and
+      several in the States? How do we know he didn&rsquo;t leave his country for his
+      country&rsquo;s good? That&rsquo;s what it looks like to me. How can we tell what
+      confronted him the day he went down to the hotel desk to change his rooms
+      and, instead, got into his touring-car and beat the speed limit to Canada.
+      Whom did he meet in the hotel corridor? A woman with a perfectly good
+      marriage certificate, or a detective with a perfectly good warrant? Or did
+      Harry find out that his bride had a devil of a temper of her own, and that
+      for him marriage was a failure? The widow is certainly a very charming
+      young woman, but there may be two sides to this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a cynic, sir,&rdquo; protested the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may be,&rdquo; growled the reporter, &ldquo;but I am not a private detective
+      agency, or a matrimonial bureau, and before I hear myself saying, &lsquo;Bless
+      you, my children!&rsquo; both of these young people will have to show me why
+      they should not be kept asunder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      II
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      On the afternoon of their arrival in London Ford convoyed Mrs. Ashton to
+      an old-established private hotel in Craven Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here,&rdquo; he explained, &ldquo;you will be within a few hundred yards of the place
+      in which your husband is said to spend his time. I will be living in the
+      same hotel. If I find him you will know it in ten minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The widow gave a little gasp, whether of excitement or of happiness Ford
+      could not determine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whatever happens,&rdquo; she begged, &ldquo;will you let me hear from you sometimes?
+      You are the only person I know in London&mdash;and&mdash;it&rsquo;s so big it
+      frightens me. I don&rsquo;t want to be a burden,&rdquo; she went on eagerly, &ldquo;but if I
+      can feel you are within call&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you need,&rdquo; said Ford heartily, &ldquo;is less of the doctor&rsquo;s nerve tonic
+      and sleeping draughts, and a little innocent diversion. To-night I am
+      going to take you to the Savoy to supper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Ashton exclaimed delightedly, and then was filled with misgivings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have nothing to wear,&rdquo; she protested, &ldquo;and over here, in the evening,
+      the women dress so well. I have a dinner gown,&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;but it&rsquo;s
+      black. Would that do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford assured her nothing could be better. He had a man&rsquo;s vanity in liking
+      a woman with whom he was seen in public to be pretty and smartly dressed,
+      and he felt sure that in black the blond beauty of Mrs. Ashton would
+      appear to advantage. They arranged to meet at eleven on the promenade
+      leading to the Savoy supper-room, and parted with mutual satisfaction at
+      the prospect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The finding of Harry Ashton was so simple that in its very simplicity it
+      appeared spectacular.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On leaving Mrs. Ashton, Ford engaged rooms at the Hotel Cecil. Before
+      visiting his rooms he made his way to the American bar. He did not go
+      there seeking Harry Ashton. His object was entirely self-centred. His
+      purpose was to drink to himself and to the lights of London. But as though
+      by appointment, the man he had promised to find was waiting for him. As
+      Ford entered the room, at a table facing the door sat Ashton. There was no
+      mistaking him. He wore a mustache, but it was no disguise. He was the same
+      good-natured, good-looking youth who, in the photograph from under a
+      Panama hat, had smiled upon the world. With a glad cry Ford rushed toward
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fancy meeting YOU!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Ashton&rsquo;s good-natured smile did not relax. He merely shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Afraid you have made a mistake,&rdquo; he said. The reporter regarded him
+      blankly. His face showed his disappointment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you Charles W. Garrett, of New York?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not me,&rdquo; said Mr. Ashton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; Ford insisted in hurt tones, as though he were being trifled with,
+      &ldquo;you have been told you look like him, haven&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Ashton&rsquo;s good nature was unassailable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry,&rdquo; he declared, &ldquo;never heard of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford became garrulous, he could not believe two men could look so much
+      alike. It was a remarkable coincidence. The stranger must certainly have a
+      drink, the drink intended for his twin. Ashton was bored, but accepted. He
+      was well acquainted with the easy good-fellowship of his countrymen. The
+      room in which he sat was a meeting-place for them. He considered that they
+      were always giving each other drinks, and not only were they always
+      introducing themselves, but saying, &ldquo;Shake hands with my friend, Mr.
+      So-and-So.&rdquo; After five minutes they showed each other photographs of the
+      children. This one, though as loquacious as the others, seemed better
+      dressed, more &ldquo;wise&rdquo;; he brought to the exile the atmosphere of his
+      beloved Broadway, so Ashton drank to him pleasantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My name is Sydney Carter,&rdquo; he volunteered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As a poker-player skims over the cards in his hand, Ford, in his mind&rsquo;s
+      eye, ran over the value of giving or not giving his right name. He decided
+      that Ashton would not have heard it and that, if he gave a false one,
+      there was a chance that later Ashton might find out that he had done so.
+      Accordingly he said, &ldquo;Mine is Austin Ford,&rdquo; and seated himself at Ashton&rsquo;s
+      table. Within ten minutes the man he had promised to pluck from among the
+      eight million inhabitants of London was smiling sympathetically at his
+      jests and buying a drink.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the steamer Ford had rehearsed the story with which, should he meet
+      Ashton, he would introduce himself. It was one arranged to fit with his
+      theory that Ashton was a crook. If Ashton were a crook Ford argued that to
+      at once ingratiate himself in his good graces he also must be a crook. His
+      plan was to invite Ashton to co-operate with him in some scheme that was
+      openly dishonest. By so doing he hoped apparently to place himself at
+      Ashton&rsquo;s mercy. He believed if he could persuade Ashton he was more of a
+      rascal than Ashton himself, and an exceedingly stupid rascal, any distrust
+      the bookmaker might feel toward him would disappear. He made his advances
+      so openly, and apparently showed his hand so carelessly, that, from being
+      bored, Ashton became puzzled, then interested; and when Ford insisted he
+      should dine with him, he considered it so necessary to find out who the
+      youth might be who was forcing himself upon him that he accepted the
+      invitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They adjourned to dress and an hour later, at Ford&rsquo;s suggestion, they met
+      at the Carlton. There Ford ordered a dinner calculated to lull his newly
+      made friend into a mood suited to confidence, but which had on Ashton
+      exactly the opposite effect. Merely for the pleasure of his company, utter
+      strangers were not in the habit of treating him to strawberries in
+      February, and vintage champagne; and, in consequence, in Ford&rsquo;s
+      hospitality he saw only cause for suspicion. If, as he had first feared,
+      Ford was a New York detective, it was most important he should know that.
+      No one better than Ashton understood that, at that moment, his presence in
+      New York meant, for the police, unalloyed satisfaction, and for himself
+      undisturbed solitude. But Ford was unlike any detective of his
+      acquaintance; and his acquaintance had been extensive. It was true Ford
+      was familiar with all the habits of Broadway and the Tenderloin. Of places
+      with which Ashton was intimate, and of men with whom Ashton had formerly
+      been well acquainted, he talked glibly. But, if he were a detective,
+      Ashton considered, they certainly had improved the class.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The restaurant into which for the first time Ashton had penetrated, and in
+      which he felt ill at ease, was to Ford, he observed, a matter of course.
+      Evidently for Ford it held no terrors. He criticised the service,
+      patronized the head waiters, and grumbled at the food; and when, on
+      leaving the restaurant, an Englishman and his wife stopped at their table
+      to greet him, he accepted their welcome to London without embarrassment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashton, rolling his cigar between his lips, observed the incident with
+      increasing bewilderment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got some swell friends,&rdquo; he growled. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll bet you never met THEM
+      at Healey&rsquo;s!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I meet all kinds of people in my business,&rdquo; said Ford. &ldquo;I once sold that
+      man some mining stock, and the joke of it was,&rdquo; he added, smiling
+      knowingly, &ldquo;it turned out to be good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashton decided that the psychological moment had arrived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What IS your business?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a company promoter,&rdquo; said Ford easily. &ldquo;I thought I told you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not tell you that I was a company promoter, too, did I?&rdquo; demanded
+      Ashton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered Ford, with apparent surprise. &ldquo;Are you? That&rsquo;s funny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashton watched for the next move, but the subject seemed in no way to
+      interest Ford. Instead of following it up he began afresh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you any money lying idle?&rdquo; he asked abruptly. &ldquo;About a thousand
+      pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashton recognized that the mysterious stranger was about to disclose both
+      himself and whatever object he had in seeking him out. He cast a quick
+      glance about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can always find money,&rdquo; he said guardedly. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the proposition?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With pretended nervousness Ford leaned forward and began the story he had
+      rehearsed. It was a new version of an old swindle and to every
+      self-respecting confidence man was well known as the &ldquo;sick engineer&rdquo; game.
+      The plot is very simple. The sick engineer is supposed to be a mining
+      engineer who, as an expert, has examined a gold mine and reported against
+      it. For his services the company paid him partly in stock. He falls ill
+      and is at the point of death. While he has been ill much gold has been
+      found in the mine he examined, and the stock which he considers worthless
+      is now valuable. Of this, owing to his illness, he is ignorant. One
+      confidence man acts the part of the sick engineer, and the other that of a
+      broker who knows the engineer possesses the stock but has no money with
+      which to purchase it from him. For a share of the stock he offers to tell
+      the dupe where it and the engineer can be found. They visit the man,
+      apparently at the point of death, and the dupe gives him money for his
+      stock. Later the dupe finds the stock is worthless, and the supposed
+      engineer and the supposed broker divide the money he paid for it. In
+      telling the story Ford pretended he was the broker and that he thought in
+      Ashton he had found a dupe who would buy the stock from the sick engineer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the story unfolded and Ashton appreciated the part Ford expected him to
+      play in it, his emotions were so varied that he was in danger of apoplexy.
+      Amusement, joy, chagrin, and indignation illuminated his countenance. His
+      cigar ceased to burn, and with his eyes opened wide he regarded Ford in
+      pitying wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait!&rdquo; he commanded. He shook his head uncomprehendingly. &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; he
+      asked, &ldquo;do I look as easy as that, or are you just naturally foolish?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford pretended to fall into a state of great alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand,&rdquo; he stammered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, son,&rdquo; exclaimed Ashton kindly, &ldquo;I was taught that story in the
+      public schools. I invented it. I stopped using it before you cut your
+      teeth. Gee!&rdquo; he exclaimed delightedly. &ldquo;I knew I had grown
+      respectable-looking, but I didn&rsquo;t think I was so damned
+      respectable-looking as that!&rdquo; He began to laugh silently; so greatly was
+      he amused that the tears shone in his eyes and his shoulders shook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry for you, son,&rdquo; he protested, &ldquo;but that&rsquo;s the funniest thing
+      that&rsquo;s come my way in two years. And you buying me hot-house grapes, too,
+      and fancy water! I wish you could see your face,&rdquo; he taunted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford pretended to be greatly chagrined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; he declared roughly. &ldquo;The laugh&rsquo;s on me this time, but just
+      because I lost one trick, don&rsquo;t think I don&rsquo;t know my business. Now that
+      I&rsquo;m wise to what YOU are we can work together and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The face of young Mr. Ashton became instantly grave. His jaws snapped like
+      a trap. When he spoke his tone was assured and slightly contemptuous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not with ME you can&rsquo;t work!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t think because I fell down on this,&rdquo; Ford began hotly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not thinking of you at all,&rdquo; said Ashton. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re a nice little
+      fellow all right, but you have sized me up wrong. I am on the &lsquo;straight
+      and narrow&rsquo; that leads back to little old New York and God&rsquo;s country, and
+      I am warranted not to run off my trolley.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The words were in the vernacular, but the tone in which the young man
+      spoke rang so confidently that it brought to Ford a pleasant thrill of
+      satisfaction. From the first he had found in the personality of the young
+      man something winning and likable; a shrewd manliness and tolerant
+      good-humor. His eyes may have shown his sympathy, for, in sudden
+      confidence, Ashton leaned nearer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s like this,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Several years ago I made a bad break and,
+      about a year later, they got on to me and I had to cut and run. In a month
+      the law of limitation lets me loose and I can go back. And you can bet I&rsquo;m
+      GOING back. I will be on the bowsprit of the first boat. I&rsquo;ve had all I
+      want of the &lsquo;fugitive-from-justice&rsquo; game, thank you, and I have taken good
+      care to keep a clean bill of health so that I won&rsquo;t have to play it again.
+      They&rsquo;ve been trying to get me for several years&mdash;especially the
+      Pinkertons. They have chased me all over Europe. Chased me with all kinds
+      of men; sometimes with women; they&rsquo;ve tried everything except
+      blood-hounds. At first I thought YOU were a &lsquo;Pink,&rsquo; that&rsquo;s why&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I!&rdquo; interrupted Ford, exploding derisively. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s GOOD! That&rsquo;s one on
+      YOU.&rdquo; He ceased laughing and regarded Ashton kindly. &ldquo;How do you know I&rsquo;m
+      not?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For an instant the face of the bookmaker grew a shade less red and his
+      eyes searched those of Ford in a quick agony of suspicion. Ford continued
+      to smile steadily at him, and Ashton breathed with relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take a chance with you,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and if you are as bad a detective
+      as you are a sport I needn&rsquo;t worry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They both laughed, and, with sudden mutual liking, each raised his glass
+      and nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But they haven&rsquo;t got me yet,&rdquo; continued Ashton, &ldquo;and unless they get me
+      in the next thirty days I&rsquo;m free. So you needn&rsquo;t think that I&rsquo;ll help you.
+      It&rsquo;s &lsquo;never again&rsquo; for me. The first time, that was the fault of the crowd
+      I ran with; the second time, that would be MY fault. And there ain&rsquo;t going
+      to be any second time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook his head doggedly, and with squared shoulders leaned back in his
+      chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it only breaks right for me,&rdquo; he declared, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll settle down in one of
+      those &lsquo;Own-your own-homes,&rsquo; forty-five minutes from Broadway, and never
+      leave the wife and the baby.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The words almost brought Ford to his feet. He had forgotten the wife and
+      the baby. He endeavored to explain his surprise by a sudden assumption of
+      incredulity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fancy you married!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Married!&rdquo; protested Ashton. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m married to the finest little lady that
+      ever wore skirts, and in thirty-seven days I&rsquo;ll see her again.
+      Thirty-seven days,&rdquo; he repeated impatiently. &ldquo;Gee! That&rsquo;s a hell of a long
+      time!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford studied the young man with increased interest. That he was speaking
+      sincerely, from the heart, there seemed no possible doubt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ashton frowned and his face clouded. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve not been able to treat her just
+      right,&rdquo; he volunteered. &ldquo;If she wrote me, the letters might give them a
+      clew, and I don&rsquo;t write HER because I don&rsquo;t want her to know all my
+      troubles until they&rsquo;re over. But I know,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;that five minutes&rsquo; 
+      talk will set it all right. That is, if she still feels about me the way I
+      feel about her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man crushed his cigar in his fingers and threw the pieces on the
+      floor. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s what&rsquo;s been the worst!&rdquo; he exclaimed bitterly. &ldquo;Not
+      hearing, not knowing. It&rsquo;s been hell!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His eyes as he raised them were filled with suffering, deep and genuine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford rose suddenly. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s go down to the Savoy for supper,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Supper!&rdquo; growled Ashton. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the use of supper? Do you suppose cold
+      chicken and a sardine can keep me from THINKING?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford placed his hand on the other&rsquo;s shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You come with me,&rdquo; he said kindly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to do you a favor. I&rsquo;m
+      going to bring you a piece of luck. Don&rsquo;t ask me any questions,&rdquo; he
+      commanded hurriedly. &ldquo;Just take my word for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They had sat so late over their cigars that when they reached the
+      restaurant on the Embankment the supper-room was already partly filled,
+      and the corridors and lounge were brilliantly lit and gay with
+      well-dressed women. Ashton regarded the scene with gloomy eyes. Since he
+      had spoken of his wife he had remained silent, chewing savagely on a fresh
+      cigar. But Ford was grandly excited. He did not know exactly what he
+      intended to do. He was prepared to let events direct themselves, but of
+      two things he was assured: Mrs. Ashton loved her husband, and her husband
+      loved her. As the god in the car who was to bring them together, he felt a
+      delightful responsibility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young men left the coat-room and came down the short flight of steps
+      that leads to the wide lounge of the restaurant. Ford slightly in advance,
+      searching with his eyes for Mrs Ashton, found her seated alone in the
+      lounge, evidently waiting for him. At the first glance she was hardly be
+      recognized. Her low-cut dinner gown of black satin that clung to her like
+      a wet bath robe was the last word of the new fashion; and since Ford had
+      seen her her blond hair had been arranged by an artist. Her appearance was
+      smart, elegant, daring. She was easily the prettiest and most
+      striking-looking woman in the room, and for an instant Ford stood gazing
+      at her, trying to find in the self-possessed young woman the deserted wife
+      of the steamer. She did not see Ford. Her eyes were following the progress
+      down the hall of a woman, and her profile was toward him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thought of the happiness he was about to bring to two young people
+      gave Ford the sense of a genuine triumph, and when he turned to Ashton to
+      point out his wife to him he was thrilling with pride and satisfaction.
+      His triumph received a bewildering shock. Already Ashton had discovered
+      the presence of Mrs. Ashton. He was standing transfixed, lost to his
+      surroundings, devouring her with his eyes. And then, to the amazement of
+      Ford, his eyes filled with fear, doubt, and anger. Swiftly, with the
+      movement of a man ducking a blow, he turned and sprang up the stairs and
+      into the coat-room. Ford, bewildered and more conscious of his
+      surroundings, followed him less quickly, and was in consequence only in
+      time to see Ashton, dragging his overcoat behind him, disappear into the
+      court-yard. He seized his own coat and raced in pursuit. As he ran into
+      the court-yard Ashton, in the Strand, was just closing the door of a
+      taxicab, but before the chauffeur could free it from the surrounding
+      traffic, Ford had dragged the door open, and leaped inside. Ashton was
+      huddled in the corner, panting, his face pale with alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What the devil ails you?&rdquo; roared Ford. &ldquo;Are you trying to shake me?
+      You&rsquo;ve got to come back. You must speak to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speak to her!&rdquo; repeated Ashton. His voice was sunk to a whisper. The look
+      of alarm in his face was confused with one grim and menacing. &ldquo;Did you
+      know she was there?&rdquo; he demanded softly. &ldquo;Did you take me there, knowing&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I knew,&rdquo; protested Ford. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s been looking for you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice subsided in a squeak of amazement and pain. Ashton&rsquo;s left hand
+      had shot out and swiftly seized his throat. With the other he pressed an
+      automatic revolver against Ford&rsquo;s shirt front.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know she&rsquo;s been looking for me,&rdquo; the man whispered thickly. &ldquo;For two
+      years she&rsquo;s been looking for me. I know all about HER! But, WHO IN HELL
+      ARE YOU?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford, gasping and gurgling, protested loyally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are wrong!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s been at home waiting for you. She thinks
+      you have deserted her and your baby. I tell you she loves you, you fool,
+      she LOVES you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The fingers on his throat suddenly relaxed; the flaming eyes of Ashton,
+      glaring into his, wavered and grew wide with amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Loves me,&rdquo; he whispered. &ldquo;WHO loves me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your wife,&rdquo; protested Ford; &ldquo;the girl at the Savoy, your wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the fingers of Ashton pressed deep around his neck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not my wife,&rdquo; he whispered. His voice was unpleasantly cold and
+      grim. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s &lsquo;Baby Belle,&rsquo; with her hair dyed, a detective lady of the
+      Pinkertons, hired to find me. And YOU know it. Now, who are YOU?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To permit him to reply Ashton released his hand, but at the same moment,
+      in a sudden access of fear, dug the revolver deeper into the pit of Ford&rsquo;s
+      stomach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quick!&rdquo; he commanded. &ldquo;Never mind the girl. WHO ARE YOU?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford collapsed against the cushioned corner of the cab. &ldquo;And she begged me
+      to find you,&rdquo; he roared, &ldquo;because she LOVED you, because she wanted to
+      BELIEVE in you!&rdquo; He held his arms above his head. &ldquo;Go ahead and shoot!&rdquo; he
+      cried. &ldquo;You want to know who I am?&rdquo; he demanded. His voice rang with rage.
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m an amateur. Just a natural born fool-amateur! Go on and shoot!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gun in Ashton&rsquo;s hand sank to his knee. Between doubt and laughter his
+      face was twisted in strange lines. The cab was whirling through a narrow,
+      unlit street leading to Covent Garden. Opening the door Ashton called to
+      the chauffeur, and then turned to Ford.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You get off here!&rdquo; he commanded. &ldquo;Maybe you&rsquo;re a &lsquo;Pink,&rsquo; maybe you&rsquo;re a
+      good fellow. I think you&rsquo;re a good fellow, but I&rsquo;m not taking any chances.
+      Get out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ford scrambled to the street, and as the taxicab again butted itself
+      forward, Ashton leaned far through the window. &ldquo;Good-by, son,&rdquo; he called.
+      &ldquo;Send me a picture-postal card to Paris. For I am off to Maxim&rsquo;s,&rdquo; he
+      cried, &ldquo;and you can go to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all!&rdquo; shouted the amateur detective indignantly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going back
+      to take supper with &lsquo;Baby Belle&rsquo;!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur, by Richard Harding Davis
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+</pre>
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+</html>
diff --git a/1822.txt b/1822.txt
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+++ b/1822.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur, by Richard Harding Davis
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Amateur
+
+Author: Richard Harding Davis
+
+Release Date: May 12, 2006 [EBook #1822]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMATEUR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Don Lainson
+
+
+
+
+
+THE AMATEUR
+
+
+By Richard Harding Davis
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+It was February off the Banks, and so thick was the weather that, on
+the upper decks, one could have driven a sleigh. Inside the smoking-room
+Austin Ford, as securely sheltered from the blizzard as though he had
+been sitting in front of a wood fire at his club, ordered hot gin for
+himself and the ship's doctor. The ship's doctor had gone below on
+another "hurry call" from the widow. At the first luncheon on board the
+widow had sat on the right of Doctor Sparrow, with Austin Ford facing
+her. But since then, except to the doctor, she had been invisible. So,
+at frequent intervals, the ill health of the widow had deprived Ford of
+the society of the doctor. That it deprived him, also, of the society
+of the widow did not concern him. HER life had not been spent upon ocean
+liners; she could not remember when state-rooms were named after the
+States of the Union. She could not tell him of shipwrecks and salvage,
+of smugglers and of the modern pirates who found their victims in the
+smoking-room.
+
+Ford was on his way to England to act as the London correspondent of the
+New York Republic. For three years on that most sensational of the New
+York dailies he had been the star man, the chief muckraker, the chief
+sleuth. His interest was in crime. Not in crimes committed in passion or
+inspired by drink, but in such offences against law and society as
+are perpetrated with nice intelligence. The murderer, the burglar, the
+strong-arm men who, in side streets, waylay respectable citizens did not
+appeal to him. The man he studied, pursued, and exposed was the cashier
+who evolved a new method of covering up his peculations, the dishonest
+president of an insurance company, the confidence man who used no
+concealed weapon other than his wit. Toward the criminals he pursued
+young Ford felt no personal animosity. He harassed them as he would
+have shot a hawk killing chickens. Not because he disliked the hawk,
+but because the battle was unequal, and because he felt sorry for the
+chickens.
+
+Had you called Austin Ford an amateur detective he would have been
+greatly annoyed. He argued that his position was similar to that of
+the dramatic critic. The dramatic critic warned the public against bad
+plays; Ford warned it against bad men. Having done that, he left it to
+the public to determine whether the bad man should thrive or perish.
+
+When the managing editor told him of his appointment to London, Ford had
+protested that his work lay in New York; that of London and the English,
+except as a tourist and sight-seer, he knew nothing.
+
+"That's just why we are sending you," explained the managing editor.
+"Our readers are ignorant. To make them read about London you've got
+to tell them about themselves in London. They like to know who's been
+presented at court, about the American girls who have married dukes; and
+which ones opened a bazaar, and which one opened a hat shop, and which
+is getting a divorce. Don't send us anything concerning suffragettes and
+Dreadnaughts. Just send us stuff about Americans. If you take your meals
+in the Carlton grill-room and drink at the Cecil you can pick up more
+good stories than we can print. You will find lots of your friends over
+there. Some of those girls who married dukes," he suggested, "know you,
+don't they?"
+
+"Not since they married dukes," said Ford.
+
+"Well, anyway, all your other friends will be there," continued the
+managing editor encouragingly. "Now that they have shut up the tracks
+here all the con men have gone to London. They say an American can't
+take a drink at the Salisbury without his fellow-countrymen having a
+fight as to which one will sell him a gold brick."
+
+Ford's eyes lightened in pleasurable anticipation.
+
+"Look them over," urged the managing editor, "and send us a special.
+Call it 'The American Invasion.' Don't you see a story in it?"
+
+"It will be the first one I send you," said Ford. The ship's doctor
+returned from his visit below decks and sank into the leather cushion
+close to Ford's elbow. For a few moments the older man sipped doubtfully
+at his gin and water, and, as though perplexed, rubbed his hand over his
+bald and shining head. "I told her to talk to you," he said fretfully.
+
+"Her? Who?" inquired Ford. "Oh, the widow?"
+
+"You were right about that," said Doctor Sparrow; "she is not a widow."
+
+The reporter smiled complacently.
+
+"Do you know why I thought not?" he demanded. "Because all the time she
+was at luncheon she kept turning over her wedding-ring as though she was
+not used to it. It was a new ring, too. I told you then she was not a
+widow."
+
+"Do you always notice things like that?" asked the doctor.
+
+"Not on purpose," said the amateur detective; "I can't help it. I see
+ten things where other people see only one; just as some men run ten
+times as fast as other men. We have tried it out often at the office;
+put all sorts of junk under a newspaper, lifted the newspaper for five
+seconds, and then each man wrote down what he had seen. Out of twenty
+things I would remember seventeen. The next best guess would be about
+nine. Once I saw a man lift his coat collar to hide his face. It was in
+the Grand Central Station. I stopped him, and told him he was wanted.
+Turned out he WAS wanted. It was Goldberg, making his getaway to
+Canada."
+
+"It is a gift," said the doctor.
+
+"No, it's a nuisance," laughed the reporter. "I see so many things I
+don't want to see. I see that people are wearing clothes that are not
+made for them. I see when women are lying to me. I can see when men are
+on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and whether it is drink or debt or
+morphine--"
+
+The doctor snorted triumphantly.
+
+"You did not see that the widow was on the verge of a breakdown!"
+
+"No," returned the reporter. "Is she? I'm sorry."
+
+"If you're sorry," urged the doctor eagerly, "you'll help her. She is
+going to London alone to find her husband. He has disappeared. She
+thinks that he has been murdered, or that he is lying ill in some
+hospital. I told her if any one could help her to find him you could. I
+had to say something. She's very ill."
+
+"To find her husband in London?" repeated Ford. "London is a large
+town."
+
+"She has photographs of him and she knows where he spends his time,"
+pleaded the doctor. "He is a company promoter. It should be easy for
+you."
+
+"Maybe he doesn't want her to find him," said Ford. "Then it wouldn't be
+so easy for me."
+
+The old doctor sighed heavily. "I know," he murmured. "I thought of
+that, too. And she is so very pretty."
+
+"That was another thing I noticed," said Ford.
+
+The doctor gave no heed.
+
+"She must stop worrying," he exclaimed, "or she will have a mental
+collapse. I have tried sedatives, but they don't touch her. I want to
+give her courage. She is frightened. She's left a baby boy at home, and
+she's fearful that something will happen to him, and she's frightened
+at being at sea, frightened at being alone in London; it's pitiful." The
+old man shook his head. "Pitiful! Will you talk to her now?" he asked.
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ford. "She doesn't want to tell the story of her
+life to strange young men."
+
+"But it was she suggested it," cried the doctor. "She asked me if you
+were Austin Ford, the great detective."
+
+Ford snorted scornfully. "She did not!" he protested. His tone was that
+of a man who hopes to be contradicted.
+
+"But she did," insisted the doctor, "and I told her your specialty was
+tracing persons. Her face lightened at once; it gave her hope. She will
+listen to you. Speak very gently and kindly and confidently. Say you are
+sure you can find him."
+
+"Where is the lady now?" asked Ford.
+
+Doctor Sparrow scrambled eagerly to his feet. "She cannot leave her
+cabin," he answered.
+
+The widow, as Ford and Doctor Sparrow still thought of her, was lying on
+the sofa that ran the length of the state-room, parallel with the lower
+berth. She was fully dressed, except that instead of her bodice she wore
+a kimono that left her throat and arms bare. She had been sleeping,
+and when their entrance awoke her, her blue eyes regarded them
+uncomprehendingly. Ford, hidden from her by the doctor, observed that
+not only was she very pretty, but that she was absurdly young, and
+that the drowsy smile she turned upon the old man before she noted the
+presence of Ford was as innocent as that of a baby. Her cheeks were
+flushed, her eyes brilliant, her yellow curls had become loosened and
+were spread upon the pillow. When she saw Ford she caught the kimono so
+closely around her throat that she choked. Had the doctor not pushed her
+down she would have stood.
+
+"I thought," she stammered, "he was an OLD man."
+
+The doctor, misunderstanding, hastened to reassure her. "Mr. Ford is old
+in experience," he said soothingly. "He has had remarkable success.
+Why, he found a criminal once just because the man wore a collar. And
+he found Walsh, the burglar, and Phillips, the forger, and a gang of
+counterfeiters--"
+
+Mrs. Ashton turned upon him, her eyes wide with wonder. "But MY
+husband," she protested, "is not a criminal!"
+
+"My dear lady!" the doctor cried. "I did not mean that, of course not. I
+meant, if Mr. Ford can find men who don't wish to be found, how easy for
+him to find a man who--" He turned helplessly to Ford. "You tell her,"
+he begged.
+
+Ford sat down on a steamer trunk that protruded from beneath the berth,
+and, turning to the widow, gave her the full benefit of his working
+smile. It was confiding, helpless, appealing. It showed a trustfulness
+in the person to whom it was addressed that caused that individual to
+believe Ford needed protection from a wicked world.
+
+"Doctor Sparrow tells me," began Ford timidly, "you have lost your
+husband's address; that you will let me try to find him. If I can help
+in any way I should be glad."
+
+The young girl regarded him, apparently, with disappointment. It was
+as though Doctor Sparrow had led her to expect a man full of years
+and authority, a man upon whom she could lean; not a youth whose smile
+seemed to beg one not to scold him. She gave Ford three photographs,
+bound together with a string.
+
+"When Doctor Sparrow told me you could help me I got out these," she
+said.
+
+Ford jotted down a mental note to the effect that she "got them out."
+That is, she did not keep them where she could always look at them. That
+she was not used to look at them was evident by the fact that they were
+bound together.
+
+The first photograph showed three men standing in an open place and
+leaning on a railing. One of them was smiling toward the photographer.
+He was a good-looking young man of about thirty years of age, well fed,
+well dressed, and apparently well satisfied with the world and himself.
+Ford's own smile had disappeared. His eyes were alert and interested.
+
+"The one with the Panama hat pulled down over his eyes is your husband?"
+he asked.
+
+"Yes," assented the widow. Her tone showed slight surprise.
+
+"This was taken about a year ago?" inquired Ford. "Must have been," he
+answered himself; "they haven't raced at the Bay since then. This was
+taken in front of the club stand--probably for the Telegraph?" He lifted
+his eyes inquiringly.
+
+Rising on her elbow the young wife bent forward toward the photograph.
+"Does it say that there," she asked doubtfully. "How did you guess
+that?"
+
+In his role as chorus the ship's doctor exclaimed with enthusiasm:
+"Didn't I tell you? He's wonderful."
+
+Ford cut him off impatiently. "You never saw a rail as high as
+that except around a racetrack," he muttered. "And the badge in his
+buttonhole and the angle of the stand all show--"
+
+He interrupted himself to address the widow. "This is an owner's badge.
+What was the name of his stable?"
+
+"I don't know," she answered. She regarded the young man with sudden
+uneasiness. "They only owned one horse, but I believe that gave them the
+privilege of--"
+
+"I see," exclaimed Ford. "Your husband is a bookmaker. But in London he
+is a promoter of companies."
+
+"So my friend tells me," said Mrs. Ashton. "She's just got back from
+London. Her husband told her that Harry, my husband, was always at the
+American bar in the Cecil or at the Salisbury or the Savoy." The girl
+shook her head. "But a woman can't go looking for a man there," she
+protested. "That's why I thought you--"
+
+"That'll be all right," Ford assured her hurriedly. "It's a coincidence,
+but it happens that my own work takes me to these hotels, and if your
+husband is there I will find him." He returned the photographs.
+
+"Hadn't you better keep one?" she asked.
+
+"I won't forget him," said the reporter. "Besides"--he turned his eyes
+toward the doctor and, as though thinking aloud, said--"he may have
+grown a beard."
+
+There was a pause.
+
+The eyes of the woman grew troubled. Her lips pressed together as though
+in a sudden access of pain.
+
+"And he may," Ford continued, "have changed his name."
+
+As though fearful, if she spoke, the tears would fall, the girl nodded
+her head stiffly.
+
+Having learned what he wanted to know Ford applied to the wound a
+soothing ointment of promises and encouragement.
+
+"He's as good as found," he protested. "You will see him in a day, two
+days after you land."
+
+The girl's eyes opened happily. She clasped her hands together and
+raised them.
+
+"You will try?" she begged. "You will find him for me"--she corrected
+herself eagerly--"for me and the baby?"
+
+The loose sleeves of the kimono fell back to her shoulders showing the
+white arms; the eyes raised to Ford were glistening with tears.
+
+"Of course I will find him," growled the reporter.
+
+He freed himself from the appeal in the eyes of the young mother
+and left the cabin. The doctor followed. He was bubbling over with
+enthusiasm.
+
+"That was fine!" he cried. "You said just the right thing. There will be
+no collapse now."
+
+His satisfaction was swept away in a burst of disgust.
+
+"The blackguard!" he protested. "To desert a wife as young as that and
+as pretty as that."
+
+"So I have been thinking," said the reporter. "I guess," he added
+gravely, "what is going to happen is that before I find her husband I
+will have got to know him pretty well."
+
+Apparently, young Mrs. Ashton believed everything would come to pass
+just as Ford promised it would and as he chose to order it; for the next
+day, with a color not born of fever in her cheeks and courage in
+her eyes, she joined Ford and the doctor at the luncheon-table. Her
+attention was concentrated on the younger man. In him she saw the one
+person who could bring her husband to her.
+
+"She acts," growled the doctor later in the smoking-room, "as though
+she was afraid you were going to back out of your promise and jump
+overboard."
+
+"Don't think," he protested violently, "it's you she's interested in.
+All she sees in you is what you can do for her. Can you see that?"
+
+"Any one as clever at seeing things as I am," returned the reporter,
+"cannot help but see that."
+
+Later, as Ford was walking on the upper deck, Mrs. Ashton came toward
+him, beating her way against the wind. Without a trace of coquetry or
+self-consciousness, and with a sigh of content, she laid her hand on his
+arm.
+
+"When I don't see you," she exclaimed as simply as a child, "I feel so
+frightened. When I see you I know all will come right. Do you mind if I
+walk with you?" she asked. "And do you mind if every now and then I ask
+you to tell me again it will all come right?"
+
+For the three days following Mrs. Ashton and Ford were constantly
+together. Or, at least, Mrs. Ashton was constantly with Ford. She told
+him that when she sat in her cabin the old fears returned to her, and in
+these moments of panic she searched the ship for him.
+
+The doctor protested that he was growing jealous.
+
+"I'm not so greatly to be envied," suggested Ford. "'Harry' at
+meals three times a day and on deck all the rest of the day becomes
+monotonous. On a closer acquaintance with Harry he seems to be a decent
+sort of a young man; at least he seems to have been at one time very
+much in love with her."
+
+"Well," sighed the doctor sentimentally, "she is certainly very much in
+love with Harry."
+
+Ford shook his head non-committingly. "I don't know her story," he said.
+"Don't want to know it."
+
+The ship was in the channel, on her way to Cherbourg, and running as
+smoothly as a clock. From the shore friendly lights told them they were
+nearing their journey's end; that the land was on every side. Seated
+on a steamer-chair next to his in the semi-darkness of the deck, Mrs.
+Ashton began to talk nervously and eagerly.
+
+"Now that we are so near," she murmured, "I have got to tell you
+something. If you did not know I would feel I had not been fair. You
+might think that when you were doing so much for me I should have been
+more honest."
+
+She drew a long breath. "It's so hard," she said.
+
+"Wait," commanded Ford. "Is it going to help me to find him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then don't tell me."
+
+His tone caused the girl to start. She leaned toward him and peered
+into his face. His eyes, as he looked back to her, were kind and
+comprehending.
+
+"You mean," said the amateur detective, "that your husband has deserted
+you. That if it were not for the baby you would not try to find him. Is
+that it?"
+
+Mrs. Ashton breathed quickly and turned her face away.
+
+"Yes," she whispered. "That is it."
+
+There was a long pause. When she faced him again the fact that there was
+no longer a secret between them seemed to give her courage.
+
+"Maybe," she said, "you can understand. Maybe you can tell me what it
+means. I have thought and thought. I have gone over it and over it until
+when I go back to it my head aches. I have done nothing else but think,
+and I can't make it seem better. I can't find any excuse. I have had no
+one to talk to, no one I could tell. I have thought maybe a man could
+understand." She raised her eyes appealingly.
+
+"If you can only make it seem less cruel. Don't you see," she cried
+miserably, "I want to believe; I want to forgive him. I want to think he
+loves me. Oh! I want so to be able to love him; but how can I? I can't!
+I can't!"
+
+In the week in which they had been thrown together the girl
+unconsciously had told Ford much about herself and her husband. What she
+now told him was but an amplification of what he had guessed.
+
+She had met Ashton a year and a half before, when she had just left
+school at the convent and had returned to live with her family. Her home
+was at Far Rockaway. Her father was a cashier in a bank at Long Island
+City. One night, with a party of friends, she had been taken to a dance
+at one of the beach hotels, and there met Ashton. At that time he was
+one of a firm that was making book at the Aqueduct race-track. The girl
+had met very few men and with them was shy and frightened, but with
+Ashton she found herself at once at ease. That night he drove her and
+her friends home in his touring-car and the next day they teased her
+about her conquest. It made her very happy. After that she went to hops
+at the hotel, and as the bookmaker did not dance, the two young people
+sat upon the piazza. Then Ashton came to see her at her own house, but
+when her father learned that the young man who had been calling upon her
+was a bookmaker he told him he could not associate with his daughter.
+
+But the girl was now deeply in love with Ashton, and apparently he with
+her. He begged her to marry him. They knew that to this, partly from
+prejudice and partly owing to his position in the bank, her father would
+object. Accordingly they agreed that in August, when the racing moved to
+Saratoga, they would run away and get married at that place. Their plan
+was that Ashton would leave for Saratoga with the other racing men, and
+that she would join him the next day.
+
+They had arranged to be married by a magistrate, and Ashton had shown
+her a letter from one at Saratoga who consented to perform the ceremony.
+He had given her an engagement ring and two thousand dollars, which he
+asked her to keep for him, lest tempted at the track he should lose it.
+
+But she assured Ford it was not such material things as a letter, a
+ring, or gift of money that had led her to trust Ashton. His fear of
+losing her, his complete subjection to her wishes, his happiness in her
+presence, all seemed to prove that to make her happy was his one wish,
+and that he could do anything to make her unhappy appeared impossible.
+
+They were married the morning she arrived at Saratoga; and the same day
+departed for Niagara Falls and Quebec. The honeymoon lasted ten days.
+They were ten days of complete happiness. No one, so the girl declared,
+could have been more kind, more unselfishly considerate than her
+husband. They returned to Saratoga and engaged a suite of rooms at one
+of the big hotels. Ashton was not satisfied with the rooms shown him,
+and leaving her upstairs returned to the office floor to ask for others.
+
+Since that moment his wife had never seen him nor heard from him.
+
+On the day of her marriage young Mrs. Ashton had written to her father,
+asking him to give her his good wishes and pardon. He refused both. As
+she had feared, he did not consider that for a bank clerk a gambler made
+a desirable son-in-law; and the letters he wrote his daughter were
+so bitter that in reply she informed him he had forced her to choose
+between her family and her husband, and that she chose her husband.
+In consequence, when she found herself deserted she felt she could not
+return to her people. She remained in Saratoga. There she moved into
+cheap lodgings, and in order that the two thousand dollars Ashton
+had left with her might be saved for his child, she had learned to
+type-write, and after four months had been able to support herself.
+Within the last month a girl friend, who had known both Ashton and
+herself before they were married, had written her that her husband was
+living in London. For the sake of her son she had at once determined to
+make an effort to seek him out.
+
+"The son, nonsense!" exclaimed the doctor, when Ford retold the story.
+"She is not crossing the ocean because she is worried about the future
+of her son. She seeks her own happiness. The woman is in love with her
+husband."
+
+Ford shook his head.
+
+"I don't know!" he objected. "She's so extravagant in her praise of
+Harry that it seems unreal. It sounds insincere. Then, again, when I
+swear I will find him she shows a delight that you might describe as
+savage, almost vindictive. As though, if I did find Harry, the first
+thing she would do would be to stick a knife in him."
+
+"Maybe," volunteered the doctor sadly, "she has heard there is a woman
+in the case. Maybe she is the one she's thinking of sticking the knife
+into?"
+
+"Well," declared the reporter, "if she doesn't stop looking savage every
+time I promise to find Harry I won't find Harry. Why should I act the
+part of Fate, anyway? How do I know that Harry hasn't got a wife in
+London and several in the States? How do we know he didn't leave his
+country for his country's good? That's what it looks like to me. How can
+we tell what confronted him the day he went down to the hotel desk to
+change his rooms and, instead, got into his touring-car and beat the
+speed limit to Canada. Whom did he meet in the hotel corridor? A woman
+with a perfectly good marriage certificate, or a detective with a
+perfectly good warrant? Or did Harry find out that his bride had a devil
+of a temper of her own, and that for him marriage was a failure? The
+widow is certainly a very charming young woman, but there may be two
+sides to this."
+
+"You are a cynic, sir," protested the doctor.
+
+"That may be," growled the reporter, "but I am not a private detective
+agency, or a matrimonial bureau, and before I hear myself saying, 'Bless
+you, my children!' both of these young people will have to show me why
+they should not be kept asunder."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+On the afternoon of their arrival in London Ford convoyed Mrs. Ashton to
+an old-established private hotel in Craven Street.
+
+"Here," he explained, "you will be within a few hundred yards of the
+place in which your husband is said to spend his time. I will be living
+in the same hotel. If I find him you will know it in ten minutes."
+
+The widow gave a little gasp, whether of excitement or of happiness Ford
+could not determine.
+
+"Whatever happens," she begged, "will you let me hear from you
+sometimes? You are the only person I know in London--and--it's so big it
+frightens me. I don't want to be a burden," she went on eagerly, "but if
+I can feel you are within call--"
+
+"What you need," said Ford heartily, "is less of the doctor's nerve
+tonic and sleeping draughts, and a little innocent diversion. To-night I
+am going to take you to the Savoy to supper."
+
+Mrs. Ashton exclaimed delightedly, and then was filled with misgivings.
+
+"I have nothing to wear," she protested, "and over here, in the evening,
+the women dress so well. I have a dinner gown," she exclaimed, "but it's
+black. Would that do?"
+
+Ford assured her nothing could be better. He had a man's vanity in
+liking a woman with whom he was seen in public to be pretty and smartly
+dressed, and he felt sure that in black the blond beauty of Mrs. Ashton
+would appear to advantage. They arranged to meet at eleven on the
+promenade leading to the Savoy supper-room, and parted with mutual
+satisfaction at the prospect.
+
+
+The finding of Harry Ashton was so simple that in its very simplicity it
+appeared spectacular.
+
+On leaving Mrs. Ashton, Ford engaged rooms at the Hotel Cecil. Before
+visiting his rooms he made his way to the American bar. He did not go
+there seeking Harry Ashton. His object was entirely self-centred. His
+purpose was to drink to himself and to the lights of London. But as
+though by appointment, the man he had promised to find was waiting for
+him. As Ford entered the room, at a table facing the door sat Ashton.
+There was no mistaking him. He wore a mustache, but it was no disguise.
+He was the same good-natured, good-looking youth who, in the photograph
+from under a Panama hat, had smiled upon the world. With a glad cry Ford
+rushed toward him.
+
+"Fancy meeting YOU!" he exclaimed.
+
+Mr. Ashton's good-natured smile did not relax. He merely shook his head.
+
+"Afraid you have made a mistake," he said. The reporter regarded him
+blankly. His face showed his disappointment.
+
+"Aren't you Charles W. Garrett, of New York?" he demanded.
+
+"Not me," said Mr. Ashton.
+
+"But," Ford insisted in hurt tones, as though he were being trifled
+with, "you have been told you look like him, haven't you?"
+
+Mr. Ashton's good nature was unassailable.
+
+"Sorry," he declared, "never heard of him."
+
+Ford became garrulous, he could not believe two men could look so much
+alike. It was a remarkable coincidence. The stranger must certainly
+have a drink, the drink intended for his twin. Ashton was bored, but
+accepted. He was well acquainted with the easy good-fellowship of his
+countrymen. The room in which he sat was a meeting-place for them. He
+considered that they were always giving each other drinks, and not only
+were they always introducing themselves, but saying, "Shake hands with
+my friend, Mr. So-and-So." After five minutes they showed each other
+photographs of the children. This one, though as loquacious as the
+others, seemed better dressed, more "wise"; he brought to the exile the
+atmosphere of his beloved Broadway, so Ashton drank to him pleasantly.
+
+"My name is Sydney Carter," he volunteered.
+
+As a poker-player skims over the cards in his hand, Ford, in his mind's
+eye, ran over the value of giving or not giving his right name. He
+decided that Ashton would not have heard it and that, if he gave a false
+one, there was a chance that later Ashton might find out that he had
+done so. Accordingly he said, "Mine is Austin Ford," and seated himself
+at Ashton's table. Within ten minutes the man he had promised to
+pluck from among the eight million inhabitants of London was smiling
+sympathetically at his jests and buying a drink.
+
+On the steamer Ford had rehearsed the story with which, should he meet
+Ashton, he would introduce himself. It was one arranged to fit with his
+theory that Ashton was a crook. If Ashton were a crook Ford argued
+that to at once ingratiate himself in his good graces he also must be
+a crook. His plan was to invite Ashton to co-operate with him in some
+scheme that was openly dishonest. By so doing he hoped apparently to
+place himself at Ashton's mercy. He believed if he could persuade Ashton
+he was more of a rascal than Ashton himself, and an exceedingly
+stupid rascal, any distrust the bookmaker might feel toward him would
+disappear. He made his advances so openly, and apparently showed his
+hand so carelessly, that, from being bored, Ashton became puzzled,
+then interested; and when Ford insisted he should dine with him, he
+considered it so necessary to find out who the youth might be who was
+forcing himself upon him that he accepted the invitation.
+
+They adjourned to dress and an hour later, at Ford's suggestion, they
+met at the Carlton. There Ford ordered a dinner calculated to lull his
+newly made friend into a mood suited to confidence, but which had on
+Ashton exactly the opposite effect. Merely for the pleasure of his
+company, utter strangers were not in the habit of treating him to
+strawberries in February, and vintage champagne; and, in consequence, in
+Ford's hospitality he saw only cause for suspicion. If, as he had first
+feared, Ford was a New York detective, it was most important he should
+know that. No one better than Ashton understood that, at that moment,
+his presence in New York meant, for the police, unalloyed satisfaction,
+and for himself undisturbed solitude. But Ford was unlike any detective
+of his acquaintance; and his acquaintance had been extensive. It
+was true Ford was familiar with all the habits of Broadway and the
+Tenderloin. Of places with which Ashton was intimate, and of men with
+whom Ashton had formerly been well acquainted, he talked glibly. But, if
+he were a detective, Ashton considered, they certainly had improved the
+class.
+
+The restaurant into which for the first time Ashton had penetrated,
+and in which he felt ill at ease, was to Ford, he observed, a matter
+of course. Evidently for Ford it held no terrors. He criticised the
+service, patronized the head waiters, and grumbled at the food; and
+when, on leaving the restaurant, an Englishman and his wife stopped at
+their table to greet him, he accepted their welcome to London without
+embarrassment.
+
+Ashton, rolling his cigar between his lips, observed the incident with
+increasing bewilderment.
+
+"You've got some swell friends," he growled. "I'll bet you never met
+THEM at Healey's!"
+
+"I meet all kinds of people in my business," said Ford. "I once sold
+that man some mining stock, and the joke of it was," he added, smiling
+knowingly, "it turned out to be good."
+
+Ashton decided that the psychological moment had arrived.
+
+"What IS your business?" he asked.
+
+"I'm a company promoter," said Ford easily. "I thought I told you."
+
+"I did not tell you that I was a company promoter, too, did I?" demanded
+Ashton.
+
+"No," answered Ford, with apparent surprise. "Are you? That's funny."
+
+Ashton watched for the next move, but the subject seemed in no way to
+interest Ford. Instead of following it up he began afresh.
+
+"Have you any money lying idle?" he asked abruptly. "About a thousand
+pounds."
+
+Ashton recognized that the mysterious stranger was about to disclose
+both himself and whatever object he had in seeking him out. He cast a
+quick glance about him.
+
+"I can always find money," he said guardedly. "What's the proposition?"
+
+With pretended nervousness Ford leaned forward and began the story
+he had rehearsed. It was a new version of an old swindle and to every
+self-respecting confidence man was well known as the "sick engineer"
+game. The plot is very simple. The sick engineer is supposed to be a
+mining engineer who, as an expert, has examined a gold mine and reported
+against it. For his services the company paid him partly in stock. He
+falls ill and is at the point of death. While he has been ill much gold
+has been found in the mine he examined, and the stock which he considers
+worthless is now valuable. Of this, owing to his illness, he is
+ignorant. One confidence man acts the part of the sick engineer, and the
+other that of a broker who knows the engineer possesses the stock but
+has no money with which to purchase it from him. For a share of the
+stock he offers to tell the dupe where it and the engineer can be found.
+They visit the man, apparently at the point of death, and the dupe gives
+him money for his stock. Later the dupe finds the stock is worthless,
+and the supposed engineer and the supposed broker divide the money he
+paid for it. In telling the story Ford pretended he was the broker and
+that he thought in Ashton he had found a dupe who would buy the stock
+from the sick engineer.
+
+As the story unfolded and Ashton appreciated the part Ford expected
+him to play in it, his emotions were so varied that he was in danger
+of apoplexy. Amusement, joy, chagrin, and indignation illuminated his
+countenance. His cigar ceased to burn, and with his eyes opened wide he
+regarded Ford in pitying wonder.
+
+"Wait!" he commanded. He shook his head uncomprehendingly. "Tell me," he
+asked, "do I look as easy as that, or are you just naturally foolish?"
+
+Ford pretended to fall into a state of great alarm.
+
+"I don't understand," he stammered.
+
+"Why, son," exclaimed Ashton kindly, "I was taught that story in the
+public schools. I invented it. I stopped using it before you cut
+your teeth. Gee!" he exclaimed delightedly. "I knew I had
+grown respectable-looking, but I didn't think I was so damned
+respectable-looking as that!" He began to laugh silently; so greatly was
+he amused that the tears shone in his eyes and his shoulders shook.
+
+"I'm sorry for you, son," he protested, "but that's the funniest thing
+that's come my way in two years. And you buying me hot-house grapes,
+too, and fancy water! I wish you could see your face," he taunted.
+
+Ford pretended to be greatly chagrined.
+
+"All right," he declared roughly. "The laugh's on me this time, but just
+because I lost one trick, don't think I don't know my business. Now that
+I'm wise to what YOU are we can work together and--"
+
+The face of young Mr. Ashton became instantly grave. His jaws
+snapped like a trap. When he spoke his tone was assured and slightly
+contemptuous.
+
+"Not with ME you can't work!" he said.
+
+"Don't think because I fell down on this," Ford began hotly.
+
+"I'm not thinking of you at all," said Ashton. "You're a nice little
+fellow all right, but you have sized me up wrong. I am on the 'straight
+and narrow' that leads back to little old New York and God's country,
+and I am warranted not to run off my trolley."
+
+The words were in the vernacular, but the tone in which the young man
+spoke rang so confidently that it brought to Ford a pleasant thrill
+of satisfaction. From the first he had found in the personality of the
+young man something winning and likable; a shrewd manliness and tolerant
+good-humor. His eyes may have shown his sympathy, for, in sudden
+confidence, Ashton leaned nearer.
+
+"It's like this," he said. "Several years ago I made a bad break and,
+about a year later, they got on to me and I had to cut and run. In a
+month the law of limitation lets me loose and I can go back. And you can
+bet I'm GOING back. I will be on the bowsprit of the first boat. I've
+had all I want of the 'fugitive-from-justice' game, thank you, and I
+have taken good care to keep a clean bill of health so that I won't
+have to play it again. They've been trying to get me for several
+years--especially the Pinkertons. They have chased me all over Europe.
+Chased me with all kinds of men; sometimes with women; they've tried
+everything except blood-hounds. At first I thought YOU were a 'Pink,'
+that's why--"
+
+"I!" interrupted Ford, exploding derisively. "That's GOOD! That's one
+on YOU." He ceased laughing and regarded Ashton kindly. "How do you know
+I'm not?" he asked.
+
+For an instant the face of the bookmaker grew a shade less red and
+his eyes searched those of Ford in a quick agony of suspicion. Ford
+continued to smile steadily at him, and Ashton breathed with relief.
+
+"I'll take a chance with you," he said, "and if you are as bad a
+detective as you are a sport I needn't worry."
+
+They both laughed, and, with sudden mutual liking, each raised his glass
+and nodded.
+
+"But they haven't got me yet," continued Ashton, "and unless they get
+me in the next thirty days I'm free. So you needn't think that I'll help
+you. It's 'never again' for me. The first time, that was the fault of
+the crowd I ran with; the second time, that would be MY fault. And there
+ain't going to be any second time."
+
+He shook his head doggedly, and with squared shoulders leaned back in
+his chair.
+
+"If it only breaks right for me," he declared, "I'll settle down in one
+of those 'Own-your own-homes,' forty-five minutes from Broadway, and
+never leave the wife and the baby."
+
+The words almost brought Ford to his feet. He had forgotten the wife and
+the baby. He endeavored to explain his surprise by a sudden assumption
+of incredulity.
+
+"Fancy you married!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Married!" protested Ashton. "I'm married to the finest little lady
+that ever wore skirts, and in thirty-seven days I'll see her again.
+Thirty-seven days," he repeated impatiently. "Gee! That's a hell of a
+long time!"
+
+Ford studied the young man with increased interest. That he was speaking
+sincerely, from the heart, there seemed no possible doubt.
+
+Ashton frowned and his face clouded. "I've not been able to treat her
+just right," he volunteered. "If she wrote me, the letters might give
+them a clew, and I don't write HER because I don't want her to know
+all my troubles until they're over. But I know," he added, "that five
+minutes' talk will set it all right. That is, if she still feels about
+me the way I feel about her."
+
+The man crushed his cigar in his fingers and threw the pieces on the
+floor. "That's what's been the worst!" he exclaimed bitterly. "Not
+hearing, not knowing. It's been hell!"
+
+His eyes as he raised them were filled with suffering, deep and genuine.
+
+Ford rose suddenly. "Let's go down to the Savoy for supper," he said.
+
+"Supper!" growled Ashton. "What's the use of supper? Do you suppose cold
+chicken and a sardine can keep me from THINKING?"
+
+Ford placed his hand on the other's shoulder.
+
+"You come with me," he said kindly. "I'm going to do you a favor. I'm
+going to bring you a piece of luck. Don't ask me any questions," he
+commanded hurriedly. "Just take my word for it."
+
+They had sat so late over their cigars that when they reached the
+restaurant on the Embankment the supper-room was already partly
+filled, and the corridors and lounge were brilliantly lit and gay with
+well-dressed women. Ashton regarded the scene with gloomy eyes. Since
+he had spoken of his wife he had remained silent, chewing savagely on a
+fresh cigar. But Ford was grandly excited. He did not know exactly what
+he intended to do. He was prepared to let events direct themselves, but
+of two things he was assured: Mrs. Ashton loved her husband, and her
+husband loved her. As the god in the car who was to bring them together,
+he felt a delightful responsibility.
+
+The young men left the coat-room and came down the short flight of
+steps that leads to the wide lounge of the restaurant. Ford slightly in
+advance, searching with his eyes for Mrs Ashton, found her seated alone
+in the lounge, evidently waiting for him. At the first glance she was
+hardly be recognized. Her low-cut dinner gown of black satin that clung
+to her like a wet bath robe was the last word of the new fashion; and
+since Ford had seen her her blond hair had been arranged by an artist.
+Her appearance was smart, elegant, daring. She was easily the prettiest
+and most striking-looking woman in the room, and for an instant Ford
+stood gazing at her, trying to find in the self-possessed young woman
+the deserted wife of the steamer. She did not see Ford. Her eyes were
+following the progress down the hall of a woman, and her profile was
+toward him.
+
+The thought of the happiness he was about to bring to two young people
+gave Ford the sense of a genuine triumph, and when he turned to
+Ashton to point out his wife to him he was thrilling with pride and
+satisfaction. His triumph received a bewildering shock. Already Ashton
+had discovered the presence of Mrs. Ashton. He was standing transfixed,
+lost to his surroundings, devouring her with his eyes. And then, to the
+amazement of Ford, his eyes filled with fear, doubt, and anger. Swiftly,
+with the movement of a man ducking a blow, he turned and sprang up the
+stairs and into the coat-room. Ford, bewildered and more conscious of
+his surroundings, followed him less quickly, and was in consequence only
+in time to see Ashton, dragging his overcoat behind him, disappear into
+the court-yard. He seized his own coat and raced in pursuit. As he ran
+into the court-yard Ashton, in the Strand, was just closing the door of
+a taxicab, but before the chauffeur could free it from the surrounding
+traffic, Ford had dragged the door open, and leaped inside. Ashton was
+huddled in the corner, panting, his face pale with alarm.
+
+"What the devil ails you?" roared Ford. "Are you trying to shake me?
+You've got to come back. You must speak to her."
+
+"Speak to her!" repeated Ashton. His voice was sunk to a whisper. The
+look of alarm in his face was confused with one grim and menacing. "Did
+you know she was there?" he demanded softly. "Did you take me there,
+knowing--?"
+
+"Of course I knew," protested Ford. "She's been looking for you--"
+
+His voice subsided in a squeak of amazement and pain. Ashton's left hand
+had shot out and swiftly seized his throat. With the other he pressed an
+automatic revolver against Ford's shirt front.
+
+"I know she's been looking for me," the man whispered thickly. "For two
+years she's been looking for me. I know all about HER! But, WHO IN HELL
+ARE YOU?"
+
+Ford, gasping and gurgling, protested loyally.
+
+"You are wrong!" he cried. "She's been at home waiting for you. She
+thinks you have deserted her and your baby. I tell you she loves you,
+you fool, she LOVES you!"
+
+The fingers on his throat suddenly relaxed; the flaming eyes of Ashton,
+glaring into his, wavered and grew wide with amazement.
+
+"Loves me," he whispered. "WHO loves me?"
+
+"Your wife," protested Ford; "the girl at the Savoy, your wife."
+
+Again the fingers of Ashton pressed deep around his neck.
+
+"That is not my wife," he whispered. His voice was unpleasantly cold and
+grim. "That's 'Baby Belle,' with her hair dyed, a detective lady of the
+Pinkertons, hired to find me. And YOU know it. Now, who are YOU?"
+
+To permit him to reply Ashton released his hand, but at the same moment,
+in a sudden access of fear, dug the revolver deeper into the pit of
+Ford's stomach.
+
+"Quick!" he commanded. "Never mind the girl. WHO ARE YOU?"
+
+Ford collapsed against the cushioned corner of the cab. "And she begged
+me to find you," he roared, "because she LOVED you, because she wanted
+to BELIEVE in you!" He held his arms above his head. "Go ahead and
+shoot!" he cried. "You want to know who I am?" he demanded. His voice
+rang with rage. "I'm an amateur. Just a natural born fool-amateur! Go on
+and shoot!"
+
+The gun in Ashton's hand sank to his knee. Between doubt and laughter
+his face was twisted in strange lines. The cab was whirling through a
+narrow, unlit street leading to Covent Garden. Opening the door Ashton
+called to the chauffeur, and then turned to Ford.
+
+"You get off here!" he commanded. "Maybe you're a 'Pink,' maybe you're
+a good fellow. I think you're a good fellow, but I'm not taking any
+chances. Get out!"
+
+Ford scrambled to the street, and as the taxicab again butted itself
+forward, Ashton leaned far through the window. "Good-by, son," he
+called. "Send me a picture-postal card to Paris. For I am off to
+Maxim's," he cried, "and you can go to--"
+
+"Not at all!" shouted the amateur detective indignantly. "I'm going back
+to take supper with 'Baby Belle'!"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amateur, by Richard Harding Davis
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+*Project Gutenberg Etext The Amateur, by Richard Harding Davis*
+#26 in our series by Richard Harding Davis
+
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+The Amateur
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+*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
+
+
+
+
+
+Prepared by Don Lainson
+
+THE AMATEUR
+
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+It was February off the Banks, and so thick was the weather that,
+on the upper decks, one could have driven a sleigh.  Inside the
+smoking-room Austin Ford, as securely sheltered from the blizzard
+as though he had been sitting in front of a wood fire at his club,
+ordered hot gin for himself and the ship's doctor.  The ship's
+doctor had gone below on another "hurry call" from the widow.  At
+the first luncheon on board the widow had sat on the right of
+Doctor Sparrow, with Austin Ford facing her.  But since then,
+except to the doctor, she had been invisible.  So, at frequent
+intervals, the ill health of the widow had deprived Ford of the
+society of the doctor.  That it deprived him, also, of the society
+of the widow did not concern him.  HER life had not been spent upon
+ocean liners; she could not remember when state-rooms were named
+after the States of the Union.  She could not tell him of
+shipwrecks and salvage, of smugglers and of the modern pirates who
+found their victims in the smoking-room.
+
+Ford was on his way to England to act as the London correspondent
+of the New York Republic.  For three years on that most sensational
+of the New York dailies he had been the star man, the chief
+muckraker, the chief sleuth.  His interest was in crime.  Not in
+crimes committed in passion or inspired by drink, but in such
+offences against law and society as are perpetrated with nice
+intelligence.  The murderer, the burglar, the strong-arm men who,
+in side streets, waylay respectable citizens did not appeal to him.
+The man he studied, pursued, and exposed was the cashier who
+evolved a new method of covering up his peculations, the dishonest
+president of an insurance company, the confidence man who used no
+concealed weapon other than his wit.  Toward the criminals he
+pursued young Ford felt no personal animosity.  He harassed them as
+he would have shot a hawk killing chickens.  Not because he
+disliked the hawk, but because the battle was unequal, and because
+he felt sorry for the chickens.
+
+Had you called Austin Ford an amateur detective he would have been
+greatly annoyed.  He argued that his position was similar to that
+of the dramatic critic.  The dramatic critic warned the public
+against bad plays; Ford warned it against bad men.  Having done
+that, he left it to the public to determine whether the bad man
+should thrive or perish.
+
+When the managing editor told him of his appointment to London,
+Ford had protested that his work lay in New York; that of London
+and the English, except as a tourist and sight-seer, he knew
+nothing.
+
+"That's just why we are sending you," explained the managing
+editor.  "Our readers are ignorant.  To make them read about London
+you've got to tell them about themselves in London.  They like to
+know who's been presented at court, about the American girls who
+have married dukes; and which ones opened a bazaar, and which one
+opened a hat shop, and which is getting a divorce.  Don't send us
+anything concerning suffragettes and Dreadnaughts.  Just send us
+stuff about Americans.  If you take your meals in the Carlton
+grill-room and drink at the Cecil you can pick up more good stories
+than we can print.  You will find lots of your friends over there.
+Some of those girls who married dukes," he suggested, "know you,
+don't they?"
+
+"Not since they married dukes," said Ford.
+
+"Well, anyway, all your other friends will be there," continued the
+managing editor encouragingly.  "Now that they have shut up the
+tracks here all the con men have gone to London.  They say an
+American can't take a drink at the Salisbury without his fellow-
+countrymen having a fight as to which one will sell him a gold
+brick."
+
+Ford's eyes lightened in pleasurable anticipation.
+
+"Look them over," urged the managing editor, "and send us a
+special.  Call it 'The American Invasion.'  Don't you see a story
+in it?"
+
+"It will be the first one I send you," said Ford.  The ship's
+doctor returned from his visit below decks and sank into the
+leather cushion close to Ford's elbow.  For a few moments the older
+man sipped doubtfully at his gin and water, and, as though
+perplexed, rubbed his hand over his bald and shining head.  "I told
+her to talk to you," he said fretfully.
+
+"Her?  Who?" inquired Ford.  "Oh, the widow?"
+
+"You were right about that," said Doctor Sparrow; "she is not a
+widow."
+
+The reporter smiled complacently.
+
+"Do you know why I thought not?" he demanded.  "Because all the
+time she was at luncheon she kept turning over her wedding-ring as
+though she was not used to it.  It was a new ring, too.  I told you
+then she was not a widow."
+
+"Do you always notice things like that?" asked the doctor.
+
+"Not on purpose," said the amateur detective; "I can't help it.  I
+see ten things where other people see only one; just as some men
+run ten times as fast as other men.  We have tried it out often at
+the office; put all sorts of junk under a newspaper, lifted the
+newspaper for five seconds, and then each man wrote down what he
+had seen.  Out of twenty things I would remember seventeen.  The
+next best guess would be about nine.  Once I saw a man lift his
+coat collar to hide his face.  It was in the Grand Central Station.
+I stopped him, and told him he was wanted.  Turned out he WAS
+wanted.  It was Goldberg, making his getaway to Canada."
+
+"It is a gift," said the doctor.
+
+"No, it's a nuisance," laughed the reporter.  "I see so many things
+I don't want to see.  I see that people are wearing clothes that
+are not made for them.  I see when women are lying to me.  I can
+see when men are on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and whether
+it is drink or debt or morphine--"
+
+The doctor snorted triumphantly.
+
+"You did not see that the widow was on the verge of a breakdown!"
+
+"No," returned the reporter.  "Is she?  I'm sorry."
+
+"If you're sorry," urged the doctor eagerly, you'll help her.  She
+is going to London alone to find her husband.  He has disappeared.
+She thinks that he has been murdered, or that he is lying ill in
+some hospital.  I told her if any one could help her to find him
+you could.  I had to say something.  She's very ill."
+
+"To find her husband in London?" repeated Ford.  "London is a large
+town."
+
+"She has photographs of him and she knows where he spends his
+time," pleaded the doctor.  "He is a company promoter.  It should
+be easy for you."
+
+"Maybe he doesn't want her to find him," said Ford.  "Then it
+wouldn't be so easy for me."
+
+The old doctor sighed heavily.  "I know," he murmured.  "I thought
+of that, too.  And she is so very pretty."
+
+"That was another thing I noticed," said Ford.
+
+The doctor gave no heed.
+
+"She must stop worrying," he exclaimed, "or she will have a mental
+collapse.  I have tried sedatives, but they don't touch her.  I
+want to give her courage.  She is frightened.  She's left a baby
+boy at home, and she's fearful that something will happen to him,
+and she's frightened at being at sea, frightened at being alone in
+London; it's pitiful."  The old man shook his head.  "Pitiful!
+Will you talk to her now?" he asked.
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ford.  "She doesn't want to tell the story of
+her life to strange young men."
+
+"But it was she suggested it," cried the doctor.  "She asked me if
+you were Austin Ford, the great detective."
+
+Ford snorted scornfully.  "She did not!" he protested.  His tone
+was that of a man who hopes to be contradicted.
+
+"But she did," insisted the doctor, "and I told her your specialty
+was tracing persons.  Her face lightened at once; it gave her hope.
+She will listen to you.  Speak very gently and kindly and
+confidently.  Say you are sure you can find him."
+
+"Where is the lady now?" asked Ford.
+
+Doctor Sparrow scrambled eagerly to his feet.  "She cannot leave
+her cabin," he answered.
+
+The widow, as Ford and Doctor Sparrow still thought of her, was
+lying on the sofa that ran the length of the state-room, parallel
+with the lower berth.  She was fully dressed, except that instead
+of her bodice she wore a kimono that left her throat and arms bare.
+She had been sleeping, and when their entrance awoke her, her blue
+eyes regarded them uncomprehendingly.  Ford, hidden from her by the
+doctor, observed that not only was she very pretty, but that she
+was absurdly young, and that the drowsy smile she turned upon the
+old man before she noted the presence of Ford was as innocent as
+that of a baby.  Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brilliant, her
+yellow curls had become loosened and were spread upon the pillow.
+When she saw Ford she caught the kimono so closely around her
+throat that she choked.  Had the doctor not pushed her down she
+would have stood.
+
+"I thought," she stammered, "he was an OLD man."
+
+The doctor, misunderstanding, hastened to reassure her.  "Mr. Ford
+is old in experience," he said soothingly.  "He has had remarkable
+success.  Why, he found a criminal once just because the man wore a
+collar.  And he found Walsh, the burglar, and Phillips, the forger,
+and a gang of counterfeiters--"
+
+Mrs. Ashton turned upon him, her eyes wide with wonder.  "But MY
+husband," she protested, "is not a criminal!"
+
+"My dear lady!" the doctor cried.  "I did not mean that, of course
+not.  I meant, if Mr. Ford can find men who don't wish to be found,
+how easy for him to find a man who--"  He turned helplessly to
+Ford.  "You tell her," he begged.
+
+Ford sat down on a steamer trunk that protruded from beneath the
+berth, and, turning to the widow, gave her the full benefit of his
+working smile.  It was confiding, helpless, appealing.  It showed a
+trustfulness in the person to whom it was addressed that caused
+that individual to believe Ford needed protection from a wicked
+world.
+
+"Doctor Sparrow tells me," began Ford timidly, "you have lost your
+husband's address; that you will let me try to find him.  If I can
+help in any way I should be glad."
+
+The young girl regarded him, apparently, with disappointment.  It
+was as though Doctor Sparrow had led her to expect a man full of
+years and authority, a man upon whom she could lean; not a youth
+whose smile seemed to beg one not to scold him.  She gave Ford
+three photographs, bound together with a string.
+
+"When Doctor Sparrow told me you could help me I got out these,"
+she said.
+
+Ford jotted down a mental note to the effect that she "got them
+out."  That is, she did not keep them where she could always look
+at them.  That she was not used to look at them was evident by the
+fact that they were bound together.
+
+The first photograph showed three men standing in an open place and
+leaning on a railing.  One of them was smiling toward the
+photographer.  He was a good-looking young man of about thirty
+years of age, well fed, well dressed, and apparently well satisfied
+with the world and himself.  Ford's own smile had disappeared.  His
+eyes were alert and interested.
+
+"The one with the Panama hat pulled down over his eyes is your
+husband?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," assented the widow.  Her tone showed slight surprise.
+
+"This was taken about a year ago?" inquired Ford.  "Must have
+been," he answered himself; "they haven't raced at the Bay since
+then.  This was taken in front of the club stand--probably for the
+Telegraph?"  He lifted his eyes inquiringly.
+
+Rising on her elbow the young wife bent forward toward the
+photograph.  "Does it say that there," she asked doubtfully.  "How
+did you guess that?"
+
+In his role as chorus the ship's doctor exclaimed with enthusiasm:
+"Didn't I tell you?  He's wonderful."
+
+Ford cut him off impatiently.  "You never saw a rail as high as
+that except around a racetrack," he muttered.  "And the badge in
+his buttonhole and the angle of the stand all show--"
+
+He interrupted himself to address the widow.  "This is an owner's
+badge.  What was the name of his stable?"
+
+"I don't know," she answered.  She regarded the young man with
+sudden uneasiness.  "They only owned one horse, but I believe that
+gave them the privilege of--"
+
+"I see," exclaimed Ford.  "Your husband is a bookmaker.  But in
+London he is a promoter of companies."
+
+"So my friend tells me," said Mrs. Ashton.  "She's just got back
+from London.  Her husband told her that Harry, my husband, was
+always at the American bar in the Cecil or at the Salisbury or the
+Savoy."  The girl shook her head.  "But a woman can't go looking
+for a man there," she protested.  "That's, why I thought you--"
+
+"That'll be all right," Ford assured her hurriedly.  "It's a
+coincidence, but it happens that my own work takes me to these
+hotels, and if your husband is there I will find him."  He returned
+the photographs.
+
+"Hadn't you better keep one?" she asked.
+
+"I won't forget him," said the reporter.  "Besides"--he turned his
+eyes toward the doctor and, as though thinking aloud, said--"he may
+have grown a beard."
+
+There was a pause.
+
+The eyes of the woman grew troubled.  Her lips pressed together as
+though in a sudden access of pain.
+
+"And he may," Ford continued, "have changed his name."
+
+As though fearful, if she spoke, the tears would fall, the girl
+nodded her head stiffly.
+
+Having learned what he wanted to know Ford applied to the wound a
+soothing ointment of promises and encouragement.
+
+"He's as good as found," he protested.  "You will see him in a day,
+two days after you land."
+
+The girl's eyes opened happily.  She clasped her hands together and
+raised them.
+
+"You will try?" she begged.  "You will find him for me"--she
+corrected herself eagerly--"for me and the baby?"
+
+The loose sleeves of the kimono fell back to her shoulders showing
+the white arms; the eyes raised to Ford were glistening with tears.
+
+"Of course I will find him," growled the reporter.
+
+He freed himself from the appeal in the eyes of the young mother
+and left the cabin.  The doctor followed.  He was bubbling over
+with enthusiasm.
+
+"That was fine!" he cried.  "You said just the right thing.  There
+will be no collapse now."
+
+His satisfaction was swept away in a burst of disgust.
+
+"The blackguard!" he protested.  "To desert a wife as young as that
+and as pretty as that."
+
+"So I have been thinking," said the reporter.  "I guess, he added
+gravely, "what is going to happen is that before I find her husband
+I will have got to know him pretty well."
+
+Apparently, young Mrs. Ashton believed everything would come to
+pass just as Ford promised it would and as he chose to order it;
+for the next day, with a color not born of fever in her cheeks and
+courage in her eyes, she joined Ford and the doctor at the
+luncheon-table.  Her attention was concentrated on the younger man.
+In him she saw the one person who could bring her husband to her.
+
+"She acts," growled the doctor later in the smoking-room, "as
+though she was afraid you were going to back out of your promise
+and jump overboard."
+
+"Don't think," he protested violently, "it's you she's interested
+in.  All she sees in you is what you can do for her.  Can you see
+that?"
+
+"Any one as clever at seeing things as I am," returned the
+reporter, "cannot help but see that."
+
+Later, as Ford was walking on the upper deck, Mrs. Ashton came
+toward him, beating her way against the wind.  Without a trace of
+coquetry or self-consciousness, and with a sigh of content, she
+laid her hand on his arm.
+
+"When I don't see you," she exclaimed as simply as a child, "I feel
+so frightened.  When I see you I know all will come right.  Do you
+mind if I walk with you?" she asked.  "And do you mind if every now
+and then I ask you to tell me again it will all come right?"
+
+For the three days following Mrs. Ashton and Ford were constantly
+together.  Or, at least, Mrs. Ashton was constantly with Ford.  She
+told him that when she sat in her cabin the old fears returned to
+her, and in these moments of panic she searched the ship for him.
+
+The doctor protested that he was growing jealous.
+
+"I'm not so greatly to be envied," suggested Ford.  "'Harry' at
+meals three times a day and on deck all the rest of the day becomes
+monotonous.  On a closer acquaintance with Harry he seems to be a
+decent sort of a young man; at least he seems to have been at one
+time very much in love with her."
+
+"Well," sighed the doctor sentimentally, "she is certainly very
+much in love with Harry."
+
+Ford shook his head non-committingly.  "I don't know her story," he
+said.  "Don't want to know it."
+
+The ship was in the channel, on her way to Cherbourg, and running
+as smoothly as a clock.  From the shore friendly lights told them
+they were nearing their journey's end; that the land was on every
+side.  Seated on a steamer-chair next to his in the semi-darkness
+of the deck, Mrs. Ashton began to talk nervously and eagerly.
+
+"Now that we are so near," she murmured, "I have got to tell you
+something.  If you did not know I would feel I had not been fair.
+You might think that when you were doing so much for me I should
+have been more honest."
+
+She drew a long breath.  "It's so hard," she said.
+
+"Wait," commanded Ford.  "Is it going to help me to find him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then don't tell me."
+
+His tone caused the girl to start.  She leaned toward him and
+peered into his face.  His eyes, as he looked back to her, were
+kind and comprehending.
+
+"You mean," said the amateur detective, "that your husband has
+deserted you.  That if it were not for the baby you would not try
+to find him.  Is that it?"
+
+Mrs. Ashton breathed quickly and turned her face away.
+
+"Yes," she whispered.  "That is it."
+
+There was a long pause.  When she faced him again the fact that
+there was no longer a secret between them seemed to give her
+courage.
+
+"Maybe," she said, "you can understand.  Maybe you can tell me what
+it means.  I have thought and thought.  I have gone over it and
+over it until when I go back to it my head aches.  I have done
+nothing else but think, and I can't make it seem better.  I can't
+find any excuse.  I have had no one to talk to, no one I could
+tell.  I have thought maybe a man could understand."  She raised
+her eyes appealingly.
+
+"If you can only make it seem less cruel.  Don't you see," she
+cried miserably, "I want to believe; I want to forgive him.  I want
+to think he loves me.  Oh! I want so to be able to love him; but
+how can I?  I can't!   I can't!"
+
+In the week in which they had been thrown together the girl
+unconsciously had told Ford much about herself and her husband.
+What she now told him was but an amplification of what he had
+guessed.
+
+She had met Ashton a year and a half before, when she had just left
+school at the convent and had returned to live with her family.
+Her home was at Far Rockaway.  Her father was a cashier in a bank
+at Long Island City.  One night, with a party of friends, she had
+been taken to a dance at one of the beach hotels, and there met
+Ashton.  At that time he was one of a firm that was making book at
+the Aqueduct race-track.  The girl had met very few men and with
+them was shy and frightened, but with Ashton she found herself at
+once at ease.  That night he drove her and her friends home in his
+touring-car and the next day they teased her about her conquest.
+It made her very happy.  After that she went to hops at the hotel,
+and as the bookmaker did not dance, the two young people sat upon
+the piazza.  Then Ashton came to see her at her own house, but when
+her father learned that the young man who had been calling upon her
+was a bookmaker he told him he could not associate with his
+daughter.
+
+But the girl was now deeply in love with Ashton, and apparently he
+with her.  He begged her to marry him.  They knew that to this,
+partly from prejudice and partly owing to his position in the bank,
+her father would object.  Accordingly they agreed that in August,
+when the racing moved to Saratoga, they would run away and get
+married at that place.  Their plan was that Ashton would leave for
+Saratoga with the other racing men, and that she would join him the
+next day.
+
+They had arranged to be married by a magistrate, and Ashton had
+shown her a letter from one at Saratoga who consented to perform
+the ceremony.  He had given her an engagement ring and two thousand
+dollars, which he asked her to keep for him, lest tempted at the
+track he should lose it.
+
+But she assured Ford it was not such material things as a letter, a
+ring, or gift of money that had led her to trust Ashton.  His fear
+of losing her, his complete subjection to her wishes, his happiness
+in her presence, all seemed to prove that to make her happy was his
+one wish, and that he could do anything to make her unhappy
+appeared impossible.
+
+They were married the morning she arrived at Saratoga; and the same
+day departed for Niagara Falls and Quebec.  The honeymoon lasted
+ten days.  They were ten days of complete happiness.  No one, so
+the girl declared, could have been more kind, more unselfishly
+considerate than her husband.  They returned to Saratoga and
+engaged a suite of rooms at one of the big hotels.  Ashton was not
+satisfied with the rooms shown him, and leaving her upstairs
+returned to the office floor to ask for others.
+
+Since that moment his wife had never seen him nor heard from him.
+
+On the day of her marriage young Mrs. Ashton had written to her
+father, asking him to give her his good wishes and pardon.  He
+refused both.  As she had feared, he did not consider that for a
+bank clerk a gambler made a desirable son-in-law; and the letters
+he wrote his daughter were so bitter that in reply she informed him
+he had forced her to choose between her family and her husband, and
+that she chose her husband.  In consequence, when she found herself
+deserted she felt she could not return to her people.  She remained
+in Saratoga.  There she moved into cheap lodgings, and in order
+that the two thousand dollars Ashton had left with her might be
+saved for his child, she had learned to type-write, and after four
+months had been able to support herself.  Within the last month a
+girl friend, who had known both Ashton and herself before they were
+married, had written her that her husband was living in London.
+For the sake of her son she had at once determined to make an
+effort to seek him out.
+
+"The son, nonsense!" exclaimed the doctor, when Ford retold the
+story.  "She is not crossing the ocean because she is worried about
+the future of her son.  She seeks her own happiness.  The woman is
+in love with her husband."
+
+Ford shook his head.
+
+"I don't know!" he objected.  "She's so extravagant in her praise
+of Harry that it seems unreal.  It sounds insincere.  Then, again,
+when I swear I will find him she shows a delight that you might
+describe as savage, almost vindictive.  As though, if I did find
+Harry, the first thing she would do would be to stick a knife in
+him."
+
+"Maybe," volunteered the doctor sadly, "she has heard there is a
+woman in the case.  Maybe she is the one she's thinking of sticking
+the knife into?"
+
+"Well," declared the reporter, "if she doesn't stop looking savage
+every time I promise to find Harry I won't find Harry.  Why should
+I act the part of Fate, anyway?  How do I know that Harry hasn't
+got a wife in London and several in the States?  How do we know he
+didn't leave his country for his country's good?  That's what it
+looks like to me.  How can we tell what confronted him the day he
+went down to the hotel desk to change his rooms and, instead, got
+into his touring-car and beat the speed limit to Canada.  Whom did
+he meet in the hotel corridor?  A woman with a perfectly good
+marriage certificate, or a detective with a perfectly good warrant?
+Or did Harry find out that his bride had a devil of a temper of her
+own, and that for him marriage was a failure?  The widow is
+certainly a very charming young woman, but there may be two sides
+to this."
+
+"You are a cynic, sir," protested the doctor.
+
+"That may be," growled the reporter, "but I am not a private
+detective agency, or a matrimonial bureau, and before I hear myself
+saying, 'Bless you, my children!' both of these young people will
+have to show me why they should not be kept asunder."
+
+
+II
+
+
+On the afternoon of their arrival in London Ford convoyed Mrs.
+Ashton to an old-established private hotel in Craven Street.
+
+"Here," he explained, "you will be within a few hundred yards of
+the place in which your husband is said to spend his time.  I will
+be living in the same hotel.  If I find him you will know it in ten
+minutes."
+
+The widow gave a little gasp, whether of excitement or of happiness
+Ford could not determine.
+
+"Whatever happens," she begged.  "will you let me hear from you
+sometimes?  You are the only person I know in London--and--it's so
+big it frightens me.  I don't want to be a burden," she went on
+eagerly, "but if I can feel you are within call--"
+
+"What you need," said Ford heartily, "is less of the doctor's nerve
+tonic and sleeping draughts, and a little innocent diversion.  To-
+night I am going to take you to the Savoy to supper."
+
+Mrs. Ashton exclaimed delightedly, and then was filled with
+misgivings.
+
+"I have nothing to wear," she protested, "and over here, in the
+evening, the women dress so well.  I have a dinner gown," she
+exclaimed, "but it's black.  Would that do?"
+
+Ford assured her nothing could be better.  He had a man's vanity in
+liking a woman with whom he was seen in public to be pretty and
+smartly dressed, and he felt sure that in black the blond beauty of
+Mrs. Ashton would appear to advantage.  They arranged to meet at
+eleven on the promenade leading to the Savoy supper-room, and
+parted with mutual satisfaction at the prospect.
+
+
+The finding of Harry Ashton was so simple that in its very
+simplicity it appeared spectacular.
+
+On leaving Mrs. Ashton, Ford engaged rooms at the Hotel Cecil.
+Before visiting his rooms he made his way to the American bar.  He
+did not go there seeking Harry Ashton.  His object was entirely
+self-centred.  His purpose was to drink to himself and to the
+lights of London.  But as though by appointment, the man he had
+promised to find was waiting for him.  As Ford entered the room, at
+a table facing the door sat Ashton.  There was no mistaking him.
+He wore a mustache, but it was no disguise.  He was the same good-
+natured, good-looking youth who, in the photograph from under a
+Panama hat, had smiled upon the world.  With a glad cry Ford rushed
+toward him.
+
+"Fancy meeting YOU!" he exclaimed.
+
+Mr. Ashton's good-natured smile did not relax.  He merely shook his
+head.
+
+"Afraid you have made a mistake," he said.  The reporter regarded
+him blankly.  His face showed his disappointment.
+
+"Aren't you Charles W. Garrett, of New York?" he demanded.
+
+"Not me," said Mr. Ashton.
+
+"But," Ford insisted in hurt tones, as though he were being trifled
+with, "you have been told you look like him, haven't you?"
+
+Mr. Ashton's good nature was unassailable.
+
+"Sorry," he declared, "never heard of him."
+
+Ford became garrulous, he could not believe two men could look so
+much alike.  It was a remarkable coincidence.  The stranger must
+certainly have a drink, the drink intended for his twin.  Ashton
+was bored, but accepted.  He was well acquainted with the easy
+good-fellowship of his countrymen.  The room in which he sat was a
+meeting-place for them.  He considered that they were always giving
+each other drinks, and not only were they always introducing
+themselves, but saying, "Shake hands with my friend, Mr. So-and-
+So."  After five minutes they showed each other photographs of the
+children.  This one, though as loquacious as the others, seemed
+better dressed, more "wise"; he brought to the exile the atmosphere
+of his beloved Broadway, so Ashton drank to him pleasantly.
+
+"My name is Sydney Carter," he volunteered.
+
+As a poker-player skims over the cards in his hand, Ford, in his
+mind's eye, ran over the value of giving or not giving his right
+name.  He decided that Ashton would not have heard it and that, if
+he gave a false one, there was a chance that later Ashton might
+find out that he had done so.  Accordingly he said, "Mine is Austin
+Ford," and seated himself at Ashton's table.  Within ten minutes
+the man he had promised to pluck from among the eight million
+inhabitants of London was smiling sympathetically at his jests and
+buying a drink.
+
+On the steamer Ford had rehearsed the story with which, should he
+meet Ashton, he would introduce himself.  It was one arranged to
+fit with his theory that Ashton was a crook.  If Ashton were a
+crook Ford argued that to at once ingratiate himself in his good
+graces he also must be a crook.  His plan was to invite Ashton to
+co-operate with him in some scheme that was openly dishonest.  By
+so doing he hoped apparently to place himself at Ashton's mercy.
+He believed if he could persuade Ashton he was more of a rascal
+than Ashton himself, and an exceedingly stupid rascal, any distrust
+the bookmaker might feel toward him would disappear.  He made his
+advances so openly, and apparently showed his hand so carelessly,
+that, from being bored, Ashton became puzzled, then interested; and
+when Ford insisted he should dine with him, he considered it so
+necessary to find out who the youth might be who was forcing
+himself upon him that he accepted the invitation.
+
+They adjourned to dress and an hour later, at Ford's suggestion,
+they met at the Carlton.  There Ford ordered a dinner calculated to
+lull his newly made friend into a mood suited to confidence, but
+which had on Ashton exactly the opposite effect.  Merely for the
+pleasure of his company, utter strangers were not in the habit of
+treating him to strawberries in February, and vintage champagne;
+and, in consequence, in Ford's hospitality he saw only cause for
+suspicion.  If, as he had first feared, Ford was a New York
+detective, it was most important he should know that.  No one
+better than Ashton understood that, at that moment, his presence in
+New York meant, for the police, unalloyed satisfaction, and for
+himself undisturbed solitude.  But Ford was unlike any detective of
+his acquaintance; and his acquaintance had been extensive.  It was
+true Ford was familiar with all the habits of Broadway and the
+Tenderloin.  Of places with which Ashton was intimate, and of men
+with whom Ashton had formerly been well acquainted, he talked
+glibly.  But, if he were a detective, Ashton considered, they
+certainly had improved the class.
+
+The restaurant into which for the first time Ashton had penetrated,
+and in which he felt ill at ease, was to Ford, he observed, a
+matter of course.  Evidently for Ford it held no terrors.  He
+criticised the service, patronized the head waiters, and grumbled
+at the food; and when, on leaving the restaurant, an Englishman and
+his wife stopped at their table to greet him, he accepted their
+welcome to London without embarrassment.
+
+Ashton, rolling his cigar between his lips, observed the incident
+with increasing bewilderment.
+
+"You've got some swell friends," he growled.  "I'll bet you never
+met THEM at Healey's!"
+
+"I meet all kinds of people in my business," said Ford.  "I once
+sold that man some mining stock, and the joke of it was," he added,
+smiling knowingly, "it turned out to be good."
+
+Ashton decided that the psychological moment had arrived.
+
+"What IS your business?" he asked.
+
+"I'm a company promoter," said Ford easily.  "I thought I told
+you."
+
+"I did not tell you that I was a company promoter, too, did I?"
+demanded Ashton.
+
+"No," answered Ford, with apparent surprise.  "Are you?  That's
+funny."
+
+Ashton watched for the next move, but the subject seemed in no way
+to interest Ford.  Instead of following it up he began afresh.
+
+"Have you any money lying idle?" he asked abruptly.  "About a
+thousand pounds."
+
+Ashton recognized that the mysterious stranger was about to
+disclose both himself and whatever object he had in seeking him
+out.  He cast a quick glance about him.
+
+"I can always find money," he said guardedly.  "What's the
+proposition?"
+
+With pretended nervousness Ford leaned forward and began the story
+he had rehearsed.  It was a new version of an old swindle and to
+every self-respecting confidence man was well known as the "sick
+engineer" game.  The plot is very simple.  The sick engineer is
+supposed to be a mining engineer who, as an expert, has examined a
+gold mine and reported against it.  For his services the company
+paid him partly in stock.  He falls ill and is at the point of
+death.  While he has been ill much gold has been found in the mine
+he examined, and the stock which he considers worthless is now
+valuable.  Of this, owing to his illness, he is ignorant.  One
+confidence man acts the part of the sick engineer, and the other
+that of a broker who knows the engineer possesses the stock but has
+no money with which to purchase it from him.  For a share of the
+stock he offers to tell the dupe where it and the engineer can be
+found.  They visit the man, apparently at the point of death, and
+the dupe gives him money for his stock.  Later the dupe finds the
+stock is worthless, and the supposed engineer and the supposed
+broker divide the money he paid for it.  In telling the story Ford
+pretended he was the broker and that he thought in Ashton he had
+found a dupe who would buy the stock from the sick engineer.
+
+As the story unfolded and Ashton appreciated the part Ford expected
+him to play in it, his emotions were so varied that he was in
+danger of apoplexy.  Amusement, joy, chagrin, and indignation
+illuminated his countenance.  His cigar ceased to burn, and with
+his eyes opened wide he regarded Ford in pitying wonder.
+
+"Wait!" he commanded.  He shook his head uncomprehendingly.  "Tell
+me," he asked, "do I look as easy as that, or are you just
+naturally foolish?"
+
+Ford pretended to fall into a state of great alarm.
+
+"I don't understand," he stammered.
+
+"Why, son," exclaimed Ashton kindly, "I was taught that story in
+the public schools.  I invented it.  I stopped using it before you
+cut your teeth.  Gee!" he exclaimed delightedly.  "I knew I had
+grown respectable-looking, but I didn't think I was so damned
+respectable-looking as that!"  He began to laugh silently; so
+greatly was he amused that the tears shone in his eyes and his
+shoulders shook.
+
+"I'm sorry for you, son," he protested, "but that's the funniest
+thing that's come my way in two years.  And you buying me hot-house
+grapes, too, and fancy water!  I wish you could see your face," he
+taunted.
+
+Ford pretended to be greatly chagrined.
+
+"All right," he declared roughly.  "The laugh's on me this time,
+but just because I lost one trick, don't think I don't know my
+business.  Now that I'm wise to what YOU are we can work together
+and--"
+
+The face of young Mr. Ashton became instantly grave.  His jaws
+snapped like a trap.  When he spoke his tone was assured and
+slightly contemptuous.
+
+"Not with ME you can't work!" he said.
+
+"Don't think because I fell down on this," Ford began hotly.
+
+"I'm not thinking of you at all," said Ashton.  "You're a nice
+little fellow all right, but you have sized me up wrong.  I am on
+the 'straight and narrow' that leads back to little old New York
+and God's country, and I am warranted not to run off my trolley."
+
+The words were in the vernacular, but the tone in which the young
+man spoke rang so confidently that it brought to Ford a pleasant
+thrill of satisfaction.  From the first he had found in the
+personality of the young man something winning and likable; a
+shrewd manliness and tolerant good-humor.  His eyes may have shown
+his sympathy, for, in sudden confidence, Ashton leaned nearer.
+
+"It's like this," he said.  "Several years ago I made a bad break
+and, about a year later, they got on to me and I had to cut and
+run.  In a month the law of limitation lets me loose and I can go
+back.  And you can bet I'm GOING back.  I will be on the bowsprit
+of the first boat.  I've had all I want of the 'fugitive-from-
+justice' game, thank you, and I have taken good care to keep a
+clean bill of health so that I won't have to play it again.
+They've been trying to get me for several years--especially the
+Pinkertons.  They have chased me all over Europe.  Chased me with
+all kinds of men; sometimes with women; they've tried everything
+except blood-hounds.  At first I thought YOU were a 'Pink,' that's
+why--"
+
+"I!" interrupted Ford, exploding derisively.  "That's GOOD!  That's
+one on YOU." He ceased laughing and regarded Ashton kindly.  "How
+do you know I'm not?" he asked.
+
+For an instant the face of the bookmaker grew a shade less red and
+his eyes searched those of Ford in a quick agony of suspicion.
+Ford continued to smile steadily at him, and Ashton breathed with
+relief.
+
+"I'll take a chance with you," he said, "and if you are as bad a
+detective as you are a sport I needn't worry."
+
+They both laughed, and, with sudden mutual liking, each raised his
+glass and nodded.
+
+"But they haven't got me yet," continued Ashton, "and unless they
+get me in the next thirty days I'm free.  So you needn't think that
+I'll help you.  It's 'never again' for me.  The first time, that
+was the fault of the crowd I ran with; the second time, that would
+be MY fault.  And there ain't going to be any second time."
+
+He shook his head doggedly, and with squared shoulders leaned back
+in his chair.
+
+"If it only breaks right for me," he declared, "I'll settle down in
+one of those 'Own-your own-homes,' forty-five minutes from
+Broadway, and never leave the wife and the baby."
+
+The words almost brought Ford to his feet.  He had forgotten the
+wife and the baby.  He endeavored to explain his surprise by a
+sudden assumption of incredulity.
+
+"Fancy you married!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Married!" protested Ashton.  "I'm married to the finest little
+lady that ever wore skirts, and in thirty-seven days I'll see her
+again.  Thirty-seven days," he repeated impatiently.  "Gee!  That's
+a hell of a long time!"
+
+Ford studied the young man with increased interest.  That he was
+speaking sincerely, from the heart, there seemed no possible doubt.
+
+Ashton frowned and his face clouded.  "I've not been able to treat
+her just right," he volunteered.  "If she wrote me, the letters
+might give them a clew, and I don't write HER because I don't want
+her to know all my troubles until they're over.  But I know," he
+added, "that five minutes' talk will set it all right.  That is, if
+she still feels about me the way I feel about her."
+
+The man crushed his cigar in his fingers and threw the pieces on
+the floor.  "That's what's been the worst!" he exclaimed bitterly.
+"Not hearing, not knowing.  It's been hell!"
+
+His eyes as he raised them were filled with suffering, deep and
+genuine.
+
+Ford rose suddenly.  "Let's go down to the Savoy for supper," he
+said.
+
+"Supper!" growled Ashton.  "What's the use of supper?  Do you
+suppose cold chicken and a sardine can keep me from THINKING?"
+
+Ford placed his hand on the other's shoulder.
+
+"You come with me," he said kindly.  "I'm going to do you a favor.
+I'm going to bring you a piece of luck.  Don't ask me any
+questions," he commanded hurriedly.  "Just take my word for it."
+
+They had sat so late over their cigars that when they reached the
+restaurant on the Embankment the supper-room was already partly
+filled, and the corridors and lounge were brilliantly lit and gay
+with well-dressed women.  Ashton regarded the scene with gloomy
+eyes.  Since he had spoken of his wife he had remained silent,
+chewing savagely on a fresh cigar.  But Ford was grandly excited.
+He did not know exactly what he intended to do.  He was prepared to
+let events direct themselves, but of two things he was assured:
+Mrs. Ashton loved her husband, and her husband loved her.  As the
+god in the car who was to bring them together, he felt a delightful
+responsibility.
+
+The young men left the coat-room and came down the short flight of
+steps that leads to the wide lounge of the restaurant.  Ford
+slightly in advance, searching with his eyes for Mrs Ashton, found
+her seated alone in the lounge, evidently waiting for him.  At the
+first glance she was hardly be recognized.  Her low-cut dinner gown
+of black satin that clung to her like a wet bath robe was the last
+word of the new fashion; and since Ford had seen her her blond hair
+had been arranged by an artist.  Her appearance was smart, elegant,
+daring.  She was easily the prettiest and most striking-looking
+woman in the room, and for an instant Ford stood gazing at her,
+trying to find in the self-possessed young woman the deserted wife
+of the steamer.  She did not see Ford.  Her eyes were following the
+progress down the hall of a woman, and her profile was toward him.
+
+The thought of the happiness he was about to bring to two young
+people gave Ford the sense of a genuine triumph, and when he turned
+to Ashton to point out his wife to him he was thrilling with pride
+and satisfaction.  His triumph received a bewildering shock.
+Already Ashton had discovered the presence of Mrs. Ashton.  He was
+standing transfixed, lost to his surroundings, devouring her with
+his eyes.  And then, to the amazement of Ford, his eyes filled with
+fear, doubt, and anger.  Swiftly, with the movement of a man
+ducking a blow, he turned and sprang up the stairs and into the
+coat-room.  Ford, bewildered and more conscious of his
+surroundings, followed him less quickly, and was in consequence
+only in time to see Ashton, dragging his overcoat behind him,
+disappear into the court-yard.  He seized his own coat and raced in
+pursuit.  As he ran into the court-yard Ashton, in the Strand, was
+just closing the door of a taxicab, but before the chauffeur could
+free it from the surrounding traffic, Ford had dragged the door
+open, and leaped inside.  Ashton was huddled in the corner,
+panting, his face pale with alarm.
+
+"What the devil ails you?" roared Ford.  "Are you trying to shake
+me?  You've got to come back.  You must speak to her."
+
+"Speak to her!" repeated Ashton.  His voice was sunk to a whisper.
+The look of alarm in his face was confused with one grim and
+menacing.  "Did you know she was there?" he demanded softly.  "Did
+you take me there, knowing--?"
+
+"Of course I knew," protested Ford.  "She's been looking for you--"
+
+His voice subsided in a squeak of amazement and pain.  Ashton's
+left hand had shot out and swiftly seized his throat.  With the
+other he pressed an automatic revolver against Ford's shirt front.
+
+"I know she's been looking for me," the man whispered thickly.
+"For two years she's been looking for me.  I know all about HER!
+But, WHO IN HELL ARE YOU?"
+
+Ford, gasping and gurgling, protested loyally.
+
+"You are wrong!" he cried.  "She's been at home waiting for you.
+She thinks you have deserted her and your baby.  I tell you she
+loves you, you fool, she LOVES you!"
+
+The fingers on his throat suddenly relaxed; the flaming eyes of
+Ashton, glaring into his, wavered and grew wide with amazement.
+
+"Loves me," he whispered.  "WHO loves me?"
+
+"Your wife," protested Ford; "the girl at the Savoy, your wife."
+
+Again the fingers of Ashton pressed deep around his neck.
+
+"That is not my wife," he whispered.  His voice was unpleasantly
+cold and grim.  "That's 'Baby Belle,' with her hair dyed, a
+detective lady of the Pinkertons, hired to find me.  And YOU know
+it.  Now, who are YOU?"
+
+To permit him to reply Ashton released his hand, but at the same
+moment, in a sudden access of fear, dug the revolver deeper into
+the pit of Ford's stomach.
+
+"Quick!" he commanded.  "Never mind the girl.  WHO ARE YOU?"
+
+Ford collapsed against the cushioned corner of the cab.  "And she
+begged me to find you," he roared, "because she LOVED you, because
+she wanted to BELIEVE in you!"  He held his arms above his head.
+"Go ahead and shoot!" he cried.  "You want to know who I am?" he
+demanded.  His voice rang with rage.  "I'm an amateur.  Just a
+natural born fool-amateur!  Go on and shoot!"
+
+The gun in Ashton's hand sank to his knee.  Between doubt and
+laughter his face was twisted in strange lines.  The cab was
+whirling through a narrow, unlit street leading to Covent Garden.
+Opening the door Ashton called to the chauffeur, and then turned to
+Ford.
+
+"You get off here!" he commanded.  "Maybe you're a 'Pink,' maybe
+you're a good fellow.  I think you're a good fellow, but I'm not
+taking any chances.  Get out!"
+
+Ford scrambled to the street, and as the taxicab again butted
+itself forward, Ashton leaned far through the window.  "Good-by,
+son," he called.  "Send me a picture-postal card to Paris.  For I
+am off to Maxim's," he cried, "and you can go to--"
+
+"Not at all!" shouted the amateur detective indignantly.  "I'm
+going back to take supper with 'Baby Belle'!"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext The Amateur, by Richard Harding Davis
+
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