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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Lion's Mouse, by C. N. Williamson and A.
+M. Williamson, Illustrated by Harry Stacey Benton
+
+
+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 Lion's Mouse
+
+
+Author: C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
+
+
+
+Release Date: July 4, 2007  [eBook #21998]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S MOUSE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustration.
+      See 21998-h.htm or 21998-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/9/21998/21998-h/21998-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/9/21998/21998-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LION'S MOUSE
+
+by
+
+C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON
+
+Frontispiece By Harry Stacey Benton
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Garden City New York
+Doubleday, Page & Company
+1919
+
+Copyright, 1919, by
+C. N. & A. M. Williamson
+All Rights Reserved, Including That of Translation into Foreign
+Languages, Including the Scandinavian
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a
+young and beautiful woman hovering at the door._
+
+_'Oh, do help me!' she said._]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+       I. THE LION
+
+      II. THE NET
+
+     III. THE MOUSE
+
+      IV. THE MURMUR OF THE STORM
+
+       V. ON THE WAY TO THE CAR
+
+      VI. THE PARCEL WITH THE GOLD SEALS
+
+     VII. THE QUEEN'S PEARLS
+
+    VIII. BEVERLEY TALKS
+
+      IX. THE BLUFF THAT FAILED
+
+       X. THE BLUFF THAT WON
+
+      XI. O'REILLY'S WAISTCOAT POCKET
+
+     XII. THE HORIZONTAL PANEL
+
+    XIII. "THERE CAN BE NO BARGAIN"
+
+     XIV. THE STONE COPING
+
+      XV. THE NUMBER SEVENTEEN
+
+     XVI. A QUOTATION FROM SHAKESPEARE
+
+    XVII. THE MYSTERY OF THE BOUDOIR
+
+   XVIII. DEFEAT
+
+     XIX. THE BROWN TRUNK
+
+      XX. MURDER
+
+     XXI. "KIT!"
+
+    XXII. THE VOICE THAT DID NOT SEEM STRANGE
+
+   XXIII. "WHAT'S DONE CAN'T BE UNDONE"
+
+    XXIV. ROGER'S APPOINTMENT AT THE CLUB
+
+     XXV. KRANTZ'S KELLER
+
+    XXVI. THE GIRL IN PINK
+
+   XXVII. WHEN BEVERLEY CAME HOME
+
+  XXVIII. MR. JONES OF PEORIA
+
+    XXIX. ACCORDING TO THE MORNING PAPERS
+
+     XXX. WHAT CLO DID WITH A KNIFE
+
+    XXXI. THE NINE DAYS
+
+   XXXII. "STEPHEN'S DEAD!"
+
+  XXXIII. THE PATCH ON THE PILLOW
+
+   XXXIV. TRAPPED
+
+    XXXV. THE TIME LIMIT OF HOPE
+
+   XXXVI. "WE DO THINGS QUICKLY OVER HERE"
+
+  XXXVII. THE TELEGRAM
+
+ XXXVIII. WHO IS STEPHEN?
+
+   XXXIX. ON THE ROAD TO NEWPORT
+
+
+
+
+THE LION'S MOUSE
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE LION
+
+
+Roger Sands had steel-gray eyes, a straight black line of brows drawn
+low and nearly meeting above them, thick black hair lightly powdered
+with silver at the temples, and a clean-shaven, aggressive chin. He had
+the air of being hard as nails. Most people, including women, thought
+him hard as nails. He thought it of himself, and gloried in his armour,
+never more than on a certain September day, when resting in the Santa Fé
+Limited, tearing back to New York after a giant's tussle in California.
+But--it was hot weather, and he had left the stateroom door open.
+Everything that followed came--from this.
+
+Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a woman hovering,
+rather than standing, at the door. At his look she started away, then
+stopped.
+
+"Oh, do help me!" she said.
+
+She was young and very beautiful. He couldn't stare quite as coldly as
+he ought.
+
+"What can I do for you?" was the question he asked.
+
+He had hardly opened his mouth before she flashed into the stateroom and
+shut the door.
+
+"There's a man.... I'm afraid!"
+
+Though she was young and girlish, and spoke impulsively, there was
+something oddly regal about her. Princesses and girl-queens ought to be
+of her type; tall and very slim, with gracious, sloping shoulders and a
+long throat, the chin slightly lifted: pale, with great appealing violet
+eyes under haughty brows, and quantities of yellow-brown hair dressed in
+some sort of Madonna style.
+
+"You needn't be afraid," he said. "Men aren't allowed to insult ladies
+in trains."
+
+"This man hasn't insulted me in an ordinary way. But I'm in dreadful
+danger. American men are good to women, even strangers. You can save my
+life, if you will--or more than my life. But there's only one way." Her
+words came fast, on panting breaths, as though she had been running. The
+girl had stood at first, her hand on the door-knob, but losing her
+balance with a jerk of the train, she let herself fall into the seat.
+There she sat with her head thrown wearily back, her eyes appealing to
+the eyes that looked down at her.
+
+A queer fancy ran through the man's brain. He imagined that a woman
+being tried for her life might look at the judge with just that
+expression. "What do you mean?" asked Sands.
+
+He had resisted the jerk of the train, and was still on his feet.
+Instead of answering his question, the girl begged him to sit down.
+
+"I can't think properly while it seems as if you were waiting to turn me
+out," she said.
+
+Sands sat down.
+
+"I hardly know how to tell you what I mean. I hardly dare," the voice
+went on, while he wondered. "It's a tremendous thing to ask. I can't
+explain ... and if I hesitate it will be too late. I don't know your
+name, or your character, except what I judge from your face. The way to
+save me is to keep me in this stateroom with the door shut, as far as
+Chicago."
+
+"Good heavens! That's...." Sands was going to end his sentence with
+"absolutely impossible!" But he stopped in the midst. Her eyes made him
+stop. It was as if he were pronouncing a death sentence. He was silent
+for a few seconds.
+
+"I'd have to say ... no, I could not say you were my wife, because
+everyone knows I've not got a wife. I'll say you are my cousin: say
+you've come late. I want you to have this stateroom, and I'll take
+another ... or a section. I--I could do that."
+
+"Will you?" she breathed.
+
+"Yes. I will."
+
+He said this almost sullenly. He was thinking: "Pretty smart new dodge!
+Neat way to get a stateroom all the way from Albuquerque to Chicago."
+
+"I'll go out now and fix things up with the conductor," he promised. "We
+must settle on a story. You came on board at Albuquerque just now?"
+
+"Yes. The last minute before the train started. I have a berth in this
+car. I thought I was safe, that everything was right for me. Then I saw
+the man ... not the one I expected; worse. He wasn't in this car, but
+the next. I saw him standing there. He was looking at some ladies
+passing through. One had on deep mourning, and a crepe veil. Perhaps he
+believed it was I. I turned and rushed this way. Your door was open, and
+you ... you looked like a real man. That's all."
+
+"What about your baggage?"
+
+"I have nothing. I ... was in a hurry."
+
+"In what name did you make your reservation?"
+
+"Miss Beverley White. White isn't my real name: Beverley is ... one of
+my names. I can't tell you more."
+
+"All right. The porter will get some toilet things for my cousin whom
+I'm to chaperon from Albuquerque to Chicago, and who nearly missed the
+train owing to illness. He'll bring your meals in, as you're not able to
+leave your stateroom."
+
+"That's what I'd have asked," she said. "I may trust the porter?"
+
+"The porter knows me. Your idea is," he went on, his hand on the door,
+"that the man you don't want to see will try pretty hard to see you?"
+
+"Yes. When he searches the train and can't find me (I'm sure he's begun
+the search already) he can't be certain I'm on board, but he won't give
+up easily. If the deepest gratitude----"
+
+"I don't need consolation. Any other instructions to give before I leave
+you?"
+
+"No. Yes ... there's one thing. Will you take charge of a very small
+parcel? I daren't keep it myself, in case anything unexpected should
+happen.
+
+"It is inside my dress," the girl explained. For an instant she turned
+her back, then, rebuttoning her blouse with one hand, held out to him in
+the other a long, thick envelope, unaddressed, and sealed with three
+gold-coloured seals. Roger took the parcel.
+
+"You see how I trust you," she said. "This packet is the most valuable
+thing I have in the world, yet I feel it is safe."
+
+"You told me you didn't know my name. But if I'm your cousin you'd
+better know it. I'm Roger Sands----"
+
+"Roger Sands, the great--what is the word?--corporation lawyer? The man
+who saved the California Oil Trust king?" She looked surprised, almost
+frightened.
+
+"It isn't a 'Trust,' or I couldn't have saved him. That was just the
+point."
+
+"How lucky I am to have such a man stand by me! For you will?"
+
+He slipped the long envelope into an inside breast pocket of his gray
+tweed coat. "It's as safe there as in a bank," he assured her. "Now I'll
+go and make everything straight. If you want me, you've only to ring for
+the porter and send me word. I won't come till you do send."
+
+Whether or no her terror was justified, Roger resolved to give it the
+benefit of the doubt. Instead of trying to secure another stateroom, he
+would try to get a section close to Stateroom A, in order to play
+watch-dog.
+
+It wasn't difficult to do. The section he wanted was engaged from the
+next stopping place, but an exchange could be made. The Pullman car
+conductor took it upon himself to attend to that. Sands' suitcase, coat,
+and magazines were arranged on both seats, and he sat down to keep
+guard. The porter had been told that Miss White wasn't to be disturbed
+unless she rang, except at meal times, when he--Sands--would choose
+dishes from the menu and send a waiter from the dining-car.
+
+A few toilet things were somehow procured by the negro, and handed into
+Stateroom A, with a contribution of novels, magazines, and a box of
+chocolates, from Miss White's cousin.
+
+Night, Roger realized, would be the dangerous time, if danger there was,
+and he decided not to sleep. Lying awake wasn't, after all, very
+difficult, for the portrait of the girl was painted on Roger's mind. He
+saw things in that portrait he'd seen but subconsciously in the
+original. He thought that her beauty was of the type which would shine
+like the moon, set off with wonderful clothes and jewels. And from that
+thought it was only a step to picture the joy of giving such clothes and
+jewels. The man was surprised and ashamed to find himself thrilling like
+a boy.
+
+Daylight released him from duty. He dressed, and had his section made
+up. Though all peril--if any--had vanished with the night, Roger
+couldn't bring himself to leave his post for breakfast until he saw the
+porter tap at the door of Stateroom A in answer to a ring.
+
+"I hope Miss White's feeling better," he said to the negro, when the
+door shut once more.
+
+"Yes, sah, she wants her room fixed up. Ah'm gwan do it raight now, but
+Ah'm bound to give yuh the lady's message fust. She thought you'd like
+to heah she's mighty well, considerin'. An' she'll thank yuh, suh, to
+order her some coffee an' toast."
+
+Roger added cantaloupe to the order, and a cereal with cream. The
+mysterious girl hidden in his stateroom was no longer an adventuress,
+sponging on his idiotic generosity: she was an exquisite, almost a
+sacred, charge. As he ate his breakfast in the dining-car he saw a man
+he knew sitting directly opposite him at the next table. Their eyes
+encountered. Roger felt that the other had been staring at him and
+hadn't had time to look away. He bowed, and paused at the table which he
+was obliged to pass on his way out.
+
+"How do you do, O'Reilly?" he said, with a slight stiffness. He would
+have preferred to walk past with no more than the nod, but in that case
+the man would believe his late absent-mindedness had been deliberate.
+Roger didn't wish to leave this impression. Justin O'Reilly was nearly
+ten years younger than he, but had got the better of him once, and not
+long ago. Sands was too proud to let it seem as if the memory rankled.
+
+O'Reilly rose and shook the offered hand. He was tall and lean, and
+brown-faced as a soldier back from the war. He had a boyish air, younger
+than his thirty-one or thirty-two years: but under that look was the
+same sort of hardness and keenness which was the first thing a stranger
+noticed about Sands.
+
+"I'd no idea you were out west."
+
+"It's been a flying trip," O'Reilly answered.
+
+"Queer I missed seeing you before. Suppose you've been on board since
+Los Angeles?"
+
+"I caught sight of you last night for the first time," said the other.
+"I'm not in your car, and I've been resting up. I came on board tired.
+One usually does come on board tired!"
+
+"Yes," said Roger. "Well, we shall knock up against each other now and
+then, here in the diner."
+
+"Sure to. I shall be spending a few days in New York before Washington,"
+O'Reilly volunteered.
+
+"Right! But don't let your coffee get cold for me." Roger passed on.
+
+If his thoughts had not been focussed on the occupant of Stateroom A he
+would have wondered a good deal as to what had taken Justin O'Reilly on
+a "flying trip" west. This was O'Reilly's first year in Congress, and
+he'd manoeuvred to make himself a conspicuous figure in Washington one
+way or other. His own present interests could not, Roger thought, be
+interfered with by Justin O'Reilly. The man was a Democrat, and opposed
+on principle to the cause of John Heron, whom Miss White had called the
+"California Oil Trust King": but personally the two were friends, even
+distantly related, and O'Reilly would wish to do Heron no secret injury.
+
+When he got back to his own car Sands found the porter waiting.
+
+"Lady's through breakfus, suh, and would like to see yuh w'en
+convenient," was the message: and two seconds later Stateroom A's
+rightful owner was humbly knocking at the door.
+
+The girl's beauty struck the man anew as she smiled him a welcome. She
+was as well groomed as if she had had a lady's maid.
+
+"Has anything happened? Have you had any trouble on my account?" she
+inquired.
+
+When Roger said no, nothing had happened, she drew a breath of relief.
+
+"No one in any way noticeable has tried to get acquainted with you?"
+
+"The conductor and porter and a waiter or two are the only persons I've
+exchanged a word with--except a fellow I know slightly, named O'Reilly,
+a Congressman from California. I suppose he doesn't interest you?"
+
+"No man interests me ... unless the one who is saving my life," the girl
+answered surprisingly. As she spoke, a wave of rose-colour poured over
+her face, and she turned quickly away in confusion. Roger felt that she
+had blurted it out, scarcely knowing what she said until too late.
+Instead of liking her less, he liked her better. He brought forth the
+envelope to show. It had been under his pillow all night, he told her.
+
+"I don't know what I should have done without you!" she said, with a
+gratitude that was almost humble. There'd be a certain blankness, Roger
+couldn't help seeing, when the time came to do without _her_!
+
+"When we get to Chicago," he asked, "how can I help you there?"
+
+"Oh, I expect to be met by a friend. I suppose I shan't see you again:
+but I shall never forget."
+
+Roger Sands felt a horrid twinge of some unpleasant emotion. He loathed
+the "friend" who would take the girl away from him.
+
+"But Chicago's a long way off," she said when he did not speak. "It must
+seem a wild story to you, but the danger I'm in ... the danger that this
+envelope is in ... won't be over for one minute till you've put me into
+my friend's hands. You will do that, won't you? You'll see me through
+till the last?"
+
+"I will," said Roger.
+
+"And meanwhile you'll come and call on me in the stateroom sometimes if
+you don't mind?"
+
+Roger smiled. A silver lining began to glimmer through the cloud.
+
+By good luck he knew no one on board save O'Reilly, who fortunately was
+in another car, and he hoped that few people knew him. He could not
+resist her invitation. He began by deciding to spend a half hour with
+his "invalid cousin" now and again. As through the veil of beauty he
+caught glimpses of something like character within, Roger felt that the
+mystery thickened.
+
+The inevitable moment came. The porter was brushing men's hats and
+coats. Suitcases were being fastened up. The Limited was slowing down in
+the big station. Then, and not till then, did Miss White show herself at
+the door of Stateroom A. Sands, who had knocked to tell her that she had
+better come out, was waiting to guard her for the last time. Neither had
+much to say. The hope of haven had not raised the girl's spirits. As
+Sands gave her a hand, stepping on to the platform, he saw Justin
+O'Reilly, already out of the train and looking about with the air of
+expecting someone. O'Reilly took off his hat, with an unnecessarily
+cordial smile for Sands. At heart they were enemies. Roger took the
+smile to mean amusement at sight of his companion. He felt annoyed. Miss
+White was looking straight ahead, a brilliant colour staining the cheeks
+usually pale.
+
+The rendezvous, she had explained to him, was at a news stand. "There!"
+she said, "that is where he will be. There's such a crowd, I can't see
+him yet."
+
+They neared the news stand, and as "Miss White" was a tall girl whose
+head could be seen above the hats of average women, he expected a man to
+start eagerly forward. But no man separated himself from the crowd. She
+was beginning to look anxious: there was no flush on her cheeks now.
+
+"Where can he be?" she said. "Something must have happened."
+
+"Taxi broken down, perhaps," Roger tried consolation.
+
+"Oh, if only it's nothing worse! I must just wait. But you, Mr. Sands, I
+oughtn't to ask...."
+
+"You needn't," Roger cut her short. "I'm not going to desert you."
+
+"I might have known you wouldn't. He can't be long!"
+
+"What about the envelope? Will you have it now?" Roger asked. She had
+begged him to keep it until they were out of the train.
+
+"Not yet. I daren't. You're sure it hasn't been stolen from you? Do
+please make certain!"
+
+He put his hand inside his coat, and felt the envelope, which was safe,
+of course. "It's there, as large as life."
+
+"Thank heaven!" she breathed.
+
+Minutes passed: fifteen minutes; twenty; thirty. The girl was white as
+ashes, and dark shadows lay under her eyes. "All hope is over!" she
+said, as Sands glanced at his watch, when they had stood for
+three-quarters of an hour. "Some terrible thing has prevented him from
+meeting me. I don't know what's going to become of me now!"
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE NET
+
+
+"You made no plan what to do if your friend didn't turn up?" Roger
+enquired. "Have you any other friends in Chicago?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+"Have you ever lived here, or stayed here?"
+
+"No."
+
+If he had now been capable of suspecting her, all his first suspicions
+of Miss Beverley White would have marshalled themselves in his brain.
+Nothing had happened during the whole journey to justify her fantastic
+story of mysterious danger. As for the wonderful envelope, who could
+tell that it didn't contain blank paper? But Sands had got beyond this
+stage. If he were a fool, he asked to be nothing better.
+
+"Is that friend you talk of more than a friend?"
+
+"No, only a person I trusted for reasons I can't tell you."
+
+"I see. And you don't know what will become of you since he's failed
+you, and you're turned adrift in a strange town?"
+
+"I don't know at all. I feel stunned--as if it didn't matter."
+
+"It does matter to a girl like you, left alone without friends in a big
+city where you're a stranger. Have you money?"
+
+"I had enough and more than enough for my journey here, enough to pay
+you back for all you've done. I expected to get more money, and to be
+looked after in Chicago. Perhaps I can find work."
+
+"Do you think after all that's passed I can go coolly on my way leaving
+you alone in Chicago? I may be a fool, but I have another proposal to
+make." He paused.
+
+She looked up as if startled.
+
+"What do you say to marrying me and going on to New York as my wife?"
+
+For a minute he thought she was going to faint. She seemed suddenly to
+become limp. She swayed a little on her feet, and he caught her arm.
+
+"You're tired out, standing so long," he exclaimed.
+
+"No, it's not that. Forgive me. It was almost too much, finding out the
+height of your goodness. Yet, 'height' is the word!"
+
+"You'll marry me, then!" he cried.
+
+"No," the girl answered, "I thank you with my whole heart, but I can't."
+
+"Why ... why?" he stammered. "Unless you're married already."
+
+"I'm not married. No man has ever been anything to me. I swear that to
+you! But I can't tell you any more about myself."
+
+Roger did not speak for a minute. At last he said:
+
+"See here, you and I have got to talk. We can't do that where we are,
+with people jostling us this way and that. There's one thing certain.
+However this ends, I'm not going to leave you alone in Chicago. We've
+got plenty of time. Will you let me take you to a quiet restaurant? We
+can thrash matters out across the table."
+
+"Very well," she agreed.
+
+Roger knew Chicago. When he had arranged to have his luggage put in safe
+keeping, he got a taxi and took the girl to a dull but good place, sure
+to be practically empty at that hour. They sat down at a table in a
+corner, and Sands ordered an oyster stew.
+
+"Do you dislike me?" he began his catechism. "Could you like me enough
+to think of me as a husband, if we'd met in a conventional, society sort
+of way?"
+
+"Yes, I could. I do want you to know that. You've been so splendid to
+me."
+
+"So far so good, but I haven't been splendid. I've fallen in love with
+you. I haven't been in love before ... that is, not since I was twenty.
+I've never had time...."
+
+"You haven't taken much time in doing it now!" She gave a queer little
+laugh with a sob in it.
+
+"I've learned the lesson that time isn't the thing needed. I want you
+more than I ever wanted anything in my life, and I'll take you ... as
+you stand."
+
+"You haven't stopped to think ... to count the cost," she said. "Imagine
+what it would be for a man like you to have a wife he knew nothing
+about, just a single figure cut off its background, in a picture he'd
+never seen. People would ask: 'Who was she?' and there'd be no answer."
+
+"They'd not ask me that," said Roger obstinately. "And I wouldn't care
+what they asked each other. I'm not a society man, though I might enjoy
+putting my wife on the top floor. And I can do that with you if I
+choose! You say I'm a man of importance. I'm important enough anyhow to
+take the wife I want, and to put her where I want her to be."
+
+"Yes, perhaps. But it wouldn't be only for a little while that I'd not
+be allowed to tell you about myself. It would be for always. You
+couldn't love me enough to be happy in spite of that."
+
+"I could be happy," Roger insisted, "if you'd love me."
+
+"I'd adore you! But...."
+
+"Then there isn't any 'but'. I don't say I shouldn't like to know all
+about my wife and her people and her past. Still, I'd rather have you
+with a future and no past than any other woman with both. I can't do
+without you, and I'm going to have you ... now, to-day, as soon as I can
+buy a license and get a parson to make us man and wife."
+
+"But if you should regret it?"
+
+"I never will be sorry, if you'll do what you just said, adore
+me ... half as much as I'll adore you."
+
+Her eyes gave him a beautiful answer. Roger Sands felt that nothing
+could make him regret the coming of such a romance into his hustling
+life.
+
+This, then, was the story behind the sensation when Roger Sands came
+back from a short trip to California bringing a wife, a girl who had
+been a Miss Beverley White, a girl nobody had ever seen or heard of
+before.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE MOUSE
+
+
+On the same September day, in Moreton and Payntor's department store in
+New York, might have been seen a wisp of a girl "cheeking" a manager
+into giving her a situation on the strength of her being Irish.
+
+By chance, the side door of the big Sixth Avenue shop opened for Clo
+Riley (her true, Irish, baptismal name was Clodagh, but she didn't think
+that would "go" in New York), on the day when Roger Sands' stateroom
+door, on the Santa Fé Limited, opened for a very different girl and for
+Romance. No one would have thought that they could be in the same
+story--the mysterious Vision and the little, sharp-faced thing from
+County Cork. Yet without Clo Riley it would have been another story
+altogether, even though, for more than six months, she and Mr. and Mrs.
+Roger Sands never heard each other's names, nor saw each other's faces.
+
+It was in the April after her marriage that Mrs. Sands came upon an
+advertisement in a newspaper. Moreton and Payntor were making a splash
+about their lately started department for antique furniture. They had
+obtained "eight magnificent, unique pieces of satinwood furniture
+painted by Angelica Kaufmann, bought by a representative of Moreton and
+Payntor, from a titled family in England."
+
+Beverley Sands (her husband called her "Bev") loved painted satinwood,
+when it was good. How she knew that things were good or bad, Roger
+sometimes wondered: but she did know. Roger had taken a house at Newport
+which had come into the market, and Beverley was picking up "beautiful
+pieces" with which to furnish it. The house would, they hoped, be ready
+to move into by June.
+
+When she read Moreton and Payntor's advertisement, Beverley decided to
+see the satinwood suite and buy it if genuine. Her present wealth
+emphasized her astonishing, incredible happiness. "He gives me
+everything I want, he trusts me to do everything I like," she thought.
+Life was wonderful. Slowly she was coming out from under the cloud of
+fear, and had ceased to be afraid of Something terrible that might
+happen.
+
+Roger went every morning to the offices of the firm which had his name
+at its head. She had breakfasted with him in a kind of super-dressing
+gown which Roger said was like an opal seen through a sunrise mist. As
+her maid hooked up her frock she sang for happiness. She wished she
+could earn it by making someone else happy. Roger didn't count in that
+way. The credit would be to do things for a person you didn't love.
+
+"To the first creature I meet to-day, who needs help, I'll give it," she
+said to herself. "I'll do something big ... like sacrificing on an
+altar."
+
+She went out in Roger's latest present, a limousine car, so silent and
+so swift that it travelled like a cloud-shadow. Outside the car was dark
+blue; inside, the pale azure of a robin's egg. Beverley told the
+chauffeur to drive to Moreton and Payntor's, avoiding traffic because
+she was in a hurry. To do this, he approached the shop by passing
+through a side street in which was the entrance for employees, as well
+as that leading to minor departments, and so connecting with the main
+shop. It was comparatively a quiet street, but to-day there was a crowd.
+Something had happened, and only a moment ago, for a policeman was just
+coming up. The chauffeur would have hurried by to spare Mrs. Sands what
+might be an unpleasant sight, but on one of her impulses she stopped
+him. The car windows were open. Beverley heard the words "Poor child"
+and "Ambulance." She opened the door and jumped out. Because she was
+beautiful and beautifully dressed, and had a fine car, people made way
+for her.
+
+On the pavement a girl was lying. There was some blood, and that would
+have made Beverley sick, if the face streaked red hadn't struck her as
+the most tragic, the most pathetic face she had ever seen. It was so
+ghastly white, so thin, and yet so young!
+
+"What is it? What's happened?" she inquired of the innermost group.
+
+"Chucked herself out of a fourth story window," a fat woman answered.
+"Somebody was beastly to her, I guess."
+
+"Is she dead?" Beverley asked.
+
+"Not yet ... though she must be a bag o' broken bones. She'll die on the
+way to hospital, likely, in the ambulance, with nobody to care."
+
+At that instant, as if she heard the terrible words, the girl's eyes
+opened. It seemed to Beverley that they looked straight at her.
+
+Suddenly she remembered her own resolve. It had been almost a vow: "To
+the first creature I meet to-day who needs help I'll give it."
+
+Here was the creature. If ever there were an appeal in human eyes, it
+was in these. Perhaps it was an unconscious appeal. Perhaps the brain
+had been stunned asleep, but the deep-down soul was awake. It was
+calling to Beverley's soul, and the call had to be answered, or the vow
+would be broken. Roger Sands' wife dared not break such a vow lest she
+should be punished and lose her magical happiness.
+
+She hated the sight of blood. She wanted to think that, if the girl were
+dying, she could do no good. Yet, while reason argued, instinct had
+already decided that this was the claimant of the vow. Beverley knelt
+down beside the curiously flat-looking body which lay on the pavement.
+Her dress dipped into a widening pool of blood, but she did not sicken
+as she had thought she would. And to her own surprise she found her hand
+stroking back a lock of dark red hair from the upturned face. Poor,
+thin, child's face!
+
+"Don't be afraid, you're going to be loved and cared for," she promised.
+
+By this time a doctor had arrived. He, too, knelt by the sufferer. He
+spoke to Beverley, thinking she had some acquaintance with the injured
+girl. The police had cleared away the sensation seekers, but the lovely
+lady of the blue automobile was left in peace. She seemed to be helping
+the doctor.
+
+"Keep off, please, keep off," the policemen repeated. "The ambulance'll
+be round any instant."
+
+But the ambulance did not take its cue. This was strange, for the
+service was splendidly prompt. A man ran up bringing news that there'd
+been a collision with a trolley. No one was hurt, but it meant a delay
+before another ambulance could be called and respond.
+
+"Can't we take her away in my car?" asked Beverley. "Oh, why shouldn't I
+have her at my house? She's only a child, so thin and frail! Loving care
+might save her. I'd have a trained nurse in. I'm Mrs. Roger Sands. You
+may know my husband's name."
+
+The name of Roger Sands was impressive. So was Beverley, and so was the
+car. The ambulance wasn't at hand, and time pressed. It seemed as if the
+offer might be accepted. The doctor was the physician engaged to attend
+the employees of Moreton and Payntor, and had authority in the
+neighbourhood. To test Mrs. Roger Sands' character he abruptly ordered
+her into the surgical department--"ground floor, close by the side
+street entrance"--to "fetch out a stretcher and be quick." Beverley
+responded without hesitation, and in two minutes a startled boy appeared
+with a canvas thing like a cot.
+
+The doctor and one of the policemen got the childish body on to this
+while Beverley darted to her waiting chauffeur. He--Robbins, an elderly
+Englishman--was furious, but short of giving notice then and there,
+could do nothing save obey. The folding chairs were pulled out: on one
+was piled the car's best ornament, a large chinchilla rug, and some blue
+silk cushions. These gave support for the foot of the stretcher, its
+head resting on the seat; and the other folding chair was taken by the
+doctor who, sitting there, could hold his patient safely in place. Mrs.
+Roger Sands scrambled up beside her chauffeur, and did not even notice
+that the man's face was a thundercloud.
+
+Robbins could have cried. His last situation in England had been with a
+duke. He would still have occupied it, had he not long passed the
+"smart" age. Roger Sands had thought him an excellent guardian for
+Beverley. Robbins didn't approve of America, but he had approved of his
+mistress. There had seemed to him something queenly about her which
+"reminded him of home," but to-day he was ashamed of her: to drive
+through the streets of New York sitting on the front seat beside him, as
+if she were a lady's maid! Worse than all, her dress, her gloves, were
+stained with blood. As for the inside of the new car, it would be
+ruined. The man felt responsible, and believed that his master would
+consider him so. Sitting beside Mrs. Sands, with the look of an inferior
+Roman statue on his square face, the chauffeur resolved to see Mr. Sands
+before the tale of this morning's work could be told by Sands' American
+chauffeur, who drove him to and from the office. The Englishman decided
+to bribe the American to "lend his job" that afternoon. They could
+arrange an excuse. Harter had a cold. But, as it happened, Roger Sands
+read of the affair in a second edition of an evening paper while he
+waited for his car.
+
+To see Beverley's name in big letters gave him a shock. He became
+conscious that somewhere within him had always been a horror of finding
+his wife's name in a newspaper, heading "scarelines." His first feeling
+as he read on was of relief. Why, this was nothing!
+
+Some reporter had worked up the incident into a romance, and his editor,
+appreciating Roger Sands' importance, had given it nearly a whole
+column. On the surface it was a tribute to Mrs. Sands' goodness of
+heart; but as Roger's rush of thankfulness passed, he began to see an
+unpleasant side of the business.
+
+The reporter had interviewed various persons in the firm of Moreton and
+Payntor. He had learned that the girl befriended by Mrs. Roger Sands was
+employed in the restaurant for women "assistants." By certain of these,
+she had been suspected of small thefts. They had watched her, and it was
+in the midst of a "scene" following an accusation, that the waitress had
+suddenly flung herself out of a fourth story window. She was an Irish
+girl not long in New York. Her name was Clo Riley, and she had been in
+the employ of Moreton and Payntor for nearly seven months. She had made
+no friends, and was considered "Mysterious."
+
+At the Park Avenue apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Roger Sands an interview
+had been refused; but the reporter had learned from a servant that, if
+the invalid were "a dear relative" of Mrs. Sands, she could not be more
+lovingly cared for. The largest and handsomest spare room had been
+hastily prepared, a trained nurse engaged, and a famous surgeon had been
+called in consultation with the doctor who had undertaken the case.
+Following these details came a description of Mrs. Roger Sands, gleaned
+from an "eye witness" of the "sensational scene" enacted in the street.
+
+The story developed strangely to Roger. He saw something behind it. He
+knew things about Beverley which, he trusted, few others knew, and saw
+the affair in another light.
+
+Roger's marriage experiment was a success. He was glad that he had taken
+the girl "as she stood." To have what she had called a "figure cut off
+its background out of an unseen picture," was better than to have lost
+forever a figure of such beauty. He believed that Beverley was as good
+as she was sweet, but she had been right in her prophecy; it was
+hideous, sometimes, to see her outlined against darkness.
+
+The incident had happened close to Moreton and Payntor's department
+store. Beverley had been in the habit of going there lately. She might
+have had a reason for choosing that shop. Indeed, it struck Roger as
+incredible that even her impulsiveness could lead her so far, for a
+stranger's sake. Besides, why hadn't she telephoned? It looked as if she
+were determined to carry out her scheme before he could oppose it.
+
+In this mood he went to his automobile. He was surprised to see Robbins,
+but not sorry, because Robbins had been mixed up in the morning's
+affair.
+
+"What's this I've been reading in the _Evening Star_?" he broke in.
+
+Here was luck for Robbins! He began to excuse himself for the disgrace
+which had fallen upon the new car. "It was the mistress's order, sir,
+and I had no choice; but I can't help thinking if she'd known what a
+mess the blood would make, she'd 'ave let me call a taxi."
+
+"Another lining is easily put in," said Roger, coolly; but he was angry
+for the first time with Beverley. Of all women, she was the one who
+ought to think twice before doing a thing to get herself talked about;
+but she never thought twice. As he drove homeward, doubts of her crowded
+into his mind.
+
+At home, Beverley was in the room which had been turned into a hospital
+ward. The nurse had called her, to announce that the "patient" had
+returned to consciousness and had begun asking questions.
+
+"I saw it would worry her to be put off," went on Sister Lake, "so I
+told her a few things. She remembered throwing herself out of the
+window, and the fall, and then waking up, lying in the street. She said
+she'd dreamed of an angel-girl bending over her. When she heard what
+you'd done, she insisted on speaking to you."
+
+"I'll go at once!" Beverley exclaimed.
+
+"Just for a few minutes," the nurse hinted.
+
+Beverley let herself be led in. The room looked strange to her. The
+servants, directed by the doctor, and later by the trained nurse, had
+swiftly, noiselessly made the changes before the girl came back to
+herself. The curtains had been taken down, and rugs cleared away from
+the parquet floor. Most of the furniture had disappeared, and on a glass
+table were a number of bottles. The bed faced the door, and as Mrs.
+Sands softly entered a pair of eyes looked at her. Beverley's heart
+jumped as her eyes met them. She had not known how immense and dark they
+were, or that they were beautiful.
+
+The nurse drew Mrs. Sands near to the bed, and issued her orders before
+the girl could open her lips.
+
+"Neither of you must talk much," she commanded. "Mrs. Sands has come to
+let you see that she exists, and you can thank her if you like, but she
+mustn't stay many minutes."
+
+"Sister Lake is right," said Beverley. "You mustn't excite yourself.
+You're going to get well; and this is your home."
+
+"I'm not excited," the girl answered, in a low, monotonous voice, hardly
+above a whisper. "But I had to see you, and tell you this one thing. I
+didn't want to live, because ... I was miserable, and everyone hated me;
+still, it seemed awful to die. You saved me. I wish to live now, if only
+to show you what gratitude can be. I expect you're awfully rich. I'm
+poorer than any church mouse. It doesn't look as if I could do anything
+for one like you. But who knows? There was a mouse once helped a lion.
+It gnawed a hole in a net. I feel as if the time must come when I can do
+as much, because I want to so dreadfully. That's all!"
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+THE MURMUR OF THE STORM
+
+
+It seemed that everything were to go wrong with Roger Sands that day. He
+had felt for the last few months that a cloud had risen between him and
+John Heron, whose cause he had won in California. If ever a business man
+owed a debt of gratitude to the brains of another, John Heron owed such
+a debt to Roger Sands, who had risked not only his reputation, but even
+his life against the powerful enemies of the alleged "California Oil
+Trust King." Heron had appeared fully to appreciate this; and before
+Roger left for New York had been almost oppressively cordial, begging in
+vain that Roger would visit him and his wife, a famous beauty with
+Spanish blood in her veins. He had written once, immediately after
+Sands' departure, and had telegraphed congratulations on reading the
+news of Roger's marriage. But the friendly reply had remained
+unacknowledged. The wedding present of a gold tea service had been
+accompanied by no letter, only a card with the names of "Mr. and Mrs.
+John Heron." With Sands' thanks the correspondence ended.... This had
+vexed Roger, who liked Heron and was not used to being slighted. The
+only thing he could think of was Beverley's failure to enclose a note to
+Mrs. Heron in his letter of thanks. She had argued that the present was
+for him, really, and that if she wrote Mrs. Heron it would look
+"pushing."
+
+Roger let the matter slide, and had written in his wife's name and his
+own. At last he read in some newspaper that "Mr. and Mrs. John Heron
+intended shortly to start for the east, where they would spend the
+summer." Without waiting to consult Beverley he wrote, saying he had
+read the news, and he and his wife hoped for a visit in their Newport
+house as soon as it was ready. He had written, not from the office, but
+from home, with the Park Avenue address on the paper. To-day, as he
+entered his study, his eye lit on an envelope with John Heron's writing
+upon it.
+
+The letter lay on the top of others on his desk, and instead of going to
+find Beverley at once, as was his lover's custom, he sat down to read
+his correspondence.
+
+The first letter he opened was Heron's, which consisted of a few lines
+on one page. Roger's eyes took in the whole at a glance.
+
+     DEAR MR. SANDS:
+
+     My wife and I are obliged to you for your kind invitation, but
+     owing to the fact that we have already made a great number of
+     engagements I fear we shall be unable to give ourselves the
+     pleasure of accepting.
+
+     Yours truly,
+     JOHN HERON.
+
+The blood rushed to Roger's forehead. He realized that this was a
+deliberate insult.
+
+The last letter had begun "Dear Sands," and had been signed "Yours
+gratefully ever." Roger was even more furious than mystified. "Next time
+he wants me to pull him out of a death trap, he can whistle for his
+pains!"
+
+At that instant Beverley tapped at the door, and half opened it to peep
+in.
+
+This irritated Roger. He had told her from the first that she need not
+knock at his study door.
+
+"How often have I begged you not to knock?" he broke out at her. "Come
+in if you want to."
+
+It was the first time he had ever spoken crossly. Beverley started, and
+the look on her face, instead of overwhelming Roger with remorse,
+hardened him.
+
+Beverley's colour had been bright, but she turned pale as Roger flung at
+her his scolding words. Seeing the letter in her husband's hand the
+blood streamed back to her cheeks. If she could possibly have known and
+recognized Heron's writing, it might have seemed that the sight of it
+had struck her with fear. But no such far-fetched thought occurred to
+her husband.
+
+"I--I'm sorry!" she said hastily. "I heard your voice--I supposed
+someone was with you----"
+
+Roger forgot that he had spoken aloud. In silence he let the girl cross
+the floor and sit down in the easy chair she called "hers." She dropped
+into it as if her knees had given way, and looked at Roger. When he did
+not speak, she could bear the suspense no longer.
+
+"You--you're reading a letter--I interrupted you?"
+
+"The letter's of no importance," said Roger, throwing it upon the desk.
+"It's only from John Heron to tell me that he and his wife won't be able
+to come and see us at Newport. One would suppose by his tone that he was
+offended. Probably Mrs. Heron expected you to gush over the wedding
+present, and has put him up to snubbing me because you didn't."
+
+"You asked the Herons to visit us? I--didn't know----"
+
+"I did ask them," Roger cut her short. "I heard they were coming East."
+
+"Oh, Roger, I couldn't have met them! If they'd accepted I should have
+had to be ill, or--or go away!" Beverley exclaimed on one of her
+impulses, which instantly she appeared to regret. "I'm glad you don't
+like Mr. Heron's letter, because--you'll never ask them again! I haven't
+done anything to annoy you, have I?"
+
+"You know best whether you have or not."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Is it necessary to ask? I came home intending not to question you. But
+I must make one comment: you're surprised that I invite a friend to
+visit us without consulting you. That seems inconsistent with what
+you've done. I've read the evening paper, and----"
+
+"Oh, Roger! It's in the paper ... about that poor child and me?"
+
+"Naturally! You and I aren't nonentities."
+
+"You don't think I did wrong?"
+
+"Wrong's a big word. You've done something foolish, and inconsiderate to
+me."
+
+"What harm can the child do to you?"
+
+"That depends upon what sort of 'child' she is! Perhaps you can give me
+a better account of her than the _Evening Star_ gives!"
+
+"I can't give you any," said Beverley, in a trembling voice, "except
+that she was the most pitiful thing I ever saw ... so young and
+desperate, lying in pools of blood."
+
+"Which pools of blood you transferred to your new motor car, my present,
+that I thought you valued."
+
+"Roger! What did the motor matter, compared with saving a life?"
+
+"Saving a life wasn't in question. An ambulance would have been on the
+spot in a minute to take the girl to a hospital."
+
+"She wouldn't have had love in a hospital. I felt it was for lack of
+love she'd tried to kill herself...."
+
+"A girl who steals her companions' money can't expect to have their
+love...."
+
+"Oh! So that's what the newspaper says? I don't believe she stole. Wait
+till you see the poor little thing, Roger."
+
+"I don't want to see her. Now she's here, she'll have to stay till she
+dies, or can be safely moved. I've no wish to be cruel. But when she can
+go, I want her to do so. I don't mind giving...."
+
+"You do mind giving faith and sympathy!" Beverley burst out. "Why should
+you take me on faith, and refuse it to another? You knew nothing about
+me ... I know nothing about this child...."
+
+"Ah, you're sure you know nothing about her!" His tone was bitter.
+
+"What could I know?" she echoed. "I brought her straight home, and she
+hasn't been able to talk ... except a few words."
+
+"It occurred to me as rather odd you should do so much for a complete
+stranger."
+
+"Oh, I see! You think I knew her ... before?"
+
+"I thought it possible. Her name put the idea into my head. I heard you
+say it once ... in your ... sleep ... Riley ... or something like that."
+
+For the third time Beverley blushed, one of her fatal, agonized blushes.
+The rush of blood forced tears to her eyes; and a certain strained look
+in them, a quivering of the lips, brought back to Roger's mind a picture
+of her in the train. That was the first time he had seen her blush. She
+had said--he remembered well--"You are the only man I'm interested in,"
+and had blushed furiously. He had been sure then that she was no
+adventuress. She had looked like a frightened child, and she looked like
+one now. With that picture of the girl in the train came back another
+recollection. She had asked if any man had inquired for her, or if any
+"noticeable" person had sought his acquaintance. He had replied that
+he'd not spoken with a soul except a man he knew slightly, a Congressman
+from California named O'Reilly. He supposed that O'Reilly didn't
+interest her? Upon this, with a desperate blush, she had made her
+startlingly frank reply.
+
+As this came back, Roger's heart was no longer soft. What a fool he had
+been, that day in the train, not to connect the girl's change of colour
+with his mention of O'Reilly! She might have blurted out her compliment
+to excuse the blush, instead of the blush having followed the
+compliment. Good heavens! could Justin O'Reilly have been the man from
+whom she wished to hide?
+
+"Perhaps the name you spoke in your sleep was O'Reilly!" he flung at his
+wife.
+
+Beverley gathered herself together.
+
+"So all this time," she said, "you have been suspicious of me! And I was
+so happy. I thought you were happy, too, but it's just as I was afraid
+it would be, if I married you. You can't endure the strain!"
+
+"I have endured the strain," Roger defended himself; "because I loved
+you as few men have ever loved, but the question is, have you deserved
+it all?"
+
+"This is the moment I felt must come!" she said. "If I had only myself
+to think of, don't you know I'd have told you everything? I warned you
+how it would be ... how I should have to keep the secret not for a
+little while, but for always! If you don't believe, if you think I lied
+when I said no man had ever been anything to me ... if you think I lie
+now, when I say I never saw or heard of this girl till I found her in
+the street.... I can go out of your life.... I can go to-day!"
+
+As she spoke slowly, sentence by sentence, with a sobbing breath
+between, Beverley looked straight into her husband's eyes. Hers did not
+falter though they swam in tears. With her last words, she rose and
+stood facing him as he sat at his desk.
+
+Roger gave her back gaze for gaze, as if he would read her secret
+written in cypher on her soul. He saw that she meant what she said. A
+word from him, and their experiment was at an end. She would go. It
+seemed to him that never had her beauty been so gentle, so womanly.
+
+"You shan't go!" he cried, springing to his feet. "I can't give you up!"
+
+But she held him off.
+
+"No!" she panted. "I won't stay if you want me only in that way--because
+you have a kind of love for me, whether you believe in me or not. I love
+you too much to be shamed by you! Either you trust me, or you don't. Say
+which it is, and I'll stay, or go."
+
+"I've got to trust you! I do!" The words seemed to burst from him. "You
+know I love you more than all the world. It would kill me to lose you."
+
+"I'd rather die from the shock of losing you, Roger, than from such a
+hateful pain, going on and on----"
+
+"It shan't go on," he said. "I've been happy, too. I'm a changed man
+since the hour I saw you and loved you. It's only to-day I've been
+wretched. Forgive me, Bev--and God forgive you if----"
+
+"There's an 'if' for you?"
+
+"No--no, there's no 'if' any more. You're to forgive me----that's all!"
+
+"Oh, I do! The hard thing would be not to forgive. But--can we go on
+being happy again, just as if nothing had happened?"
+
+"Of course we can, silly child. Nothing has happened." Roger had her in
+his arms now. He kissed her over and over again, till she gasped for
+breath. "This has only cleared the air. As for that beastly child, I
+don't care if she's a murderess. Keep her forever, if you choose. Train
+her as your maid----"
+
+"But she's not 'beastly!' And she's not the kind to have for a maid. I
+think she's a lady. She seems----"
+
+"Well, do whatever you like with her. Can I go further, to show you I
+want to atone?"
+
+"No, you can't, Roger----" Beverley nestled her face into his neck. "I
+adore you!"
+
+She closed her eyes, but opening them she happened, looking over Roger's
+shoulder, to see John Heron's letter on her husband's desk. A faint
+shiver ran through her body, and Roger felt it.
+
+"What's the matter, my darling?" he asked.
+
+"Nothing!" she answered. "A mouse ran over my grave."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+ON THE WAY TO THE CAR
+
+
+Beverley found that she could "be happy again, as if nothing had
+happened" between her and Roger. For one thing, it was wonderful to feel
+that she had the power to "save" a fellow-being, and wonderful to be
+worshipped as Clo worshipped her. Of course, Roger "worshipped" her,
+too, but it was Beverley who looked up to him. Clo looked up to her.
+When Beverley went into the room presided over by Sister Lake, the
+child's great black eyes dwelt upon her as the eyes of a devotee upon
+the form of a goddess "come alive." Roger Sands' wife felt simply that
+she was repaying God for saving her, by what she was able to do for this
+Irish girl.
+
+As soon as Clo was allowed to talk she insisted upon telling Beverley
+about herself. There was, apparently, no romance or mystery in the story
+of her eighteen years of life. Her mother had died when she was less
+than three, but Clo could "remember her perfectly." It wasn't only the
+photograph she had (a badly taken one of a young woman with a baby in
+her arms), but she could see her mother's colouring. Oh, such lovely
+colouring! Not dark red hair, like her own, but gold, and eyes more
+brown than gray. And mother had been only twenty-four when she died. Clo
+had to admit that most of what she knew of mother was from the Sisters
+who looked after the orphans. Yes, it was in an orphan asylum that the
+child had been brought up. About father she knew nothing, except that
+mother had "lost" him before her baby was born, and that he "came from
+America." Evidently his name had been Riley, because mother was Mrs.
+Riley, and Clo was Clodagh because "that was a name in mother's family."
+
+The Sisters had been particularly kind. Mother had given Clo into their
+care, because she lodged, and had fallen ill, in the street of the
+orphan asylum. There had been a little money, which was placed in a bank
+for the child. The Sisters had known that mother was a lady; but the
+orphan girls, when they grew up, were supposed to be put into service.
+Neither Clo nor the Sisters had wanted her to be a servant, and when she
+was sixteen a situation was found for her as "companion" to an old lady.
+Clo "stuck it out" for nearly two years. Then she ran away and sailed
+for the United States, her unknown father's land, with the sixty pounds
+which was her fortune. This money was all spent, and she was nearly
+starving when she snatched at what she could get with Moreton and
+Payntor.
+
+"But I just couldn't eat and dress on my wages," Clo explained, in her
+soft, rich voice, rather deep for so young and small a girl, and made
+creamy by a touch of Irish brogue. "One has to do both in New York. I
+was so hungry all the time, if the girls left a crust on their plates I
+used to hide it. I expect the way I'd look to see if there'd be anything
+left gave them the idea I was a sly piece. They thought I put on airs,
+too. Me! P'raps it was my not knowing their kind of slang. And it's true
+I did steal once, or almost the same thing as steal. There was a dollar
+bill on the floor under a table one afternoon. 'Stead of trying to find
+who was the owner, I slipped it inside my dress. I must have been nearly
+off my head, or I'd never have done it, darling Mrs. Sands! When the
+time came to go home to my room that night, I didn't go. I went to a
+restaurant, and I ate. I ate a whole dollar's worth of dinner, just so I
+couldn't give any money back if I changed my mind next day. Well, next
+day was the day you know of. And what with knowing I was a thief, and
+the girls knowing it, too--though there was no proof--I thought the best
+thing for a lost child was to die!"
+
+Beverley had by this time "made everything right" for Clo at Moreton and
+Payntor's. Indeed, Mrs. Roger Sands having taken her up, she had become
+quite a classic figure of romance among her late enemies. When Beverley
+told the girl that when she got well she wouldn't have to go, but could
+stop and be "a sort of secretary," Clo Riley almost had a relapse from
+the shock of joy.
+
+By the end of May Clo's broken ribs had mended. The first day when she
+was up and dressed, able to go downstairs, and out for a spin in the
+renovated blue car, she was a very different looking girl from the
+battered wisp of humanity whose blood had stained the "robin's-egg"
+cloth and silk.
+
+It was Sunday, and Clo was burning with excitement. She was to meet her
+Angel's husband for the first time. She had pictured him a dragon. The
+Angel loved him, but the Angel was such a saint, and would love any old
+husband. Clo imagined that Beverley had been poor (she must have known
+poverty to be so sympathetic!) and that she'd married an elderly man
+because--well, not entirely because he was rich (that wouldn't be like
+an Angel) but because she needed protection. Clo expected to see a
+grumpy graybeard.
+
+Roger expected to see a washed-out invalid of indefinite type, a young
+woman of the shabbiest shop-girl order.
+
+What Clodagh saw, when she followed Mrs. Sands into the study, was a
+strong, dark man, not old at all, apparently, and almost interesting
+enough in looks to be worthy of the Angel. Still, she was not sure she
+was going to like him.
+
+What Roger saw was a small, slender girl, too childish, too impish, to
+think of as a "young woman." She had a little oval face with a pointed
+chin. It was pale, but not washed-out, and her lips were red. An
+obstinate, impudent mouth, Roger thought. As for her eyes--he had never
+seen such great eyes in a human face. They were like holes in a blanket,
+so big, so black, as they stared up at him. She had curly auburn hair,
+that looked even redder than it was, in contrast with her eyes. But
+though the face was impish, not pretty precisely, with its high cheek
+bones and impertinent chin, he had to admit that it was noticeable, and,
+in some odd way, attractive. The girl was charmingly dressed. He might
+have known that Bev would see to that. Clo was a surprise to him, as he
+was to her. Each saw that the other was a distinct and interesting
+personality; and Roger realized that Beverley was right; the girl had
+the air of being a lady. There was something else about her, too, which
+piqued him. He could not make out what it was. Did she look like someone
+he knew?
+
+He was polite, as he had promised to be, and called Clo "Miss Riley."
+When Beverley said that they were going out for the invalid's first
+drive, Roger replied that he was glad; but Clo, catching his eye,
+fancied she saw a sarcastic gleam.
+
+"He's thinking of the time I came here in that same car," she told
+herself. "I know I must have spoilt it--got it all messed up with blood.
+Probably he had to give a lot for doing it over. And my goodness, the
+dollars of his that Angel has been pouring out for me every day since!
+No wonder he looks sick! But some day I shall pay. I don't know how,
+only I shall--I shall!"
+
+Beverley and Clo went down in the gorgeously decorated elevator.
+
+"If Angel lived in a garret, it would be a palace to me," she reflected.
+
+A hall porter opened the door of carved bronze over glass. Without
+seeming to look, he took in every detail of the slim figure in white
+cloth; the small white hat tilted over the dark red hair, the tiny white
+shoes, the dainty ankles in silk stockings. Clo could have laughed
+aloud. Of course, the giant in livery knew the whole story. He was
+contrasting the way she came out with the way she had come in.
+
+Drawn up at the pavement was the glittering blue automobile, with the
+statuesque Robbins at the wheel. Clo remembered both, with a queer, sick
+pang. She had not been wholly unconscious when the stretcher was pushed
+into the car. "What I owe this darling woman!" was the thought she
+breathed like a prayer.
+
+As the two crossed the pavement--tall, beautiful Beverley and quaint
+little Clo--a man who must have been loitering close by started toward
+them with a limping step, and took off his hat.
+
+"Is this Mrs. Roger Sands?" he asked.
+
+Beverley stopped short, within a yard of her car. For such a graceful,
+softly moving person, her movement seemed jerky. Clo glanced from the
+man to Mrs. Sands in surprise. One would say the Angel looked
+frightened, only that would be absurd! Besides, the man wasn't a
+creature worth being afraid of. He was short, and very thin, as if he
+had been ill. He hadn't a nice face. Sallow and sickly it was, like a
+prison bird, with hollows under the red-rimmed eyes. He was badly lame,
+too, if he wasn't pretending; and altogether, in spite of her newly
+mended ribs, Clo felt that she herself would be equal to knocking him
+down.
+
+"Yes, I am Mrs. Sands," Beverley answered, as if against her will. "I
+don't--but perhaps someone has sent you with a message?"
+
+"In a way, yes, that's it," said the man. "I had a message for you. I'm
+the man sent to meet you in Chicago, September 21st of last year."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+THE PARCEL WITH THE GOLD SEALS
+
+
+There was a second of suspense for Clo, and then Beverley spoke quietly:
+
+"Oh, I see! That's very interesting," she said. "I hope--the news is
+good?"
+
+"It's a long message," the man answered. "I was told to let you have it
+in person. I thought you'd be goin' out sooner or later. If your husban'
+'ad bin along, I'd have left a line, but----"
+
+"Never mind what you would have done, please," Beverley cut him short.
+"The best thing I can think of now, is this" (she hurried on in a low
+tone, and Clo who had stepped aside, nearer to the car, did not catch
+the words), "Take a taxi, and follow my automobile. We're going into the
+Park. When you see us stop, you must stop too, at a distance.
+
+"I shall get out and let the motor, with my friend in it, go on without
+me for a while. Then we can talk. Do you understand?"
+
+"I'll be there," said the man.
+
+He touched his hat and moved away, as if his errand were done.
+
+"Drive slowly through the Park," Beverley instructed Robbins, and gently
+made Clo get into the car before her. "I'm so sorry to have kept you
+standing, dear," she said. "I hope you don't feel weak or 'tottery'?"
+
+Clo did feel very weak, not from fatigue, but from excitement. She
+replied that she felt "grand." And Mrs. Sands forgot to say that she was
+glad.
+
+The girl glanced at the older woman, and saw that she was staring
+straight ahead, with a withdrawn look in her eyes, which told that she
+saw nothing. Clo's heart beat fast. This drive was to have been a
+glorious experience. She had seen Central Park more than once, and had
+walked there, miserable in her loneliness. Now, though she looked out of
+the window, it was to let Beverley feel that she was not being stared
+at. The girl saw only a blur of colour, as if a kaleidoscope turned
+before her eyes.
+
+At last Beverley spoke.
+
+"Dear child," she said, "I'm sure you understand that the man who was
+waiting for me brought a message I'm anxious to hear. And--I'm sure of
+another thing--that I can trust you!"
+
+"I'd die any minute for you, sure I would!" she cried.
+
+"I believe you would! But I don't want you to die. All I want is for you
+to listen while I explain----"
+
+"As if you needed to explain to me!" the girl broke out.
+
+"I don't need to, perhaps, yet I wish to say just this: I love Roger
+dearly. I've told you so often enough! I'd give anything on earth not to
+have a secret from him. But to save a life--not my own--there is a
+secret I must keep. This man and his message are part of it. Now, that's
+all I'm going to explain, except that--that nothing must be said."
+
+"I'd bite my tongue out sooner!" Clo protested.
+
+"Thank you, dear! Now we've had this talk, it's a comfort, not a worry,
+having you with me. You won't mind if I send you on while I get down and
+walk in the Park?"
+
+"I'd love it!" said Clo.
+
+At once Beverley took the speaking tube and ordered the chauffeur to
+stop. He drew up at the side of the road. They were in the midst of the
+Park now, an exquisite green and gold world of peace and beauty.
+
+"I feel like taking a little exercise," Beverley said to Robbins, as she
+stepped out of the car. "Miss Riley isn't strong enough to walk. Go as
+far along Riverside Drive as Grant's Tomb, and then come back, but
+slowly, so she can see everything. You'll find me waiting here."
+
+It seemed that Robbins carried out his instructions too laboriously. Clo
+didn't like the ferret-man, and she didn't believe that Beverley liked
+meeting him.
+
+When at last Robbins brought the car back to the rendezvous there was
+the tall graceful figure in gray, standing alone.
+
+"Oh, have we kept you?" the girl cried, throwing open the door before
+the automobile stopped.
+
+Beverley did not answer, or seem to hear. She did not even look at Clo.
+
+"Home!" she said to Robbins. "As fast as you can!"
+
+Clo was shocked into silence, and hardly breathed when Beverley had sunk
+on to the seat, covering her face with her hands. The car had nearly
+reached the Sands' corner of Park Avenue before the elder girl spoke.
+Then she said abruptly, as if waking from a dream:
+
+"Forgive me! I couldn't talk! I'm in dreadful trouble! I must ask you to
+help me. Are you strong enough to take a longer drive, and to walk a few
+steps alone?"
+
+"Rather!" said Clo.
+
+"Well, when we stop in front of our house, sit still in the car. I don't
+want Sister Lake or Roger to know we're back. I'll run in, get a parcel
+which must be taken to a certain place, and give it to you. Then Robbins
+will drive (I'll tell him) to a hotel on Broadway, called the
+Westmorland. I never heard of it before, but it seems that it's near 33d
+Street, and quiet and respectable. Go into the restaurant and order tea.
+While you're there, that man you saw will come into the room, and you'll
+hand him the packet. That's all."
+
+"It sounds too easy," Clo said.
+
+"I hope it will be easy. I'll bring you a latch-key when I come down
+with the parcel. Let yourself in when you get home, and go straight to
+your room. I don't want you to fib, but try to make it seem to Sister as
+if we'd just come back. She'll think it strange if she knows I've sent
+you out on an errand by yourself."
+
+"She shan't know," the girl promised.
+
+"You _are_ a comfort! You see, I told Roger I'd be at home by four, and
+I couldn't be, till long after if I took the parcel myself. I shall only
+just be in time as it is. Here we are at the door! Now I'll rush. In
+five minutes I hope to be with you again. Oh, if only Sister Lake isn't
+at the window!"
+
+The five minutes passed, and Beverley didn't return. Clo watched the
+silver-gilt clock under the vase of violets. Ten minutes; fifteen
+minutes; no Mrs. Sands! The girl was wondering whether she ought to wait
+indefinitely, or seek her friend to see what had happened when Beverley
+appeared. She was breathless with haste.
+
+"Here, take this, and do just as I told you to do," she said, thrusting
+into Clo's hands a bag, not a parcel. "Inside you'll find what I spoke
+of, and money to pay for your tea. I had to hide the parcel. I can't
+stop to explain more now." She turned to the chauffeur, and hastily
+ordered him to drive to the Westmorland Hotel. Miss Riley had to meet a
+friend there; Robbins must wait till she was ready to come home.
+
+Only as the car slowed down in front of the third-rate hotel did Clo
+touch the hasp of the gray suede bag. It was not locked, and save for a
+crumpled dollar bill, its sole contents was a large, unaddressed
+envelope fastened with three gold seals. On each of these seals was the
+same elaborate monogram, which Clo did not try to make out; but it was
+not composed of Beverley Sands' initials. Evidently the parcel had been
+crammed into the first handy receptacle, for it was all but too big to
+go in, and Clo found it difficult to extract without damaging the seals.
+Leaving the bag on the seat, she hid the envelope under the smart, white
+cloth cape which went with her new frock.
+
+The restaurant of the hotel opened off the hall. At that hour, a little
+after four o'clock, there was no one in the room but a waiter. Afternoon
+tea was evidently not a daily custom of the Westmorland's guests, but
+when it was brought at length, the ferret-man had not yet arrived.
+
+"Oh, dear, what shall I do if he doesn't come?" Clodagh asked herself,
+thinking fearfully about the chauffeur--and about Sister Lake.
+
+Just then the face of the ferret man appeared at the door. He glanced
+about, fixed the girl with his red-rimmed eyes, slouched into the room,
+and limped briskly to the table.
+
+"Hello!" he exclaimed, with a familiar grin, and pulled out a chair to
+sit opposite Clo. He kept on his hat. His breath reeked spirits, and the
+girl was disgusted, but she was the faithful servant of Mrs. Sands, and
+the waiter was staring.
+
+"Here's the parcel Mrs. Sands sent. She particularly wanted me to get
+back as soon as possible."
+
+The long envelope, with the gold seals uppermost, was lying on the
+table. Clo removed a napkin she had laid over it, and pushed the parcel
+across the table. As she did this she rose.
+
+"Looks right enough!" remarked the ferret man, sitting still. "This
+is what she told me to expect: long white envelope, three gold
+seals----" He picked the parcel up, holding it to his sharp nose and
+near-sighted eyes. "Yeh, munergram, or what yuh call it, right, too."
+
+"Then that's all," said Clo, Beverley's dollar bill in her hand. "I'll
+call the waiter----"
+
+"Don't be too previous, cutie, _if_ you please!" and a not immaculate
+hand helped itself to a fold of her dress. "Yuh an' me ain't workin'
+this show on our own. You're for Mrs. Sands, I'm fur--well, I'm fur
+someone I guess is even more particular than her. It's as much as my
+job's worth to let yuh make your get-away till I've had a squint inside
+this yere envelup."
+
+"Mrs. Sands didn't tell me there was anything to wait for after I'd put
+it in your hands," Clo objected. "I don't see----"
+
+"It's me that's got to see. Now yuh keep yer hair on, gurlie, while I
+lamp this thing. No good tryin' the sneak game, because I'd be on to yuh
+like a thousand o' brick before yuh'd took a step----"
+
+"I've no intention of running away," Clo assured him, with a dignity
+copied from her idol. "Mrs. Sands has nothing to hide."
+
+The man chuckled, as with a knife taken from the table he opened the
+envelope without breaking the seals. He did this slowly. Clo sat down
+again.
+
+The ugly hands drew out from the envelope another smaller envelope.
+There were no seals on it, but the flap was stuck with gum. The man
+swore under his breath as he used the knife again. Clo was deeply
+interested. Her idea was that the fellow would pull out a quantity of
+greenbacks; but in an instant she saw that she had guessed wrong. There
+were many sheets of paper folded together, at least a dozen, and this
+seemed to astound the man. With a jerk he opened out the sheaf of
+papers, and having stared an instant, slammed them on to the table.
+"Curse her, she thought she'd do us, did she?" The words tumbled out
+between his brown, broken teeth, as he dashed his fist on to the papers.
+"So this is why she sent you--you catspaw!"
+
+Clo was far from being a coward. Her hot, defiant temper rose at the
+least alarm, but she was so amazed at the result of her errand that she
+was struck dumb. Mechanically her eyes had turned to the papers. She saw
+that the upper sheets consisted of blank stationery taken from a train,
+the Santa Fé Limited.
+
+"If you're trying to scare me, you can't," she said. "You're acting like
+a fool. If something's gone wrong in your business, it isn't my fault,
+and I'm sure it isn't Mrs. Sands. If there's a trick, she's tricked,
+too. Try to have common sense."
+
+The girl's fearless gaze and quickly spoken words calmed the man.
+
+"It's darned rot to say my lady who stayed at home ain't in the trick.
+Why, dumbhead, this paper shows! She was on board the Limited. Gee!
+Don't I have cause to know that? It's easy as slidin' off a log to see
+what she done. She helped herself to what was in this yere envelope, an'
+filled it with train stationery. Then she sealed it up with the same
+kind o' seals. Stole the stamp and wax on purpose. Thought she could get
+away with it. I take off my hat to her."
+
+"I know nothing except that I agreed to bring the parcel," said Clo.
+
+"You go back to her ladyship as fast as you can scamper, and tell her I
+wasn't soft enough to bow myself off the stage without peepin' at what
+Santa Claus had put in my stockin'. Tell her 'twould only o' bin a
+matter o' time if I hadn't peeped. As it is, it's a matter o' less time.
+Tell her a life will pay for this, and she jolly well knows whose!"
+
+The man had ceased to bluster, and now that he had got himself in hand
+again his fierce eyes and his low, hissing voice thrilled the girl as
+his threats had not thrilled her. This time he allowed her to rise,
+which she did, tottering slightly. She had forgotten about paying for
+her tea, but the dollar bill lay in a crumpled wad on the table. The man
+placed one of his oddly repulsive hands over it.
+
+"I'll see to the waiter," he said. "I'm stayin' in this hotel. You cut
+along and tell your lady friend she's got till ten o'clock to-night to
+explain herself, not a minute more. Good day to you, Miss Baby Doll!"
+
+Without answering, Clo walked out of the room, ashamed that her knees
+were weak, and hoping that she could get safely to the car without
+making a fool of herself. Physically, it was a great relief to lie back
+against the soft cushions of robin's egg blue, and shut her eyes. What
+would Angel do when she heard how dreadfully the errand had failed?
+
+Clo had forgotten the difficulty of making Sister Lake believe, without
+a fib, that she and Mrs. Sands had only just come in from their drive
+together. But she remembered as she went up in the elevator. It was very
+late now--long after five. Sister was sure to be cross; but if she were
+cross only with Clo, and not Mrs. Sands, that wouldn't matter.
+
+Few things work out according to expectations. Sister Lake had been at
+the window, it seemed, when the car brought back Mrs. Sands and Clo
+before four o'clock, and had been alarmed when the former descended to
+hurry alone into the house.
+
+"I was afraid you'd fainted," she said when Clo arrived at last. "I flew
+out of this room to go down in the elevator, and bumped into Mr. Sands
+in the hall, and while I was apologizing and making him understand she
+appeared on the scene."
+
+"My goodness, the fat _is_ in the fire!" Clo thought desperately. Aloud
+she said: "Well?"
+
+"She said you wanted to go to tea with someone, and she was hurrying to
+her room to get money for you, so that you could stand treat. I
+objected, as I had a right to do," went on Sister Lake. "You're still my
+patient, if my time is up to-morrow. And if you have a relapse I shall
+be in a nice fix, as I'm due at Mrs. Jardine's Tuesday morning! Mrs.
+Sands really acted very queer, she was so determined you should go. Even
+when her husband backed me up, she was as obstinate as--as--if she
+wasn't such a sweet woman, I should say a pig!"
+
+"It was my fault," pleaded Clo. "I'm not tired a bit." Yet as she
+argued, a voice was saying inside her head: "No wonder the poor darling
+was a long time coming down with the parcel!"
+
+But this, though exciting enough, was as naught beside the great
+question: "What would Beverley say, what would she feel, when Clo had to
+confess all that had happened at the Hotel Westmorland?"
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE QUEEN'S PEARLS
+
+
+Roger also had a secret that Sunday. He waited for Beverley and Clo to
+be gone (reminding his wife that she had promised to be back by four)
+and then called up the Belmont Hotel by telephone.
+
+"Give me Count Lovoresco's room," he said, and presently a foreign
+conception of the word "Hello!" rumbled through the receiver.
+
+"Hello, Count," Roger replied, recognizing the voice. "My wife's safely
+off. I'll send my own car round at once. Now you've got the letter of
+confirmation we can settle our business. What? You're ready? Thank you.
+My man'll be at the hotel as soon as you can get down. Good-bye."
+
+Fifteen minutes later a dark, dapper, elderly man with magnificent eyes
+was ushered into Roger's study.
+
+"You've brought the pearls, of course?" Roger asked.
+
+"Yes, Mistaire Sand, I bring ze pearls," announced Count Lovoresco.
+
+"And the letter from the Queen?"
+
+"From 'er Majesty's secretaire," Count Lovoresco corrected. "'Ere it
+is." He drew from a breast pocket a square envelope with a crown and a
+monogram on the flap. This he handed to Sands, and as the latter opened
+it, he took from another pocket a purple velvet box, oval in shape,
+about eight inches long by two in height. On the cover appeared a gold
+crown, and the same monogram as that of the envelope. Roger had seen
+this box and its contents; so, instead of watching a tiny gold key
+fitted into a miniature padlock, he read the letter authorizing Count
+Lovoresco, in the name of his Queen, to sell in America a rope of
+pearls, for the benefit of the soldiers' orphans of her country.
+
+"This clears the deck," remarked Roger. The cover of the oval box was
+raised, and lying in a series of concentric grooves he saw the pearls
+which he intended to buy for Beverley. They were two hundred and fifty
+in number, as he knew, and were graduated in size, the largest being as
+big as a giant pea. All were exquisitely matched in shape and colour,
+and the one fault--if fault existed--was a blue whiteness disliked by
+some connoisseurs. Roger was aware, however, that Beverley loved
+snow-white pearls.
+
+"Any minute Simon Lecourt may be here," he said to Lovoresco. "When he's
+looked at the things, I'll sign and hand you my cheque for two hundred
+and sixty thousand dollars."
+
+Lovoresco smiled under his dyed moustache, but the wonderful eyes, for
+which men of his race are famous, lit angrily.
+
+"You are ze most prudent of gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "Your great
+Franco-American pearl expert, 'e 'as valued ze pearls one time already
+at 'is own place, under your eye, Mistaire Sand. Now 'e 'as to come to
+your 'ouse! Mazette! But you must tink me a smart one, saire, if I could
+change false tings for real in ze last minute!"
+
+"I think some other smart men might have changed them without you or me
+being smart enough to know the difference," Roger explained. "I believe
+in making a ship watertight before she goes to sea."
+
+"You are right," Lovoresco said, shrugging his shoulders. "I am pleased
+once more to meet ze expert."
+
+"Mr. Simon Lecourt," announced the butler.
+
+At a quarter to four--the cheque having been signed--Roger was shaking
+hands with the jewel expert he had summoned, and bowing to Count
+Lovoresco. The pearls were his, and he was impatient for Beverley. In
+five or six minutes she ought to arrive.
+
+Beverley stepped into the lift as Count Lovoresco and Simon Lecourt
+stepped out. As they passed she heard Roger's name, and her heart
+jumped. These were strangers to her, but they had perhaps been calling
+on Roger. What if they were connected with the past terror which had
+begun lately to seem as dim as a dreadful dream? What if they had been
+telling Roger?
+
+Such a thought would not have come, save for the scene she had gone
+through. With her nerves keyed to breaking point she went up to her own
+floor with somewhat the sensation she might have had in stepping from
+the tumbril to the guillotine. It was all she could do not to scream at
+Sister Lake in the hall; and when Roger appeared also it seemed to
+Beverley that she would faint.
+
+Roger did not share the nurse's interest in Clo's outing; but he wanted
+Beverley.
+
+"Good girl!" he exclaimed, trying to be gay. "You're back ahead of time.
+Send one of the servants down with money for Miss Riley. Come into the
+study; I've got something to show you. When you've seen it you'll know
+why I asked you to be home by four."
+
+"I'll be there in a minute!" Beverley answered. "Let me take off my hat
+first. I've rather a headache!"
+
+She turned toward her room, hoping that Roger would wait in the study,
+thus giving her a chance to find what she had to find, and take it to
+Clo in the waiting auto. But Roger, remorseful already for his disloyal
+thought connecting her with O'Reilly, followed.
+
+"If you'd a prophetic soul," he said, "your headache would go. Are you
+good at guessing, Bev?"
+
+The girl was at her wits' end. Already she had almost fibbed, in
+explaining Clo's errand. If only, now, she could have five minutes'
+grace!
+
+"You ought to know I never guess anything right!" she laughed. "It's not
+quite four. Show me the wonderful thing just as the clock strikes!"
+
+Roger pulled out his watch. "All right, baby!" he teased her. "You've
+got just three minutes and a half. Perhaps you think a woman needs that
+time to take off her hat; I'll show you you're wrong!"
+
+He neatly extracted a hat pin which Beverley had twisted into her veil.
+Then off came the hat. Roger led his wife by the hand to the door of his
+study. Beverley was in despair. Her one cause for thankfulness lay in
+the fact that he had forgotten Clo. If he'd remembered to send down
+money, the girl would have been bewildered, and perhaps have come in to
+ask for instructions. There was room in Beverley's brain for no other
+thought than "How am I to get that parcel and give it to Clo?"
+
+"Shut your eyes," said Roger. "The clock's going to strike four now;
+don't open your eyes till it stops."
+
+Beverley obeyed, as in that mood she would have obeyed an order to stand
+still and be shot through the heart. "One--two," slowly struck the
+grandfather clock in the corner; and she felt something cool and heavy
+dropped over her neck. "Three--four!" the clock finished. "Open your
+eyes," Roger gave the signal.
+
+"Oh!" cried Beverley, almost aghast. On her delicate gray dress the
+double line of pearls glistened like huge drops of dew on a spider-web.
+The rope hung down below her waist, and each pearl had a light in its
+heart as if it held the ghost of a rainbow. "It can't be true! It's a
+dream!" the girl stammered. She loved pearls, and knew that these were
+marvels beyond common knowledge. But oh, if they could have come to her
+at another time!
+
+She managed, however, to put a world of emotion into one kiss and clasp
+of her arms. Her silent anguish was disguised as awe. By this time she
+had an inspiration. She felt like the Queen of New York, she said. She
+must run to her room for a look in the glass, as there was only a weird
+old convex mirror in the study. In just a minute--or maybe two
+minutes--she would come back. She could have sobbed out "Thank God!"
+when Roger, laughing at her vanity, let her go. This time he did not
+follow. He stood examining the purple velvet case with the Queen's crown
+and monogram. He had not told Beverley the price he had given for the
+pearls. He wondered if she guessed that they had cost a fortune. Why
+didn't she come back?
+
+Beverley had not even thrown a glance at the mirror. In her own room she
+tore open the drawer where her handkerchiefs were kept in rose-scented
+sachet cases. The largest of these cases she snatched, throwing the
+contents back into the drawer. With fingers that shook, she ripped the
+top of the padded silk cushion, and extracted a long envelope sealed
+with three gold seals. She would hardly have remembered the Queen's
+pearls had the rope not caught in the key of the drawer as she turned
+hastily to go. Before she could save it, the string broke, and pearls
+big as peas began falling like hailstones.
+
+With a cry, she caught the broken ends of the rope together, dragged it
+over her head and bundled it into the drawer among scattered
+handkerchiefs. She did not even stop to close the drawer. As for the
+fallen pearls--a dozen at least--there was no time to think of them, or
+of what Roger would say when he heard of the accident.
+
+Crushing on her hat, which still lay on the bed where Roger had thrown
+it, she ran from the room, stuffing the envelope into her handbag. Luck
+favoured her. She got out of the flat and into the lift without being
+seen.
+
+When five minutes had passed and Beverley was still away, Roger decided
+to join her. He opened the bedroom door, and looked in. Something rolled
+away from Roger's foot on the threshold. He stooped and picked the thing
+up: it was an enormous pearl.
+
+A shock of fear thrilled through him. He thought that news of his
+purchase might already have reached the underworld. In these few
+minutes, while he calmly waited for Beverley, she might have been
+murdered. Things like that did happen. He stepped on a second pearl, and
+saw that others lay on the pale rose carpet. He stood staring. At the
+foot of the bed a tall screen had been placed to keep the light from
+Beverley's eyes in the morning. What if behind it he should find her
+lying?
+
+As he braced himself to go and look, Beverley herself came into the
+room. It seemed that she shrank at sight of him.
+
+"I thought you'd been kidnapped or killed!" he gasped. "What's
+happened?"
+
+"N-n-nothing," she stammered. "It was only--we forgot about Clo--I had
+to take her that money. I----" She broke off, seeing the pearl in
+Roger's hand. "Oh, wasn't it dreadful that the rope snapped?" she
+hurried on. "I wanted to get back to you quickly. I knew the pearls were
+safe here. I just shut the door, and ran down."
+
+"So I see," Roger said drily. All the joy he had felt in his splendid
+gift was gone.
+
+"What are a few pearls more or less compared to Miss Riley's
+convenience?"
+
+"Oh, Roger!" Beverley burst into tears. "Don't look at me like that!
+Don't speak to me like that! You think I don't value the pearls? I
+do!--for themselves, and for your love! I acted on impulse----"
+
+"Quite so. You've done that before. Don't apologize, my dear girl. It's
+not worth it. I care less for the things than you do. Ring for your maid
+and let her sweep them up. I dare say she'll find them all to-day or
+to-morrow!"
+
+"No," said Beverley, fighting back the hysterical sobs that choked her.
+"No, I won't have anyone look for the pearls but myself. Unless you,
+Roger, would show your forgiveness by helping me?"
+
+"I have an appointment," he answered. "I'm late for it now. I shall have
+to go at once."
+
+It was not true. He had no appointment. But he felt that he must be
+alone, and out of doors, in the fresh air.
+
+Clo Riley, returning from her errand at the Hotel Westmorland, did not
+see him as she tripped from car to door, but Roger on his way home saw
+the girl hurry in as if each second were important. Hardly had she
+vanished when a man strolled round the corner. He was walking slowly,
+and looking up at the façade as if interested. Roger, at the farther end
+of the block, recognized Justin O'Reilly.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+BEVERLEY TALKS
+
+
+Clo remembered Beverley's instructions, and went straight to her own
+room, but the threat of the ferret-man rang in her ears. "Tell your lady
+friend a life will pay for this. She's got till ten o'clock to-night,
+and not a minute more."
+
+It was now after five, and Sister Lake was firmly bent upon undressing
+her charge. Clo had to let herself be tucked into bed. Meekly also she
+received the order to lie quite still and rest till dinner time.
+
+Rest! As though she could rest, not knowing what ought to be done next
+to help the Angel! A passive plan occurred to Clo, which could do no
+harm, and her quick wit suggested how best to carry it out.
+
+"I'll be as good as gold," she promised, "if you'll forgive me, Sister,
+and do me a favour. I feel sick because I spoilt your afternoon! You
+stayed in, waiting for me to come back, instead of taking your walk.
+Will you go out now, instead? I'll rest better if you will. Do, please!"
+
+All Clo's Irish powers of persuasion were needed to coax Sister into
+consenting. Eventually she relented. Clo could have sung for joy as
+Sister Lake bade her "good-bye for an hour." As the door of the room
+closed, the girl began counting the seconds which must pass before the
+outer door shut.
+
+"Sixty-two--sixty-three--she ought to be gone!" Clo was whispering, when
+her heart sank. The room door opened. She feared that Sister Lake had
+changed her mind; but it was the Angel who came in.
+
+"I was racking my brain how to get rid of Sister when I saw her go out,"
+Beverley said. "I'm sure you managed it. I've been desperate. You can't
+think what things have happened! Tell me, did all go well?"
+
+The blow must be struck. In a few words Clo described the scene at the
+Westmorland; told how the ferret-man had kept her waiting; how he had
+said that the envelope looked all right, but had insisted upon opening
+it; how he had flown into a rage at finding only folded sheets of blank
+paper.
+
+"Blank paper!" Beverley gasped. "But that's impossible! I know what was
+in the envelope. There were letters. The man must have tricked you."
+
+Clo shook her head.
+
+"I was watching him. He had no time, or chance, to play a trick. The
+blank paper was there, and nothing else. It was writing paper, quite a
+lot of sheets that seemed to have been taken from some train, 'Santa Fé
+Limited,' or a name like that."
+
+Beverley gave a cry, as if she had been struck over the heart.
+
+"Let me think," she groaned. "How can that have been? Writing paper
+taken from the train?"
+
+Suddenly she turned, and came back to the bed, putting out her hands in
+a groping way to Clo. The girl caught and held them tightly. They were
+very cold.
+
+"Angel! is there nothing I can do?" she whispered.
+
+Beverley sank on the bed once more.
+
+"My head feels as if I'd been given ether," she said. "I can't think
+things out clearly. That isn't like me! A terrible day! One shock after
+another. If I talk to you, will you swear by all that's sacred never to
+give away one word?"
+
+"I swear by my love for you. That's the most sacred thing I have, except
+my locket with mother's picture," the girl answered.
+
+"You see," Beverley went on, "I've no one else but you, Clo. If I told
+my husband anything, I should have to tell all. I daren't do that. Not
+because I couldn't trust him. But I've taken an oath ten times more
+solemn than the one you took just now, to keep a secret that isn't only
+mine. Another's life depends on the secret being kept. To save that life
+I was forced to do what I hate to think of. And it's no concern of
+yours, but it would be Roger's if he had the faintest inkling! Now, I'm
+going to tell you one or two things, and you must use your brains to
+explain the mystery. You're clever, and true as steel. You've proved
+that! Suppose a case; suppose you'd undertaken a dangerous mission. You
+have in your charge some documents which could make or break a man. You
+know you'll be followed. You nearly miss your train, but you jump on
+board at the last minute. You see a man--not the one you expect, but
+another just as much to be feared--more, perhaps, because he's a great
+deal cleverer, if not so violent. You think you're lost, but you find a
+friend, a man who helps you. You give him the envelope that has the
+papers in it--a sealed envelope. You've seen it, Clo! He keeps it
+through the journey. At a stopping place on the way he offers to hand it
+back to you, but you refuse. You feel that the thing is safer with him.
+Later, in New York, he returns the envelope intact, the seals unbroken.
+This friend who comes to the rescue is the soul of honour. Never since
+that moment has the envelope been out of your own keeping. Yet it is
+opened to-day for the first time, and the papers that were in it are
+gone, changed for stationery of that train, the 'Santa Fé Limited.' How
+can this have been done? Who did it?"
+
+"The other man must have done it, the one who followed you on to the
+train."
+
+"But he was never near Rog ... never near the man who ... oh, I might as
+well tell you right out that it was Roger who kept the envelope for me.
+I'll tell you the name of the other man, too. It's sure to slip out! His
+name is Justin O'Reilly."
+
+"O'Reilly?" Clo echoed. "How dare the brute have a name like mine?"
+
+"Why, so it is like," said Beverley. "But there's an 'O,' and he spells
+it differently."
+
+"Beast! He'd better, or I'd have to change," snapped Clo. "Well,
+whatever his name is, I believe he must have stolen your papers. Can you
+go back, and live over again every step of the way?"
+
+Beverley shut her eyes, and began to think aloud. "The morning after we
+started Roger mentioned meeting an acquaintance ... a man named
+O'Reilly. He didn't dream the name meant anything to me. They exchanged
+only a few words when Roger passed O'Reilly's table at breakfast time.
+Nothing could have happened then, I know. Afterward, I never heard of
+their meeting again through the whole journey. I should have heard, if
+they had, I think. Roger was with me a good deal. At Chicago.--Let me
+see!...
+
+"I'm calling it back to my mind. Roger helped me out of the train.
+O'Reilly was out already. He stood on the platform, looking for
+someone--or so it seemed. We went quite close to him, but not close
+enough for even the smartest pickpocket in America to steal the envelope
+from Roger."
+
+"Where was the envelope then?" the girl wanted to know.
+
+"In an inside breast pocket of Roger's coat; not an overcoat. It was
+September. The weather was hot."
+
+"Wouldn't it be easy for any one looking for the envelope to see that
+Mr. Sands had something thick and long in an inside breast pocket, and
+suspect what it was?"
+
+"Any one might suspect. No one could be sure. It would have shown more
+plainly if Roger had worn his coat buttoned. He didn't, on purpose."
+
+"Still, his coat not being buttoned would make it easier to steal the
+envelope, if somebody very clever got a chance to try."
+
+"Perhaps. But O'Reilly could never have done such a thing. It would take
+a trained thief."
+
+"Can people send off telegrams from those Limited trains?" Clo took up
+her catechism again.
+
+"Yes, of course they can."
+
+"Would there have been time for this O'Reilly chap to wire Chicago,
+after he followed you on board the train, and have a man meet him?"
+
+"Yes, plenty of time."
+
+"Well, what if he wired to some detective people, and told them to send
+him the 'smartest pickpocket in America'?"
+
+"But ... the police couldn't ... wouldn't ... do such a thing!"
+
+"I don't mean the real police," Clo explained. "Haven't you often read
+books about private detectives? I have. They might get reformed thieves
+to work for them. Can you remember what O'Reilly did next, after you
+both passed him on the platform?"
+
+"No. I didn't look back."
+
+"You don't know, then, whether the person he seemed to expect ever
+turned up?"
+
+Beverley shook her head. "Roger and I went straight ahead to a newsstand
+where _I_ expected to meet a person. Two or three minutes after we
+passed O'Reilly we were mixed up in a big crowd, almost fighting our way
+through...."
+
+"Oh, a big crowd!" Clo broke in. "A chance for that pickpocket. Suppose
+he came the minute you had turned your backs on O'Reilly, and he sent
+his trained thief after you, hot foot, to get that envelope?"
+
+"Ah, but you've forgotten something!" cried Beverley. "A thief might get
+the envelope: I'll admit that. But how could he have another one exactly
+like it, with the same seals, the same monogram, to put into Roger's
+pocket, when he took the original?"
+
+"He could only have it if O'Reilly could have given it to him. Could he
+have done that?"
+
+Suddenly Beverley began to see. A vivid idea sprang into her head, and
+was imaged in her eyes.
+
+"You've thought of something!" Clo exclaimed. "You see how O'Reilly
+might have got the seal with the monogram, and the gold wax, and an
+envelope like the one you had?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I do see!" Beverley groaned. "He could have brought the things
+from--from.... But never mind. That part's nothing to you."
+
+"I want only to know the part you want me to know," said Clo.
+
+"It isn't a question of what I want. It's a question of my sacred oath,"
+Beverley answered. "There was a house where I had been, to get the
+envelope. O'Reilly was there, too. Someone ... no matter who! ... could
+have given him all the things, so he could change envelopes if he got
+the chance. Oh, child, I keep stumbling on to a path where I dare not
+step."
+
+"We'll go back to the train," said Clo. "If O'Reilly had the gold wax
+and the seal, and the right kind of envelope, he could have made his
+plan, and sent his telegram, and had everything ready for the right
+minute ... in the Chicago station."
+
+"Ye--es, he could. But it's almost impossible!"
+
+"It's more possible than Mr. Sands' changing the envelopes, isn't it?"
+
+"That is the one impossible thing. The worst remains. I have lost the
+papers! Whether O'Reilly has them or someone else, I can't get them
+back. Without them, I'm ruined!"
+
+"You shan't be!" Clo cried, twining her thin arms round her idol's
+waist. "You must be saved somehow. We've got till ten o'clock to think."
+
+"If I were the only one, it wouldn't matter so much," Beverley said.
+"But there's somebody who can be tortured as well as killed, if I have
+no bribe to offer. Those papers gave me all the power I had."
+
+"Wouldn't money...." Clo began, but Beverley cut her short.
+
+"No money I could get would be of any use," she said. "A million might
+be!"
+
+"See O'Reilly and make him give up the papers!" cried Clo. "Oh, but is
+he in New York?"
+
+"He doesn't live in New York, but he's here now. I know, because that
+man you saw, Peterson, told me. It was part of a threat he held over my
+head that O'Reilly and some people connected with him should be in town
+just now. I know the hotel he's staying in, the Dietz. But even if
+O'Reilly would come, how could I see him without Roger knowing? It
+wouldn't be possible!"
+
+"I'll somehow make O'Reilly come," the girl promised. "I don't know how,
+yet, but I know I will, if you can get Mr. Sands out of the house."
+
+Beverley shuddered. "How horrid that sounds ... as if I were plotting
+against him, the way women do who deceive their husbands."
+
+"Well, anyhow, if O'Reilly took the papers, would he still have them, do
+you think?" asked Clo, with the sudden eagerness of one who catches in
+desperation at a new idea.
+
+"It's just possible. I can see a reason why he might have been asked to
+keep them," Beverley answered.
+
+"If that's so, would he put them in a bank, or a safe somewhere, or
+would he bring them to New York?"
+
+"There might be a special motive for him to bring them to New York ... I
+think there would be a motive."
+
+"Well, it seems to me, the sort of man I imagined he is, would be too
+smart to have such things on him if he came to your house, and didn't
+mean to give 'em back to you. It would be tempting Providence, so to
+speak!"
+
+"If I were the kind of woman he thinks I am, he'd not expect me to stop
+short of murder to get those papers," and Beverley laughed a bitter
+little laugh.
+
+"Good! If he comes to you and leaves the papers at his hotel, a certain
+thing will happen, but it's safer for you not to know--till afterward."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+THE BLUFF THAT FAILED
+
+
+"You must tell me!" Beverley insisted. "Tell me at once!"
+
+"While Mr. O'Reilly is here with you, Miss Riley without the 'O', will
+be at his hotel, in his room, helping herself to his--I mean
+your--papers."
+
+"My child, you're mad!" Beverley gasped.
+
+"Not so mad as _he_'ll be when he finds out," crowed the girl. "Hurray!
+The whole business is settling itself in my head. The one trouble is Mr.
+Sands. The rest will be all right. Think what to do about him, Angel;
+think hard!"
+
+Beverley thought until her brain whirled.
+
+"I might suggest Roger's dining at his club," she said. "But how I
+should hate to do that! He's vexed already. He has a right to be! This
+afternoon he gave me a wonderful present, a rope of pearls that belonged
+to a Queen. It must have cost a quarter of a million! I hardly stopped
+to thank him, I was in such frantic haste to get the envelope to you.
+The rope caught in the key of a drawer; the string broke, and a lot of
+pearls ran all over the carpet. I didn't wait to pick them up. I ran
+down to you, and I was gone so long Roger went to my room to look for
+me. I came back and found him picking up pearls. I felt my excuses did
+more harm than good. Roger pretended that he had an engagement. I saw by
+his face he wanted to walk off his anger in the fresh air. If he does
+walk it off--if he comes back ready to make up, and I send him away
+again, perhaps that will finish it! Things may never be the same between
+us any more!"
+
+"He was angry because you didn't seem to care enough for his present,"
+said Clo. "But if you can get him out of the house for an hour or so,
+and at the same time prove that you adore the pearls; how does that plan
+strike you?"
+
+"How could I do both?"
+
+"Beg him to go fetch a pearl-stringer, and bring her back here himself,
+to-night. Say you can't rest or sleep till the pearls are restrung."
+
+"You forget it's Sunday, and----"
+
+"I don't forget. But I know a pearl-stringer. She isn't just any old
+pearl-stringer, who might thread on a wax bead here and there, and keep
+a pearl or two up her sleeve. She's the best pearl-stringer in New York.
+The big jewellers and lots of swell society women have her. It's queer
+the way I came to know her, but it makes it good for us. We were
+crossing a street, she and I. I didn't know the woman from Adam--Eve, I
+mean. But it was slippery, and she missed her footing. I dragged her
+back, just in time, and held her up. She's a little woman, no bigger
+than me, or I couldn't have done it. But I got her on the sidewalk
+again, and she was grateful. She's Irish, too, and she invited me to go
+and see her the next Sunday. It's out at Yonkers, where she lives, in a
+nice little house she's bought. I went there once. She said if she could
+do some favour for me, she'd love to. But it's no favour I'll be asking,
+except for her to come out on a Sunday evening. So the only thing is to
+fetch her. Do you think Mr. Sands will go?"
+
+"It depends upon how he feels when he comes in," said Beverley. "But
+Sister Lake would never let you out again."
+
+"I shan't ask her. I'll get up and dress while you see if Mr. Sands is
+back. If I hear from you that all's well, I'll slip out before Sister
+comes."
+
+"Clo, you're wonderful!" Beverley exclaimed. "How can I thank you
+enough?"
+
+"Thanks from you to me! That's good! Just wait, Angel, anyhow, till I've
+done something. Oh, I forgot to give you the pearl-stringer's address.
+It's Miss Blackburne, 27 Elm Street, Yonkers. And tell Mr. Sands to
+mention my name. It might make a difference. She doesn't like leaving
+her mother in the evenings, but she'd do it for me."
+
+Beverley was gone for fifteen minutes. When she flew in again she was
+surprised to see Clo in bed as before. But hardly was the door closed
+when the girl threw back the coverlet, to show that she was fully
+dressed.
+
+"I was afraid Sister might pop in--by an evil chance," she explained.
+"I've only to put on my hat. Well, is it all right?"
+
+"Roger will go," said Beverley. "He's 'phoning now for his car. I'm
+putting off dinner till half-past eight so he can have plenty of time to
+get home and change. He didn't make any difficulty when I told him about
+the pearl-stringer and wanting her at once. He agreed with me that it
+would be best to do such an errand himself, if it were to be done. And
+he was very kind. But his manner was different. I'm frightened."
+
+"Don't be," said Clo. She was up now, had pinned on the pretty white
+hat, and was fastening her smart little cape. "I'll go first to the
+Westmorland and see our man; he said he'd be in, waiting till ten. I'll
+tell him things are in train, but he must give you till midnight, if
+necessary. From there perhaps I can 'phone the Dietz Hotel. It wouldn't
+be safe here. By that time O'Reilly ought to be in his room dressing for
+dinner. He'll see me, I'm sure, and the rest will arrange itself. Now,
+I'm off before Mr. Sands' automobile comes, or Sister Lake. If she finds
+the door shut and all quiet she'll think I'm asleep. Go back to your
+husband, Angel, and I'll slip away on my little jaunt."
+
+"I've brought money for you," said Beverley. "Take this purse. There's
+change for taxis and lots of bills besides--fifty or sixty dollars."
+
+Two minutes later Clo was in the street. The first thing that happened
+to her was a small piece of luck. She had been dreading the walk to a
+taxi-stand, when she saw a car about to drive away from a house near by.
+It was a public vehicle. Clo hailed the chauffeur and gave the
+Westmorland as her destination.
+
+"Mr. Peterson" was in, according to promise.
+
+"You again, is it? I looked for Mrs. Sands," he grumbled.
+
+"I'm her messenger for the second time," said Clo, "and probably I shall
+be for the third, when it comes to settling up. If you get what you
+want, it doesn't matter who brings it, I suppose?"
+
+"Then you suppose wrong. My business is with a woman, not a kid! All the
+same, if you've got anything for me----"
+
+"I haven't--yet!" Clo snapped him up. "It isn't time. But I'm on to
+where the thing is, and how to get it. Only it may take till after ten
+o'clock. That's what I came to say."
+
+"Save your breath! Ten o'clock's the time. If she doesn't want me to go
+back on my bargain she'd better not go back on hers."
+
+He looked more than ever like a ferret, the girl thought.
+
+"Mrs. Sands made no bargain as to time," she said. "And talking of time,
+what about the time _you've_ done?"
+
+Peterson gave a cackling laugh. "What's the female for 'Smart Aleck'?"
+he sneered. "Guessed by my complexion, did yuh? Well, I don't need to
+make no secret of it. My gardeens wished me good-bye and Lord bless me
+when the nine months they run me in for was up."
+
+Clo thought she could come close to guessing what the charge had been,
+and it would have needed more than the word of a ferret to assure her of
+his "innocence." The man was a born sneak-thief or pickpocket. His hands
+were slim and small as a girl's. Perhaps if temptation had been put in
+his way while he "waited at the newsstand" for Beverley, all those
+months ago, he had been unable to resist and thus had missed his
+appointment. Not that the girl much cared as to this detail; it was not
+her affair. But it was odd, almost "creepy," how the links were being
+joined together in the chain of evidence against O'Reilly, the man who
+had followed Angel into the Limited--the man against whom Clo had
+presently to try her wits. What concerned her most was that her first
+attempt at bluff had failed. Something in Peterson's manner forced her
+to believe that he had indeed served out his full sentence, and for the
+moment had nothing to fear from the police. Clodagh hid her
+disappointment with a little swagger.
+
+"It suits us just as well as you, to finish up at ten o'clock and get it
+over," she said. "If we can, we will. If we can't, you'll have to wait.
+The way things are, you have to be in with us, you see, not against us."
+
+"Oh, do I? I ain't so sure!" he flung back. "I ain't sure my fine
+madam's not in the game t'other way round--and her husband, too. I know
+now that she and Roger Sands travelled in the same train from where she
+started. Blowed if I see why she'd do it, but it might be they fixed a
+frame-up between them. I can see why it would suit Sands, if it wouldn't
+her, and a man's stronger than a woman. Sands was working for John Heron
+at the time. That means a lot."
+
+"It doesn't mean that Mrs. Sands would be disloyal to her word. I know
+she's true as steel," Clo insisted. She spoke crisply, but her thoughts
+wandered. They had caught at the name of John Heron; Beverley had never
+mentioned it. The girl had no means of guessing how it might bear upon
+the case now in her small, determined hands. She did not see how, or
+where, she could have heard it before, yet it did not sound strange to
+her. The feeling she had on hearing it puzzled and even thrilled her
+vaguely. It was as if the name, "John Heron," had been whispered into
+her ear in a dream--a dream not forgotten, but buried under other things
+in her brain. The girl was suddenly alert. There was only one fact which
+she grasped with straining certainty. In that buried dream there were
+other sounds connected with the whispered name: sounds of sobbing, as of
+someone crying in the dark.
+
+"Anyhow," Peterson went on, "there was a frame-up, and those that was in
+it has got to pay me for what I went through. That's partly why I'm here
+in Noo York. If I don't have those papers by ten I'll show up at the
+Sands flat and ask for the missis."
+
+"You wouldn't find Mr. Sands at home," the girl cut in. "He's out. When
+he comes back he's likely to go away again at once."
+
+"Aw, he is, is he?" echoed Peterson. His personality waked up
+secretively, like that of some weak, night animal hiding in a wood. Clo
+eyed him, striving to make him out.
+
+"Better go home, kiddy," he advised. His tone was good-natured. "Shall I
+see you back to where you live, or----"
+
+"I have another errand to do," the girl announced with dignity. She had
+meant to telephone from the Westmorland to the Dietz, and learn if
+Justin O'Reilly was in; but now she determined not to do so. Better
+waste a little time rather than Peterson should hear her inquiring for
+O'Reilly. Instead of waiting to telephone, she walked to the door and
+asked a half-baked youth in hotel livery to call her a taxi.
+
+"If ferret-face tries to follow I'll lead him a dance!" she thought. But
+ferret-face seemed to read her mind, and be willing to relieve it.
+
+"So long!" he said. "I've got a job o' work, too. It will take me till
+about ten. After that I shall be lookin' for a call from you or her
+ladyship."
+
+He turned his back and sauntered to the elevator. Before the taxi had
+arrived he had been shot up to regions above.
+
+"So that's all right!" Clo muttered to herself, spinning toward the
+Dietz. Yet, as she said the words, she wondered if it _was_ all right.
+Why had Peterson's whole personality made a kind of "lightning change"
+on hearing that Sands (whom he expressed a wish to see) would not be at
+home that night? Ought she to 'phone to Beverley and put her on guard?
+Yes, she would telephone from the Dietz, while waiting to see O'Reilly.
+It would be safe, because Roger by this time should be far away.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+THE BLUFF THAT WON
+
+
+Justin O'Reilly had a modest suite in the magnificent Dietz. It adjoined
+the luxurious suite of Mr. and Mrs. John Heron, and consisted of a small
+sitting-room, a bedroom, and bath. He was tying his necktie when the
+telephone bell rang. He grabbed the receiver as if it were a snake that
+had to be throttled, and gave it a grudging "Hello!"
+
+"A lady to see you," a voice answered.
+
+"She wasn't told I'm in, I hope? A nice thing for a well-regulated hotel
+if----"
+
+"No, but she says it's important. She's Miss O'Reilly."
+
+Miss O'Reilly! The man of that name was perplexed. The only Miss
+O'Reilly who, as far as he knew, could possibly call on him, was the
+last woman he would have expected to do so. He had come to New York
+largely in the hope of seeing her. She had refused to see him.
+
+"Tell her I'll be down in three minutes," he replied.
+
+"She particularly doesn't want you to come down. She says she has some
+private news for you, and asks if you'll see her in your own
+sitting-room."
+
+"All right," he tried to answer calmly. "Have the lady shown up."
+
+He rushed back into his bedroom to wrestle once more with the tie. He
+must be ready to receive Miss O'Reilly at the door, and his waistcoat
+and coat were yet to put on. But it could be managed. The suite was on
+the fifteenth floor, and a full minute's walk from the lift for an old
+person like Miss O'Reilly. Bungling everything in his haste, he tried to
+think what it might mean. It looked as if she must have changed her
+mind, and be ready to sell him her house, the dear old house on which he
+had set his heart. Perhaps she would demand a higher price than he had
+offered. Well, he must pay it somehow. Heron would lend him the
+money--but no, there were reasons why O'Reilly didn't wish to accept
+favours from Heron, often as they had been pressed upon him. As he
+slipped into his coat, he heard the expected rap at his sitting-room
+door, and hurried to open it. A page-boy, acting as guide, had run ahead
+of the lady, to knock.
+
+"Miss O'Reilly to see Mr. O'Reilly," he announced, with Irish relish of
+the Irish name. Then he erased himself. O'Reilly stood on the threshold,
+waiting for the right lady to appear, and meanwhile dodged back from the
+wrong one, a small, slim flapper in white, who for some reason had
+paused before his door. She stood quite still, and stared up at him
+unwinkingly, as a child stares.
+
+"I beg your pardon," O'Reilly said, wanting to laugh. "May I pass? I
+must look for a lady who----"
+
+"I'm the lady," the creature in white intervened. "That is, I am if you
+are Mr. O'Reilly."
+
+"O'Reilly's my name," he admitted. "But I was expecting--or--perhaps my
+cousin sent you?"
+
+"Perhaps I am your cousin," suggested the girl who (Justin saw, now that
+he looked her deliberately in the face) had the biggest, blackest eyes,
+and the whitest skin he had ever seen. She had, also, red hair under a
+fetching hat. Although the child was no beauty, she had an amusing,
+elfin air.
+
+"Delighted, I'm sure," he felt obliged to answer. "I thought I had only
+one cousin in the world, Theresa O'Reilly, of Gramercy Park. But----"
+
+"It sounds like the chorus of a song; 'Theresa O'Reilly, of Gramercy
+Park,'" Clo was unable to resist remarking, with her strongest brogue.
+"Will you please ask me in?" she said. "My errand's very pressing."
+
+Mechanically the man stepped aside and let her walk into the room. He
+began to suspect that he had been "spoofed." He did not invite the young
+person to be seated, but looked at her expectantly. Her first move was
+to shut the door. She did not speak.
+
+"May I know your name?" he inquired, as they faced each other.
+
+"The same as yours, but for a letter or two," said Clo, marking time.
+"That's why I may be a cousin; one never knows. I didn't come to talk
+about the family tree, though, Mr. O'Reilly. I came to beg--not for
+money, so don't be frightened."
+
+"I'm not conscious of fear," laughed O'Reilly. He couldn't help
+laughing. He didn't believe the girl's name was the "same as his." "If
+I'm not afraid, I am curious," he confessed. "What are you going to beg
+for, if not money? Is this a message from my cousin----?"
+
+Clo ceased suddenly to be impish. She had got into the enemy's fastness
+by her impishness, but she could go no further on that line. This man,
+being the exact opposite of the type expected, upset her plan. A big
+danger was that she might like this O'Reilly instead of hating him, he
+was so pleasant and gallant-looking, more a protector than a persecutor
+of women. She might hesitate to cheat or trick him in whatever way came
+handy, and thus fail the Angel on top of all her boasts. In her hot
+little heart Clo prayed for the wisdom of the serpent, and as her elfin
+face took on anxious lines, she became more interesting to O'Reilly. Her
+white face looked pinched and desperate. "If I were Marat, and she
+Charlotte Corday," was the thought that jumped into his head, "she would
+stab me."
+
+"It's a good thing for me you have a cousin, or maybe you wouldn't have
+let me in. I know now why God gave me the name of Riley. I guess he'll
+forgive me for borrowing the 'O.' I was obliged to get to you somehow.
+That was the one way I could think of."
+
+"It was a pretty smart way," O'Reilly flattered her. "But you haven't
+told me----"
+
+"I will. Only--I think I'll have to sit down. I feel rather--queer----"
+
+"Good lord! You can't faint here!"
+
+"I won't, unless you make me, I'll promise that!" She had her cue now.
+
+"Sit down, for heaven's sake!" said O'Reilly, pulling up the biggest
+chair in the room. Clo sank into it. Closing her eyes, she drew in a
+gasping breath which made her girlish bosom heave.
+
+The man stood by, feeling absurdly helpless.
+
+"Shall I ring for brandy?" he suggested.
+
+"No--please!" She opened her great eyes again. "Only listen. I've come
+from Mrs. Roger Sands--to beg you for those papers of hers."
+
+"Mrs. Roger Sands! Her papers? I know nothing of any papers belonging to
+Mrs. Roger Sands," O'Reilly exclaimed. "What papers are you talking
+about?"
+
+"The ones you hired a man to steal when the train got to Chicago."
+
+O'Reilly started. "Whose accusation is that?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Not hers; it's mine."
+
+"Yours! Once again, who are you? What are you in this?"
+
+"I'm nobody! I'm only--a lion's mouse."
+
+O'Reilly did not ask what it meant to be a lion's mouse. He understood.
+His mind was not less quick than hers.
+
+"And I'm the net you hope to gnaw! Miss Mouse, your little teeth will
+find me tough. I may say I'm a patent, ungnawable net. The best thing
+for you is to go home as fast as you can and tell those who sent
+you----"
+
+"I sent myself," Clo explained, with tired obstinacy. "I told you I had
+to see you somehow. Oh, Mr. O'Reilly, you don't look the sort of cruel
+pig I thought you would be. If you dreamed what Mrs. Sands is going
+through you'd give her back the papers. Don't pretend not to know what I
+mean."
+
+"I won't pretend anything," O'Reilly said. "I do know what you mean, and
+I got the documents (which were not the property of Mrs. Sands) more or
+less as you think I got them. But no mouse, no mastodon could induce me
+to hand them over to your friend."
+
+Clo's eyes travelled over his person. He looked slim and soldierly in
+his well-made evening clothes. There could be nothing thicker than a
+watch, and that a thin one, in his pockets.
+
+"If you would see Mrs. Sands, maybe you'd change your mind," she
+pleaded, in her creamiest Irish voice. "Take me back to her, and take
+the papers along. Then, if you----"
+
+"I can't do either," was O'Reilly's ultimatum. "I'll take you downstairs
+and put you in your car if you've got one, or a taxi if you haven't.
+But----"
+
+"You'll have to take me home," said Clo. "I won't try to start without
+you. I've gone through enough. I'll just let myself collapse. I promised
+not to faint unless you made me. Now you are making me."
+
+"You deserve to be thrown out of the window!"
+
+"I have been, once," the pale girl announced. "It was four storeys up,
+and all my ribs were smashed. This is my first day out of bed. I thought
+I could manage it, if you were kind. I'd gladly die for Mrs. Sands. And
+if I do----"
+
+"Brace up!" O'Reilly cried. "I'll take you home. I know where the house
+is. I passed it this afternoon. There was a man who----But no matter.
+Have you got a car below?"
+
+Clo was almost past answering; almost, not quite. But weakness was her
+"cue," as well as the line of least resistance. Having now an incentive
+to let herself go rather than "brace up" as O'Reilly urged, she enjoyed
+collapsing. Yet something within was on guard, and knew that O'Reilly
+had to be watched.
+
+He dashed to the telephone and ordered a taxi. Then he returned to the
+girl in the chair. Her eyes were half shut, a rim of white showing
+between the lashes. The man could not help believing the queer story she
+had gasped out, about the fall, and the broken ribs, and this being the
+first day she had left her bed. That would account for her thinness and
+paleness. He touched her hand, which hung over the arm of the chair.
+There was no glove on it, and the pathetically small thing was icy cold.
+
+"She's fainted, fast enough," he growled. Clo heard the words dimly, as
+though she had cotton wool in her ears. Her duty was to trick the man,
+but she didn't like doing that duty.
+
+O'Reilly gently laid down the tiny paw he had taken in his. It was limp
+as the hand of a dead girl. Clo would have felt less compunction if he
+had dropped it roughly. He took a few brisk steps, as though he had come
+to some decision. She forced herself back from the brink of
+unconsciousness to realize that he was going toward the door--not the
+outer door, through which she had entered, but another. He opened this,
+and Clo saw that beyond was a bedroom. Quickly he went to a table where
+stood a tall glass jug filled with crushed ice and water. His back was
+turned to the girl as he began pouring the jug's contents into a
+tumbler, but suddenly, as if on a strong impulse, he turned. Clo did not
+even quiver. Something told her that the thing she had prayed for was
+about to happen.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+O'REILLY'S WAISTCOAT POCKET
+
+
+O'Reilly's first look into the sitting room was not for the girl.
+Involuntarily, it seemed, he sent a lightning glance to the left, to
+that side of the room farthest from the big chair where she sat. Clo's
+desperate need to know what was in his head inspired her with
+clairvoyance. Consciousness lit her brain once more. She was sure that
+she had read his thoughts. He feared that after all she was fooling him.
+He was saying in his mind: "What if she meant me to go and fetch this
+water while she looks for what she wants to find?"
+
+Now Clo was certain at last, not only of his having the papers, but that
+they were in the room, somewhere on that left side, where his glance had
+flashed. It was hard to keep still, without the flicker of an eyelash;
+but she believed, as O'Reilly came back to her, that she had stood the
+test of his stare.
+
+He moistened his handkerchief, and gingerly dabbed the girl's forehead.
+It was a relief to "come to," to be able to start, and draw a long
+breath.
+
+"There! You're better, aren't you?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," she breathed. "I should like to go home, but I'm afraid----"
+
+"Don't be. I'm going with you," he said. "By this time a taxi's waiting
+for us. Do you think you can walk if I give you my arm?"
+
+"I'll try," Clo answered, gratefully.
+
+No pretence of weakness was needed. She felt like a rag. O'Reilly took
+her by the hand, and with an arm round the slim waist raised the girl to
+her feet. Once up, she swayed as if she might fall, but he held her
+firmly. "Lean against me," he said, in a kind voice.
+
+She had never before been so near to a man in her life. "You're very
+good to me," she whispered. "I should like you, please, to remember that
+I thank you."
+
+"I'm sorry I said you deserved to be thrown out of the window," O'Reilly
+absolved himself. "Whatever else you may be, you're a good plucked one.
+Now, here we are at the door. Are you sure you can walk to the elevator?
+Hang on to my arm."
+
+She hung on to it.
+
+They reached the lift, which came to them in a few seconds, unoccupied
+save for the youth who ran it. Clodagh kept up bravely until she was
+seated in the taxi, and could have kept up until the end without too
+great an effort, for her collapse had made her feel rested. It was not,
+however, the girl's métier to "keep up." The task was but half
+accomplished. The hardest part was to come.
+
+She knew--or thought she knew--that O'Reilly had the papers, that they
+were in New York; not only in New York, but in his private sitting room
+at the Dietz Hotel. They were in some hiding-place there; and for an
+instant he had feared her knowledge of its existence. He had expected
+her to try, while his back was turned, to steal its contents. Clo's
+nimble brain, deducing all this from what had happened, deduced
+something else as well. The man would have had no fear if the secret
+were impossible for an outsider to learn. It could not be impossible. It
+couldn't even be difficult, if she might have solved the puzzle while
+his back was turned. For her, O'Reilly's uneasiness was a hopeful sign.
+Somewhere on the window side of his private parlour at the Dietz the
+papers which Angel needed were hidden. Each second during the girl's
+slow progress to the lift, her descent, and her short walk to the taxi,
+was spent in sorting out these deductions.
+
+Those big black eyes of Clodagh Riley's had not been given her in vain.
+One swift glance during the cold-water treatment had shown her many
+details useful to remember. On one side of the window was a desk. In the
+desk was a drawer, and the key thereof was in the keyhole. It seemed
+improbable that secret papers should be kept in such a place, but
+circumstances might have forced O'Reilly to leave them there.
+
+On the other side of the window was a kind of buffet, with glass doors
+and shelves and a closed cupboard, but Clo had less hope of this than of
+the desk. There might be a less obvious hiding hole than either, perhaps
+a sliding panel in the wall. There must in any case be a key, and that
+key must be on the person of O'Reilly.
+
+She would have to use all her wits to get it while they were together in
+the taxi! And there was the key of the suite to get also; but that would
+be easier. She had seen O'Reilly take the big key from a table, as they
+went by, slipping it into the pocket of his dinner jacket. Forced to
+support his half-fainting guest, he had not put on an outer coat, so the
+key was within reach of clever and determined fingers. Clodagh's were
+determined, and--she hoped--clever.
+
+With this design burning in her head and tingling in her hands, she
+decided to faint again as they started for home, and keep O'Reilly
+occupied every inch of the way.
+
+"I'm afraid--I'm not so strong--after all----" she sighed, as the taxi
+door shut, and proceeded to "flop" like a large rag doll. Her head fell
+on the man's breast, and rolled across to his left arm, her hat askew.
+
+"I'm very ill," she moaned. "Something hurts so! My hat-pin----" And her
+voice trailed into silence.
+
+"Poor child!" the man exclaimed, completely taken in at last. The
+hat-pin was sticking in very deep! Not that she minded a little pain.
+But the great thing was to keep O'Reilly's hands busy.
+
+Clumsily, obstinately, he fumbled among the meshes of ostrich plume
+wound around her hat. The head of the pin eluding him there, he tried
+beneath the brim, his fingers tangling in thick waves of hair. They were
+soft waves, softer and silkier than the ostrich plume. No man with blood
+in his veins could have touched them without a thrill. The girl on his
+breast, her face on his arm, one hand holding her up, another caught in
+her hair, O'Reilly was conscious of electric shocks.
+
+His hands and attention thus engaged, Clo got the chance she'd waited
+for. Delicately, stealthily, like the "mouse" she called herself, she
+extracted the door key from O'Reilly's pocket. So far, so good. But the
+next deed would try her mettle. Lightly as a flitting shadow the small
+fingers moved over the man's waistcoat, from the belt line to the
+breast. She could feel his heart thump, and almost started, but
+controlled herself.
+
+Clo had noticed that men often wore a short chain or ribbon, attached to
+a watch, and hanging from the waistcoat pocket with a seal, a society
+badge or a lucky souvenir. O'Reilly wore no ornament of that sort; but
+there was a watch, a thin watch which she could feel through the cloth,
+and some flat object with it. If she could slip a finger into that
+pocket without his knowing!
+
+But now they were in Park Avenue, not far from the imposing apartment
+house at the corner, where Mr. and Mrs. Sands lived. Clo availed herself
+of a slight bump, and showed signs of sliding off the seat. O'Reilly,
+who had just extracted the hat-pin and stuck it into his coat, steadied
+her with an effort. Fortunately there was no need to look out and stop
+the chauffeur. That afternoon O'Reilly had passed the building, informed
+by Count Lovoresco who lived there, and had looked up with a certain
+curiosity. He remembered the number, and in leaving the Dietz had been
+able to give the address.
+
+The taxi stopped, and O'Reilly prepared to carry the fainting girl into
+the house. She would be a light load. As he got out of the taxi with Clo
+in his arms a man came forward.
+
+"Won't you let me help you, sir?" he civilly inquired.
+
+"You may run ahead," said O'Reilly. "I can manage the young lady
+myself."
+
+The man who had offered his services disappeared into the house, and
+found the porter, a substantial person in livery. Clo conveniently
+revived when placed on the seat of the lift. O'Reilly sat by her side,
+supporting the limp body, her hat in his hand, while the porter shot the
+elevator up to the Sands' floor.
+
+"Lord a'mighty!" the old fellow exclaimed, "if this ain't the poor child
+that's been an invalid all these weeks! Mrs. Sands will be in a way!
+Must be near eight weeks since this little gal was brought in on a
+stretcher, lookin' like dead. She ought to be in bed."
+
+"Somebody should have looked after her," said O'Reilly.
+
+"That's it, sir. Her nurse is out, gaddin'."
+
+"Brute!" Clo heard O'Reilly mutter. And leaning comfortably against his
+shoulder she felt wicked, treacherous, because she had more than once
+applied the same epithet to him. Whatever happened, never would she do
+that again!
+
+The elevator stopped. The porter touched the electric bell at the Sands'
+door, and almost instantly a manservant appeared. His cry of surprise
+brought Mrs. Sands herself out from a room at the end of the hall. The
+porter tried to explain everything; failed; broke off to question
+O'Reilly; O'Reilly answered; Beverley exclaimed; and among them, all was
+confusion. Clo, looking through half-shut eyes over her bearer's
+shoulder, saw a shadow flit between the portières. Had some one come in?
+If so, who could it be? Or was it only the shadow of a blowing curtain
+she had seen? The question did not strike her as important just then,
+for if any one had passed it was doubtless a servant or, at worst,
+Sister Lake. Besides, Clo had much to think of; how to come back to
+consciousness quickly without rousing suspicion, and, when officially
+alive again, how to escape for the next errand.
+
+The rush of air and babble of excited voices gave her an excuse to gasp,
+and stammer out a conventional "Where am I?"
+
+"We'll get you to your room, dear," said Beverley; and Clo wondered if
+her acting had deceived Angel. "The butler can----"
+
+"No, thanks, I'll manage her by myself," O'Reilly broke in and carried
+the white bundle along the hall.
+
+"This is her room," Mrs. Sands explained to him. "If you will put her on
+the bed...."
+
+"No--please! Take me on into the next room, Sister Lake's room. I must
+be there. I'll tell you why presently," the girl pleaded.
+
+Beverley threw open the door between the two rooms, hurried ahead, and
+turned on a light.
+
+"Now, lay me on this bed," Clo commanded.
+
+Having obeyed, O'Reilly stood as if awaiting further orders. Clo glanced
+from him imploringly to Mrs. Sands. "I've gone through such a lot!" she
+moaned. "I've suffered so! I felt I could never get home alive. Please,
+Mr. O'Reilly--you've been kind--don't let it all be for nothing!"
+
+"What do you want of me?" he stiffly inquired.
+
+"Only for you to talk to Mrs. Sands. In that next room--my room. Nobody
+will disturb you. If the nurse comes back, she'll come into her own room
+first. That's why I asked you to bring me to it. I couldn't persuade you
+to give me the papers. Perhaps even Mrs. Sands can't persuade you. But I
+beg, I pray you, to give her the chance. Listen to what she has to say."
+
+"Very well," he answered, grudgingly. "I'll do what you ask. But I'll do
+it for your sake."
+
+Beverley had remained on the threshold of the next room. Now she
+retreated into it. O'Reilly followed; but at the door he turned.
+"Good-bye," he said to Clo.
+
+"Good-bye," she echoed. "And thank you again--for everything."
+
+She had more to thank him for than he knew--the contents of her tightly
+clutched hand.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+THE HORIZONTAL PANEL
+
+
+Following Mrs. Sands, O'Reilly left the door between the two rooms open;
+but Beverley stepped quickly back and closed it.
+
+"She's grand, the darling!" thought Clo. "Trust her to forget nothing.
+Her shutting that door proves how she counts on me."
+
+The girl was deadly tired, and her head ached, yet she struggled up as
+the door clicked. O'Reilly had brought in her hat and dropped it on a
+table. There was no hat-pin, but Clo crushed the soft toque down over
+her masses of red hair, and hoped she was not untidy enough to be
+conspicuous. Unsteadily she tottered to another door--the door that led
+into the corridor. This faced a narrower passage to the kitchen and
+domestic offices of the flat. Clo would have to take that way because,
+if she ventured into the lift and showed herself in the hall below, the
+porter might take alarm. He might fear that Mrs. Sands' protégée was
+trying to escape for some sly purpose of her own, and refuse to let her
+go till he had telephoned upstairs.
+
+In a quaint outside pocket of her new frock Clo had put the purse given
+her by Beverley. Through her adventures she had remembered to make sure
+occasionally that it had not dropped out. Now she opened the purse,
+selecting two ten-dollar bills and two of five dollars.
+
+"That ought to do for 'em all," she said, "even if the lot are at home."
+And, money in hand, she ventured to the kitchen door. Only the chef and
+a woman assistant were at work.
+
+"I'm Clo Riley, the girl Mrs. Sands has been good to," she eagerly
+explained. "I'm well again, and I have to go out. Mrs. Sands has a
+visitor, and I don't like to disturb them. Will you let me down your
+way?" So speaking she laid a ten-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill side
+by side on a table. She made no reference to the money, nor any gesture
+indicating it; nor did the others appear to see it.
+
+The chef escorted her in silence to the servants' elevator. There was a
+button to push, and down the girl went, rejoiced at passing another
+stage of her journey. Five minutes more, and she was in a taxi, tearing
+back to the Dietz Hotel.
+
+This time she marched boldly to a lift in a long row of half a dozen.
+"Fifteenth floor, please," she said, as if she owned the hotel; and was
+taken up without question. "Thanks to my swell clothes!" she thought.
+"Not far would I get in this place if I had on my old black!"
+
+Armed with O'Reilly's key Clo threaded her way through several corridors
+and arrived at the door of his suite. Her fingers shook so that she
+could not find the lock, and as she fumbled for it, the door of an
+adjoining suite opened. The nerve-tried girl started as if she had been
+shot, and dropped the key on the carpet.
+
+"Silly fool!" she scolded herself as she stooped to retrieve it, and to
+hide her face. If only the people (she knew by the voices they were man
+and woman) would pass before she had to look up! But they were in no
+hurry to pass. They had paused in front of their own door, and were
+talking in low tones--about her, Clo was sure!
+
+In a big hotel, the chances were ten to one against their knowing
+O'Reilly. Raising her head, she tried to eye the pair with airy
+arrogance.
+
+"I mustn't seem to care," she thought, and tried to wither them with a
+look before again attacking the keyhole. The woman was beautiful, a
+glorious, dark creature, gorgeously dressed and jewelled. But oddly it
+was the man who riveted Clo's attention, the man whose eyes gave the
+girl an electric shock. He was a tall, lanky, middle-aged individual,
+with auburn hair and a close-cut red beard streaked with gray. He walked
+with shoulders bent, and had no distinction, despite his well-cut
+evening clothes. But from under a pair of beetling black brows there
+flashed a light which took Clo's breath away. She didn't know what to
+make of his look. It was as if she'd been struck by lightning.
+
+"My goodness, after all he must be a friend of O'Reilly's!" she feared.
+Even that supposition wasn't enough to account for the flash.
+Frightened, she slid the key into the lock, and almost falling into the
+room slammed the door behind her. She did not need to lock it, for
+without a key it could not be opened from the outside.
+
+"I can hold the fort a few minutes now, whatever happens!"
+
+In the corridor John Heron and his wife lingered in front of their own
+door.
+
+"Well, if that's not the queerest thing I ever saw or heard of!" Heron
+exclaimed.
+
+Coming out of their suite, they had caught an impressionist glimpse of a
+figure in white bent over the keyhole, then the figure had stooped for
+the dropped key, and mechanically they had paused in surprise.
+
+"I wonder if she's made a mistake in the room?" Mrs. Heron had
+whispered, and Heron had returned:
+
+"Yes, I think that must be so. She'll find it out and go somewhere else.
+O'Reilly isn't----"
+
+There he had stopped short when the girl raised her head to face them;
+and when she presently vanished into his friend's room like a whirlwind,
+he neither finished his sentence nor answered his wife.
+
+"What's the matter, Jack?" Mrs. Heron asked. "How odd you look!"
+
+("Jack" was not a nickname that suited Heron, but his wife thought it
+debonair.)
+
+"Why don't you speak?" she persisted.
+
+"I was thinking," Heron said at last.
+
+"Thinking what we ought to do?" his wife caught him up. "Shall we knock
+and ask O'Reilly if he's ready to go down with us?"
+
+"No. We can't do that."
+
+"I suppose not. But weren't you going to say it isn't like O'Reilly to
+have a girl calling on him in his rooms?"
+
+"I don't remember what I was going to say," he snubbed her. "It doesn't
+matter, anyhow. After all, why shouldn't he? What is it to us?"
+
+"Well, I feel queer about it," objected Dolores Heron. "The creature may
+be a hotel thief?"
+
+"Nonsense!" fumed the man. "The girl was a child--sixteen or seventeen.
+We can't mix ourselves up in such an affair. Let's mind our own
+business."
+
+"You needn't be so cross. I haven't done anything," Dolores reproached
+him. They went down together, and sat side by side on a rose-coloured
+brocade sofa in the immense salon generally known as the "hall." Not one
+of the ladies present was handsomer than Mrs. Heron, not one had more
+beautiful jewels or a more perfect dress, and all the men openly admired
+her--except her own husband.
+
+Upstairs the girl in question was making the most of every moment. The
+queer little key attached to O'Reilly's watch couldn't belong to the
+desk, still, there might be a box inside the desk which it would fit.
+Clo searched everywhere and everything. At last, it seemed that nothing
+was left to try, when suddenly she recalled a paragraph in a newspaper.
+She had seen it in a Sunday Supplement. Why, yes, Miss Blackburne, the
+pearl-stringer, had given her the paper that Sunday long ago at Yonkers,
+to read on the journey home. The paragraph described the up-to-date
+feature added to some important hotel. Small safes had been placed in
+the walls of rooms for the benefit of guests, each key being different
+in design from every other. Clo could not remember the name of the hotel
+referred to. Perhaps it was this one. If not, the Dietz wasn't likely to
+let a rival get ahead of it. The girl stared at the wall. Any one of
+those panels might conceal a safe! There were lots of panels of
+different sizes, painted a soft gray and edged with delicate white
+mouldings. To test each would take hours (unless she had luck and hit on
+the right one first) for there might be a spring hidden in the flowery
+pattern of the moulding. But--it was to the left side of the room that
+O'Reilly had flung his anxious glance. She would begin, and hoped to
+end, her work on the left side. A few minutes spent in thinking out the
+situation, however, might save many minutes by and by. About those
+panels, for instance? Which were the most likely to hide a secret?
+
+A frieze or skirting-board of gray painted wood ran round the room to a
+height of three feet above the pink-carpeted floor. Above this frieze,
+distributed at regular intervals, were large plaster panels, two on each
+side of the room, forming backgrounds for gold-framed, coloured prints;
+and between these were small, narrow panels, ornamented with
+conventional flower designs. Beneath and above the latter were panels
+still smaller, placed horizontally, and outlined with white curlicues
+and flutings. They were about four inches in height by ten inches in
+length; and on the left side of the wall there were two.
+
+"Just the right size for nice big jewel boxes," Clo thought. "And the
+lower one's just the right height to open without stretching up. If I
+were putting a safe into a wall that's the place I'd choose!"
+
+She passed her finger round the edge of one, the white-fluted edge,
+rather like the decoration of a fancy cake. Nothing happened. No spring
+clicked. She tried the other with the same result, then stood
+disappointed, only to return to the attack with new inspiration.
+
+"I bet it pulls out!" she told herself. And--oh, joy, oh triumph!--it
+did pull out as she pressed her sharp little nails under the white
+fluting. The whole thing came away from the wall like the loose side of
+a box, having been kept in place by thin prongs of metal. Behind this
+cover was a steel or iron door of practically the same dimensions as the
+panel. It also was painted gray, and showed a tiny keyhole like a slit
+made with a pair of sharp scissors.
+
+Clo deposited the cover close by on the desk, where it would be within
+reach if wanted in a hurry. Then she inserted the key attached to
+O'Reilly's watch. It slipped into place. It turned. It opened the small
+iron door, and Clo peered into the aperture. In the receptacle lay a
+pile of greenbacks held together with a paper band. There was also an
+envelope, but not the envelope the girl had pictured. It was larger,
+longer, wider, and thicker. It seemed to be made of coarse linen, and
+instead of the dainty gold seals with the monogram there were five
+official-looking red ones. Clo's heart contracted. It seemed too bad to
+be true. But there was plenty of space in this envelope to contain the
+other, as well as its contents.
+
+"I'll have to open the thing and look," Clo half decided. But if she
+did, how could she make sure of what she wished to know? If the envelope
+with the gold seals had been removed, she had no means of recognizing
+the documents it had contained.
+
+She took the linen envelope from the safe, and turned it over. Upon the
+other side was an address, written in a strong, peculiar hand: "Justin
+O'Reilly, care of The Manager, Columbian Bank, New York City," she read.
+
+There was just one reason to believe that the envelope contained Mrs.
+Sands' papers; Clo's own strong, instinctive conviction.
+
+Tentatively she pressed one of the seals. It cracked across. Another
+went the same way, and as she touched the third there came a sound of
+talking outside the door. "Open it for me with your pass-key, please," a
+man said. It was O'Reilly's voice.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+"THERE CAN BE NO BARGAIN"
+
+
+When Beverley Sands had shut the door between Clodagh's room and Sister
+Lake's, she stood silent before Justin O'Reilly.
+
+"Well, Mrs. Sands," he said, "I must congratulate you."
+
+"On--what?" she stammered. She looked very young and humble, not at all
+the proud princess who had captured Roger Sands against his will.
+
+O'Reilly answered, still smiling his cruel smile, "It's not too late for
+congratulations on your marriage, is it? By the way, perhaps one wishes
+well to the bride and congratulates the bridegroom! I mean nothing
+invidious."
+
+"You mean to hurt me all you can!" Beverley cried.
+
+"I'm on the other side, Mrs. Sands."
+
+"Don't I know that!" she answered bitterly. "I've known since I saw you
+on board the Santa Fé Limited that day last September. I expected--some
+one else, not you. But I guessed in an instant why you had come."
+
+"I accepted the obligations of friendship," O'Reilly deigned to explain.
+"And that brings us to one of the subjects for congratulation: your
+friend. A wonderful young person. I congratulate you highly upon her.
+She informed me that she'd gladly die for you. Judging from her looks,
+she isn't far from doing so. I'm sure you must want to go to her now.
+Oh, by the by, one more congratulation: the pearls."
+
+"How did you know?" Beverley forgot her humiliation in sheer amazement.
+
+"Weren't you told that Heron was trying to buy them for his wife?"
+O'Reilly waived her question with another.
+
+"No, indeed! They were a surprise present to me this afternoon from my
+husband. If I'd known that Mr. Heron...."
+
+"You don't expect me to believe you'd have sacrificed them to Heron, or
+his wife, do you, Mrs. Sands?" O'Reilly laughed.
+
+"I almost think I would. I'll give the pearls up to Mrs. Heron if you'll
+do as--as Clodagh Riley asked you to do. Oh, for pity's sake! I'd pay
+more than the pearls for those papers. I'd pay with my life if that
+would be of any use. I know it wouldn't. But the pearls--can't we
+bargain with the pearls?"
+
+"We can't bargain at all, Mrs. Sands," O'Reilly said gravely. "I must
+go. I have an engagement to dine with the Herons. I should like to hear
+how my namesake is, and then I will be off."
+
+Beverley had expected little from an appeal to this man's pity, but the
+coincidence of Heron's desire for the pearls was so strange that it
+ought to mean something. It seemed terrible that such a chance should be
+wasted. Could she persuade Roger to let her give up the pearls? O'Reilly
+would look at the wonderful things and report upon their beauty. The
+Herons might be tempted to treat with her. In any case, the scheme was
+worth the trial.
+
+Silently she went to the door that she had closed, and peeped into
+Sister Lake's room. It was no surprise to her that Clodagh should have
+vanished. That was part of the plan. Her exclamation was for O'Reilly's
+benefit.
+
+"The child's gone!" she cried. "That means she's feeling better. She
+must be in my room--or in my boudoir. Will you come with me? We'll look
+for her. It will be on your way out."
+
+O'Reilly followed into the hall. Beverley, thinking quickly, went to the
+door of her own special sitting room, which adjoined her bedroom. A
+backward glance told her that the man had stopped facing the vestibule
+which gave exit from the flat. "Wait one moment," she said. "I'll see
+where Clodagh is." As she touched the door of the boudoir she was
+surprised to find it yielding before she turned the handle. This was
+odd, because she remembered shutting it the last time she came out. She
+had left the room only at the moment when O'Reilly brought in the
+half-fainting girl; and she had been particular to close the door
+because of the pearls. She had placed them on a table in the boudoir,
+ready for the pearl-stringer. Not that she feared their being stolen!
+Her own maid had been sent out for the afternoon. Two of the other
+servants had been given a holiday. Only the butler, the cook, and his
+assistant were at home, and all three had been in Roger's employ for
+years. They were above suspicion, and besides, they knew nothing of the
+pearls. Not a soul knew, save herself, Roger, Clo, and now O'Reilly.
+Roger had started off in his car before she brought the pearls from her
+bedroom into the boudoir. Who, then, had opened the door? Perhaps, after
+all, Clo had not dared attempt the second adventure. Perhaps she was
+still in the flat, and for some reason to be explained later, had taken
+refuge in the boudoir?
+
+A glance, however, showed that the girl was not there. The electric
+light flashed upon a room untenanted. There was the magnificent but
+broken rope in its case, wound in gleaming, concentric circles, the
+unstrung pearls retrieved from the floor grouped together on the purple
+cushion. The door stood open between boudoir and bedroom. Beverley
+thought that this had been shut also, though she was not sure. "Clo!"
+she called softly. There was some slight sound, or she imagined it.
+Quickly she went to the bedroom door, and peeped in, flooding the place
+with light. Clo was not to be seen. Turning off the electricity again
+Beverley went out to O'Reilly in the hall.
+
+"Come with me one moment," she said. "I've something to show you."
+
+O'Reilly hesitated.
+
+"Is your friend there? Does she wish to speak to me?" he asked.
+
+"Come and see," Beverley persisted. She led the way into the boudoir,
+and reluctantly her companion crossed the threshold. Mrs. Sands pointed
+to the pearls. "I wanted so much to show them to you. See how wonderful
+they are! Mr. Heron's so proud of his wife. I could arrange some plan,
+I'm sure, if--if----"
+
+A door slammed, and Beverley's sentence broke off with a gasp.
+Mechanically she shut down the cover of the velvet case. If Roger had
+come back; if, after all, he had only pretended to go for the
+pearl-stringer! She dared not guess what he would think at finding
+O'Reilly with her in his house. Too well she remembered the day of their
+one quarrel, when he had brought up this man's name in connection with
+Clo's, when he had accused her of crying it out in her sleep.
+
+"Mr. O'Reilly," she said, very quietly, "that may be my husband coming
+home. If it is, you will have to meet him. It can't be avoided. But I
+should like to speak to him first, if you will wait in this room for a
+moment."
+
+Without giving him time to answer she ran out. Minutes passed. Justin
+heard voices, women's voices. One, it seemed to him, was raised in
+anger. After all, it couldn't be Sands who had come! O'Reilly grew
+impatient, and fumbling for his watch he found it gone. Great Scott!
+Stolen! He remembered a certain small key attached to the chain. In a
+flash of enlightenment the whole plot mapped itself out before his eyes.
+Furious, his impulse was to dash from the room and denounce the chief
+culprit. But Beverley Sands' appeal to his chivalry stopped him like a
+chain round his feet.
+
+Now she called his name, and he opened the door.
+
+"It was my friend's nurse who came in," she said. "She threatens to
+leave at once. I must talk with her, try to soothe her down before my
+husband comes. He hasn't arrived, after all--and may not for a long
+time. But the way I felt when I thought he was here, shows me I oughtn't
+to keep you. Tell me once and for all before you go, now you've seen the
+pearls; is there any hope?"
+
+"None whatever," O'Reilly cut her short. "I'm going, Mrs. Sands. You
+need have no fear of me where your husband's concerned, though I
+understand now exactly why I was brought here, why I was kept till you
+were afraid to keep me longer. Your little friend is as smart at picking
+pockets as she is at acting. Again, I congratulate you upon her. But the
+effort's going to be wasted. Good-night."
+
+Beverley stood still, and let him go. She had no answer to make.
+Precisely what he meant by his accusation she did not understand, but
+she knew that, while she detained him, Clo had indeed dared the great
+adventure. For a moment Beverley thought of the pearls almost with
+distaste. That they should come to her to-day, when she cared for
+nothing in the world but the lost papers, was an irony of fate. She did
+not return to the boudoir. She forgot the mystery of the open door, and
+neglected to close it. She was nervously anxious to excuse herself to
+Sister Lake. Above all, it was her duty to defend Clo. She must confess
+that it was upon her errand the girl had defied authority.
+
+"Please don't blame the child," she pleaded. "She knew I needed
+something done for me--a thing I couldn't do myself. So she made this
+sacrifice. You must forgive us both."
+
+But Sister Lake was not to be placated. If Miss Riley were well enough
+to do Mrs. Sands' errands by day and night, a nurse's services were no
+longer needed. Sister Lake considered herself well paid, and would
+accept no present in addition. The butler was summoned to call a taxi
+and attend to sending down the small luggage. Meantime the Queen's
+pearls were forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+THE STONE COPING
+
+
+This was bad luck! Clo had not expected O'Reilly to track her down so
+soon. But he was at the door. There was only that frail barrier of wood,
+and the space of a few seconds between them! He had discovered the loss
+of his door key, and doubtless the other loss as well. He had guessed
+who was the thief, and what was the thief's motive. He had hurried home.
+A moment more--just the little delay of fitting in a pass key--and he
+would catch the culprit red-handed; he would deprive her of the spoils!
+
+Clear as a "cut in" from some moving picture, a scene rose before
+Clodagh's eyes. She saw herself at grips with O'Reilly. She saw him
+wrench the envelope from her hands as she resisted. She saw herself
+sobbing over her failure and Angel's lost hopes. That picture mustn't
+come true! The key attached to the watch-chain, she had removed from the
+safe door, and had laid watch and all on a buffet. Beside them she had
+placed the door key. Now, as the chambermaid chattered in the corridor,
+and O'Reilly made light of his loss, Clodagh moved faster than any
+figure in a moving picture. She snatched up everything on the buffet,
+pushed all into the safe, softly shut the steel door, concealed it with
+the panel which slipped readily into its groove, and fled into the
+adjoining bedroom.
+
+Lights from across a court showed that the sole doors were those of a
+bath and a clothes-closet. There was no way out from the bedroom.
+Entrance and exit to the suite were to be had only through the sitting
+room.
+
+"I might have known," Clo reflected. Too late she recalled that through
+the nearest door had appeared the couple in evening dress. She was
+caught like a mouse in a trap (poor mouse, who had meant to gnaw the
+encircling net!) caught unless--unless! Her heart gave a leap as she saw
+the one way out.
+
+The night was warm, and the window had been opened wide to let in the
+blue dusk. Light from opposite windows giving on the court shone upon a
+stone coping. It was broad, as copings go, broad enough for some white
+roses dropped from a window above to lodge without falling farther. It
+was this conspicuous splash of white on the dark stone which put into
+Clo's mind the word "unless."
+
+The chambermaid was rattling her pass key in the lock. If the thing were
+to be done, it must be done now! Yes, that stone coping ran all the way
+along under O'Reilly's window as well as those opposite. It was quite
+fourteen or fifteen inches in width, Clo thought, and was placed twice
+as many inches below the window sill. It would be easy to step down on
+to the ledge; and only a short distance away was the window of the next
+room, a room in the suite occupied by the couple she had seen. That
+window was open, like O'Reilly's. Clo could be sure of this, because the
+lace curtains were blowing out in the draught from some other window.
+They were of thick lace covered with embroidery, and if one could catch
+hold of a curtain as it blew the stuff wouldn't tear. As for the stolen
+envelope, it was safe in one of those odd, new-fashioned pockets of
+hers. Hastily she made it more secure with a big pin, by which she
+fastened it to the cloth of her dress. Thus both hands were free. But it
+took courage to start!
+
+"Oh, I must, I must do it!" she thought, her body ice, her soul aflame.
+"It's for Angel! If I don't look down, I shall be all right. And even if
+I fall and smash like an egg I'll be no worse off than before she saved
+me. I'll be back just where I was that day."
+
+Uninvited, the chambermaid had followed O'Reilly into the next room. She
+was talking volubly, hoping that he'd mislaid the door key, that it
+hadn't been stolen. Clo, in making her dash for the bedroom, had quietly
+closed the door between, but she could hear that the two were talking.
+
+Anyhow, the girl tried to think, it was the first step that cost! Once
+outside the bedroom window, plastered against the wall, the danger of
+being caught was over. O'Reilly would search the clothes-closet, and
+peer into the bath. Then he would suppose that the bird was already
+flown. Never would he dream that a girl would dare what she meant to
+dare.
+
+Oddly enough, that reflection decided Clo to act. For the moment, fear
+left her free. She stepped briskly over the window sill with one foot,
+and landed on the ledge. It felt solid, almost comforting; but as she
+groped for it with the other foot, horror caught her again, poured
+through her veins like iced water and made her heart feel a dead thing.
+She tried not to think of anything except that kind curtain flapping in
+the wind. She clung to the window-frame with fingers so damp that they
+slipped on the stone. Holding on for dear life--yes, life was dear, now
+it hung by a thread!--she edged along, her cheek scraping the wall as
+she moved. One step, two, three--another would take her so far that she
+must let go of the window frame. Could she reach the blowing curtain? A
+few moments ago it had seemed to beckon. Now she depended on it the
+white folds eluded her hand. If the wind dropped, she was lost. She
+couldn't help thinking of all the things she wished not to think of. She
+thought of that immense depth below her narrow perch. She didn't believe
+the man or woman lived strong-minded enough to forget it!
+
+As she reached out with her free arm for the curtain, a light sprang up
+from the room she had left. O'Reilly was there, searching for her. It
+had been simple to say, while she stood on a solid floor, that he would
+not look out of the window. But he might look out: he might hear her
+feet shuffling along the ledge. If his head appeared now, she would
+fall.
+
+The girl began to shake all over like a winter leaf on a high branch.
+She would have to go, she thought. But the curtain was blowing very
+near, so near that she ventured another step. The lace brushed her
+fingers. With a last effort she grasped a fold. Courage came back. Now
+she had let go of O'Reilly's window frame. She had passed on beyond hope
+of return, and yet she had no firm grasp upon the curtain. Before it
+could give the support a rope gives a climber, she must slowly,
+patiently, draw it toward her inch by inch until she had it taut.
+
+"Angel, are you praying for me?" she wondered. Because she could not
+pray for herself. She could only count. Dimly, she felt it odd that it
+should calm her nerves to count each time her fingers closed upon the
+curtain. But it did calm them.
+
+"Seven, eight, nine, ten." The fold of lace began to be taut. Drawing it
+toward her, she started on once more on that endless journey of a few
+inches. Thank heaven, the light in O'Reilly's bedroom had been switched
+off. The man must have given up the chase, and gone back to the sitting
+room. For the present she was safe from him. But what a queer word
+"safe" was, just then. "Eleven, twelve, thirteen." Thanks to the curtain
+rope, she had almost reached her goal. "Fourteen, fifteen." She had got
+so far that she could let the curtain go and fling her arms over the
+window sill. She threw her body upon it, and lay still for an instant,
+utterly spent now the strain was over. But was it over? No, not yet. If
+her feet slipped from the coping, she would have no strength for the
+effort of climbing in at the window. She would hang for a minute and
+then--drop.
+
+"The papers," she reminded herself, for a mental tonic. "They're so
+nearly safe now. Brace up, Clo! A minute more and you'll be out of
+trouble."
+
+The room beyond was, like O'Reilly's, unlighted. Thank goodness, there'd
+be no squalling lady's maid to give an alarm. Clo allowed herself time
+to breathe, resting on the window sill. Then she prepared to draw
+herself over. Wrapping the curtain round her right hand, and clutching
+the lace firmly with her left hand, she found a heavy piece of furniture
+just inside the window. It seemed to be a dressing-table with a mirror
+suspended between two spiral posts. Grasping one, Clo pulled the table
+closer, till it refused to move. This gave a lever on which she might
+depend. She clung to the curtain and post, till she could plant first
+one knee, then its fellow, on the window sill. It seemed an easy thing
+to do, and would have been easy had not her strength been nearly spent.
+Her quivering muscles responded slowly to this last call, but they did
+respond. Soon she was kneeling on the window sill. Then one foot was
+over, groping for the floor. She had just found it when a key grated in
+a lock, and before she could hide behind the curtains a door opened
+wide. A flood of light streamed in from the corridor, and outlined her
+white form against the blue background of the night.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+THE NUMBER SEVENTEEN
+
+
+To go back meant death, and the loss of Beverley's papers. Besides, she
+had been seen. For once, Clo's wits refused to work. Like a frozen
+flower, she remained motionless in the window.
+
+The figure in the doorway was that of a man. The light coming from
+behind made his face a blank for her eyes, but the girl saw that he was
+taller than O'Reilly and of a different build. Perhaps it was the owner
+of the suite, he who had gone out with the beautiful woman. The man made
+no move. He stood in the doorway as if rooted to the floor. "My God!"
+Clo heard him mutter.
+
+"The fool takes me for a ghost," she thought. "Now's my chance, before
+he plucks up courage!"
+
+Down came the other white shoe on the carpet with no more noise than a
+rose-petal falling. Then followed a second of indecision. Should she
+risk pushing the man aside, and fleeing past him into the hall? No, her
+touch would break the spell. She must go on with the ghost-play, and
+vanish in the dark!
+
+Light from outside showed her the open door of an adjoining room. Thence
+came the draught which had set the curtains blowing. Clo took a few
+floating steps toward the man, then dodged aside, and disappeared into
+the room beyond. Softly she closed the communicating door and slid the
+bolt. Almost opposite where she stood opened a cross passage leading to
+a wing of the hotel. With a bound she reached it, not daring to look
+behind, yet listening with the ear of the hunted for the hunter, as she
+ran. Coming to a staircase the girl plunged down it two steps at a time.
+On the floor below, however, she ventured to moderate her pace. This was
+the dinner hour; most of the guests would be in the restaurant, or out
+of the hotel for the evening; but there would be servants about. Clo
+forced herself to descend sedately, flight after flight of stairs, not
+daring to enter a lift. At last, when it seemed that she had come to
+earth from the top of Jacob's ladder, the stairway ended. Timidly
+following a passage that opened before her, she ventured into a wide,
+important hall.
+
+There was a cloakroom in the hall. Ladies were going into it and coming
+out. Clo heard music in the distance and saw a marble balustrade. This
+balustrade was for her a landmark. She knew by it that she must have
+reached the story above the ground floor, and that the large corridor of
+the cloakroom opened on to a gallery overlooking the main hall. She had
+glanced up and admired that marble balustrade when she first entered the
+hotel. She had seen also a wide marble staircase leading up to the
+gallery. It must be near, she thought, but it was a way of exit to
+avoid. If O'Reilly were on guard below, or even if he had merely
+telephoned her description to the office, she and the stolen envelope
+would be promptly nabbed in the hall below. She had dared too much to be
+tamely taken now. Mirrors were let into the panels of the wall, and Clo
+paused before one, pretending to straighten her hat. She wanted time to
+make up her mind.
+
+The ladies who left their wraps in this upstairs cloakroom must be
+dining in private rooms on the same floor, she thought. "Out there in
+the gallery their men will be waiting for them," the girl told herself.
+"And maybe that's where my man is waiting for me!"
+
+One of these ladies, opening a gold chain bag to pull out her
+handkerchief, dropped a bit of paper with a number on it--Clo's
+favourite number, 17. It fluttered close to her feet; she stooped and
+picked it up. Common sense told her that the numbered slip was a
+cloakroom check. It might mean salvation. She walked leisurely into the
+cloakroom, though her nerves were a-jerk like the strings of a
+jumping-jack. "My cousin has asked me to come and fetch her wrap," she
+explained to a bored attendant. "There's a draught through the dining
+room. This is her check."
+
+The woman accepted it without a word. She presently produced a long wrap
+of black chiffon, lined with blue. "Number seventeen. Here you are,
+miss." So speaking, she removed the duplicate check, which had been
+pinned to a frilled hood of the cloak. At sight of that hood a weight
+lifted from Clo's heart. It was more ornamental than practical, but it
+would be immensely useful to her. If she had been given her choice of
+cloaks, she couldn't have done better. Seventeen was bringing her luck.
+
+"Oh, I believe I'd better leave my hat!" she said to the attendant, as
+if on a second thought. Unsuspiciously the woman took it, pinned a bit
+of paper to the lining, and handed the duplicate to Clo. "Nobody's got
+seventeen now, so I'll give it to you again." This seemed a good omen:
+seventeen for the second time! With the cloak over her arm she sauntered
+out of the room. Then back she went to the foot of the stairs, where was
+a quiet niche behind a big, potted palm, and close by was one of those
+convenient panel mirrors. Thus refuged, Clo slipped into the wrap, and
+arranged the floppy hood. It was far from becoming, for the frill fell
+almost to her eyes; but it hid the tell-tale red hair, and showed little
+of her face save the end of an impudent nose and the tip of a pointed
+chin. The cloak, made for a taller figure than Clo's, came nearly to her
+feet, and holding it together the white dress became invisible.
+
+"Now for it!" she thought, like a soldier who goes "over the top" to
+charge the enemy. Head down, hood flapping, cloak floating, she sailed
+along the corridor and out into the gallery beyond. Yes, there was the
+marble staircase, and below was the great, bright hall; but in this
+disguise she could pass O'Reilly if he had assembled half the detectives
+in New York. So she tripped down the stairs, sedate, unhurried as the
+care-free girl whose cloak she had borrowed. Arrived in the hall, she
+knew her way out, and could hardly subdue the triumph in her voice as
+she said "Taxi, please," to an attendant porter.
+
+"Where shall I tell him to go, miss?" came the question as she stepped
+into the cab; and for half a second she hesitated. By a clock she had
+seen in the hall it was just half-past eight. There would be time to go
+home, time for Angel to open the envelope and see if the contents were
+right, time to tell Angel her own adventures, and time to rest before
+keeping her tryst with Peterson.
+
+She gave the number of the house in Park Avenue where Roger Sands lived.
+The door of the taxi shut with a reassuring "click." It was heavenly to
+lean back against the comfortable cushions! She ought to be entirely
+happy, entirely satisfied. Perhaps it was only reaction after so many
+hopes and fears, this weight that seemed to press upon her heart. Yet it
+was an obstinate weight. It grew heavier as the taxi brought her nearer
+home.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+A QUOTATION FROM SHAKESPEARE
+
+
+    "Not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
+    Perplexed in the extreme."
+
+The words describing Othello's torment rang in Roger Sands' ears.
+
+The words kept time with the purring throb of the motor that sped him on
+his wife's errand. Certain it was that he had not been easily jealous!
+
+He had married a girl with a secret to keep, and he had never questioned
+her. He had made her a queen; and he was her loyal subject. She ruled
+him and his kingdom. Only to-day he had given her a queen's pearls. They
+were his atonement for an hour of distrust. How had she rewarded him?
+Roger reviewed the afternoon, since the presentation of the pearls, and
+there were details which he saw in a new light. So desperate had been
+her mysterious haste that she had broken the rope of pearls, and had not
+even stopped to pick up the scattered splendour.
+
+Roger Sands' heart had been hard toward his wife when they met. He had
+settled upon a policy of silence for the present, while in
+self-protection he watched developments. He agreed quietly to Beverley's
+request that he should fetch the pearl-stringer, though feeling a cold,
+sick certainty of her motive in making it.
+
+He went, as he had given his word that he would go, to 27 Elm Street,
+Yonkers. Miss Blackburne herself answered his ring: and when the name of
+Clo Riley was mentioned, she said at once that she would accompany Mr.
+Sands. Roger was kept waiting only while Miss Blackburne took leave of
+her mother, gathered together her materials, and packed a small bag; for
+it was clear that, if the pearl-stringer were to finish her work in one
+sitting, she would have to spend the night in Park Avenue.
+
+The little woman, whose face seemed almost featureless to Roger Sands,
+was interested in the man as well as in the mission. The pearl-stringer
+had often heard of him in various ways; and her work took her into a set
+who knew, or gossiped, about his private affairs. She had listened to
+women's talk concerning Mrs. Sands, "the girl from nowhere," and, though
+Miss Blackburne was "good as gold," she did enjoy a little spicy
+scandal. She could in future make herself quite interesting to some of
+her regular clients by telling how she had worked for Mrs. Roger Sands;
+and not only for their sakes, but her own, did she look forward to this
+"job."
+
+Secretly, Ellen Blackburne planned some day to write a volume of
+reminiscences, and she had a "feeling," as she sat in discreet silence
+beside Roger Sands in his car, that to-night she would get material for
+particularly good notes. She was conscious that his nerves were tensely
+strung. "It's just as if he were sitting in a thunder cloud charged full
+of electricity, with me getting some of the shocks," she told herself,
+thinking of her notebook, where she would make entries when she got
+home.
+
+It was nearly a quarter past eight when Roger's latch-key opened the
+door of his apartment. Miss Blackburne was impressed, not only by the
+magnificence of the hall, but by the originality of its decoration.
+
+Roger, having let himself and the pearl-stringer in with his latch-key,
+regretted that he had done so. He did not want to see Beverley alone
+just then. It would be better to have her summoned by a servant. Miss
+Blackburne was too observant of tiny details not to notice that he
+stepped back and pushed the electric bell outside the door, which he had
+not yet closed. And when he said to the butler: "Please tell Mrs. Sands
+that I have been able to bring back Miss Blackburne," the small student
+of character guessed at once that he wished to avoid meeting his wife.
+
+The hall was large, and furnished like an extra drawing-room, therefore
+it was not inhospitable that Roger should leave the pearl-stringer alone
+there, with the excuse that he must dress for dinner. He was, he
+explained, going to his club. As he made this announcement, however, and
+before the butler could carry the message to Mrs. Sands, a dazzling
+vision appeared. It could be no other, Miss Blackburne felt, than Mrs.
+Sands herself; and she was right, for Beverley had dressed with unusual
+speed, yet with unwonted pains, in order to be ready for Roger's return.
+
+The vision came into the hall before the butler had been able to deliver
+the message, and his wife's arrival whilst the man was present gave
+Roger an opportunity he would not miss. There was a question he wished
+to ask the old servant, in Beverley's hearing, but he had not expected
+the chance to come so soon. The butler retreated, stepping aside
+respectfully to let Mrs. Sands pass. But before the man could efface
+himself, and before greeting Beverley, Roger exclaimed, "Oh, by the by,
+Johnson, has any one been here since I went out?"
+
+"Yes, sir," the butler replied, "one gentleman has been. He----"
+
+But the vision intervened. "The gentleman wasn't a visitor, Johnson,"
+she said, a sharp note in her voice, almost an agonized note. "You ought
+to explain to Mr. Sands that he came only to bring Miss Riley home."
+Then she hurried on, snatching the explanation from the servant's mouth,
+though she had ordered him to make it: "The poor child came back quite
+done up, nearly fainting. She had to be helped in, almost carried. The
+man stayed just long enough to hear that she was better. Is it Miss
+Blackburne you've been lucky enough to find, and bring back to me?"
+
+All this rushed out in a breath. The lovely lady in white and silver
+smiled at the small person in brown pongee. But Roger Sands was not a
+man easy to play with.
+
+"Yes, it is Miss Blackburne," he quietly answered. "What was the
+gentleman's name, Johnson? Did you hear it?"
+
+There was a trifling pause while the servant replied. Mrs. Sands was
+still faintly smiling, a mechanical smile, and her eyes were suddenly
+dull as glass.
+
+"Yes, sir, I believe I heard the name mentioned," Johnson admitted. "I
+thought it was the same as the young lady's; Riley or O'Riley. As Mrs.
+Sands remarks, sir, he wasn't exactly calling, so the name wasn't
+announced. It only reached my ears."
+
+Roger looked straight at Beverley. The gaze was a challenge. "Was it
+Justin O'Reilly who came?" he inquired; and his eyes said: "if your
+conscience is clean, you'll understand that I'm not trying to extract
+any confession. I give you the chance to clear yourself, here and now,
+that's all."
+
+But Beverley's face was flooded with one of her painful blushes, that
+always came when she wanted them least. She realized, too late, that
+Roger had enquired of Johnson because he suspected, perhaps even knew,
+that O'Reilly had been in the house.
+
+"Yes, it was Justin O'Reilly who came and stopped about ten minutes,"
+she answered, trying to keep her voice as calm as Roger's. "But this
+isn't very interesting to Miss Blackburne. It was good of her to give up
+her Sunday evening! Shall we----"
+
+"Just a moment, please," Roger broke in, still in that deadly quiet
+voice which, it seemed, could betray nothing to a stranger, but for
+Beverley was a knife at her heart. "I must go out presently. Before
+starting to dress I should like to hear the latest news about your
+protégée. She looked all right, and not inclined to faint, when I saw
+her tripping into the house, just before I came in from my walk some
+time ago. By the by I think Mr. O'Reilly must have been with her then.
+He was passing the house, I noticed."
+
+"I don't know anything about that," the answer came slowly. "Clo didn't
+mention seeing Mr. O'Reilly at that time. She rested and went out again
+later. Johnson was speaking of her _second_ return."
+
+Beverley knew that her husband could easily have questioned Johnson
+behind her back, and then have entrapped her perhaps, through her
+ignorance of what had passed. He had chosen instead, to be as frank as
+he was hard; and while she suffered, Beverley thanked her husband for
+cold justice.
+
+"I must dress now," Roger said heavily. "I am dining at my club."
+
+Murmuring some civility to Miss Blackburne, Sands turned away. A moment
+more, and his wife heard his bedroom door shut. At the sound it seemed
+that her heart must die in her breast! She felt a sensation of physical
+sickness, and would have given anything not to have the pearl-stringer
+on her hands. Here the woman was, however, and could not be treated with
+discourtesy!
+
+"You will dine with me, of course, before beginning your work," Beverley
+said, trying to be cordial. But Miss Blackburne smiled and shook her
+head. She had had "high tea" at home with her mother, and could eat
+nothing more, she replied, thanking Mrs. Sands.
+
+"I'll take you to my boudoir," Beverley said kindly to the little woman
+in brown. "The pearls are there. You'll be surprised at their beauty."
+
+Miss Blackburne let her hostess lead the way. "There's a drama here, all
+right!" she told herself. "Has it anything to do with the pearls? But I
+shall know soon, I bet!"
+
+The Vision opened the door of a charming room. The light was already
+switched on, and the new-comer noticed that a door stood wide open
+between the boudoir and the bedroom, which, also, was lighted. Miss
+Blackburne guessed that Mrs. Sands had only just finished dressing in a
+hurry as her husband came into the house. Perhaps, on account of the
+pearls, her maid had been released from duty. Anyhow, someone had
+forgotten to turn off the lights, and ... but Mrs. Sands herself was
+explaining.
+
+"I left the door open between my room and this while I dressed," she
+said, "because of what you see on this table. I thought it might as well
+be here, as anywhere else, all ready and waiting for you."
+
+She made a nervous gesture, and Miss Blackburne saw on the table
+indicated a large oval case of purple velvet, slightly old-fashioned
+looking, and adorned with a splendid gold crown. The pearl-stringer knew
+something about crowns and coronets: duchesses, countesses, baronesses,
+and small fry like that. But this crown was royal. She was going to get
+good "copy" for her notes!
+
+Beverley's hand moved toward the purple case. She was in a desperate
+hurry to get her business with Miss Blackburne over, and escape into the
+hall again. She must try to have a word with Roger before he went,
+though she dared not--literally dared not--go to his room.
+
+"You'll see the pearls, and----" she had begun, when her ears caught the
+sound of an electric bell; a loud, insistent peal.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+THE MYSTERY OF THE BOUDOIR
+
+
+"It's Roger," Beverley thought. "He's ringing for Johnson--perhaps to
+ask more questions!"
+
+"I must speak to my husband," she said to Miss Blackburne. "The pearls
+are in that case. There are two hundred and fifty. About thirty came
+unstrung. You'll see for yourself how they ought to be graduated. I'll
+be with you again in a few minutes."
+
+She flew to the hall, hoping to intercept Johnson before he could reach
+Roger's room. But the man was not on his way there. It was the sound of
+the door-bell she had heard. Johnson was in the act of admitting a girl
+in a black chiffon cloak lined with blue. A large frilled hood pulled
+over the wearer's eyes hid the profile from Beverley. The girl turned;
+it was Clo.
+
+"I'll go with you to your room," Beverley said, controlling her voice
+for the benefit of Johnson, and trying not to show how frantic was her
+haste. It was only when she had noiselessly closed the door of the big,
+bare room, that she dared let herself go.
+
+"What's happened?" she implored. "Why are you dressed like this? Of
+course you haven't got the papers?"
+
+"I dressed like this to make a get-away," said Clo. "I stole the cloak.
+I'll tell you everything by and by. But first, you must find out for
+yourself whether I've got the papers. I've got something--something in a
+thick envelope. That's all I know."
+
+She threw off the cloak of the girl at the Dietz, and unpinned the
+pocket which held the precious package--the pocket which, thanks to the
+pin, had guarded its contents through the whole series of her
+adventures.
+
+Beverley took the large linen envelope, not even thanking Clo. Neither
+noticed the omission.
+
+"Addressed to Justin O'Reilly!" she exclaimed. "It's the right size. But
+what makes you think it may have my envelope inside?"
+
+"Because it was carefully hidden in a safe in the wall. I thought of
+opening it to make sure. There wasn't--enough time."
+
+"I'll open it ... now!" said Beverley. Her words were firm, yet she
+hesitated, and turning, the envelope over, stared at the five
+official-looking red seals. What if it should contain legal documents
+belonging to some client of O'Reilly's?
+
+"Tap--tap!" came at the door.
+
+Beverley laid the envelope on the glass table, where Clo's medicine
+bottles once had stood. Over the red seals she flung her handkerchief,
+lest it should be Roger at the door.
+
+Meanwhile, Clo had answered the knock and revealed Johnson.
+
+"Madam, the lady who came with Mr. Sands wishes to see you immediately;
+it's very urgent," he announced.
+
+"Say I'll be there in a few minutes," she replied. "I can't come just
+yet."
+
+Johnson departed. "Madam will come in a few minutes," he repeated to
+Miss Blackburne, who had been anxiously awaiting him at a half-open
+door. "I think," he added, "she is busy, miss."
+
+"In that case," suggested the pearl-stringer, "perhaps you'd better call
+Mr. Sands."
+
+"Very well, miss, I'll do so." Johnson turned away, and Miss Blackburne
+retreated to the boudoir.
+
+But it occurred to Clo that Roger might be summoned if Beverley delayed.
+
+"Something must be worrying Miss Blackburne," she said. "I wonder if
+it's anything you'd like Mr. Sands to mix up in, or if you'd rather
+attend to it yourself? You know, we've lots of time before ten o'clock.
+If the papers are in this envelope, it's all right. If not, there's
+nothing doing."
+
+Just why Beverley did not want Roger to go to her boudoir she hardly
+knew, unless she feared that a pearl might be missing, and that Roger
+would be more vexed than he was already. Whatever the motive in her
+mind, she felt suddenly impelled to haste. Even with Clo she could not
+leave the envelope. Wrapping it in the handkerchief to hide the address,
+she hurried off with it in her hand.
+
+"You sent for me, Miss Blackburne?" she asked, as she threw open the
+door.
+
+The pearl-stringer stood by the table, looking pale and strange.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Sands," she exclaimed, "you told me the pearls were in their
+case, but they're not. I found it empty. You must have laid them
+somewhere else."
+
+Beverley wondered whether she had become temporarily insane, and had
+hidden the pearls in a place already forgotten. But in her heart she
+knew that nothing of the sort had happened.
+
+"No," she said, answering herself as well as Miss Blackburne, "I didn't
+touch the pearls after I put them away, and brought them in here. Oh,
+please don't tease me! This is too serious!"
+
+"Tease you!" echoed Miss Blackburne. "Why, Mrs. Sands, I wouldn't do
+such a thing! I wish to goodness I'd insisted on your staying till I'd
+opened the case and counted the pearls. I don't think I was ever so
+foolish before! Now, maybe you'll believe that I've sto----"
+
+"No--no!" exclaimed Beverley, calmed by the other's distress. "Of course
+I believe nothing so foolish. Even if you--what nonsense to speak of
+it!--but even if you wanted the pearls, you couldn't hide them. Let me
+think! Let me go back in my mind over everything that happened. I was in
+the next room practically all the time when I wasn't here. The door was
+open between. I could have seen any one who came in. Oh, the pearls
+can't have been stolen. There's been nobody to steal them."
+
+"What about our little friend, Clo Riley?" Miss Blackburne asked. "Could
+she possibly know anything? Mightn't she help with some suggestion? I
+thought hers one of the brightest, quickest minds I ever met. Indeed, I
+owe my life to its quickness."
+
+Beverley forgot to answer. The pearl-stringer's words had sent her
+thoughts travelling along a new path. Suddenly she became aware that she
+had deceived Miss Blackburne and herself. When she made that statement,
+she had not reflected. Clo's return, in O'Reilly's company, now seemed
+so long ago that she had not cast her mind back so far in connection
+with the pearls. She had thought of what she had done since O'Reilly's
+refusal of her request, and his departure. She had pictured herself as
+having seen the pearls in their case since then. But she had not done
+so. She had seen only the closed case, and had naturally taken it for
+granted that the pearls were in it. As a matter of fact, she had not
+actually seen them since she herself closed the velvet case. Could Clo
+possibly have dashed into the boudoir and hidden the pearls?
+
+"I'll speak to Clo," she finally replied, with a dazed look after a
+silence that puzzled Miss Blackburne.
+
+"Please stay here. I'll be back in three or four minutes, and bring Clo
+with me, if she's well enough."
+
+Clo, denuded of the stolen cloak, had flung herself upon the bed to
+rest, and call back the force of her vitality for a later effort. Her
+nerves were throbbing like hot wires, and she jumped at the opening of
+the door.
+
+"Oh, I'm glad it's you!" she sighed, at sight of Beverley. "Have you
+opened the envelope?"
+
+"The envelope!" Beverley repeated. "Oh, Clo, I thought nothing on earth
+could have put it out of my head for a second. But Miss Blackburne
+called me to say the pearls have disappeared. I forgot the envelope. I
+must hurry back. Did you do anything with the pearls, on your way out?"
+
+Clo looked aghast. "Good gracious, no!" she cried. "I went through the
+kitchen, and down the servants' elevator. Oh, Mrs. Sands--Angel--you
+don't think----"
+
+"Nonsense! You're as bad as Miss Blackburne!" Beverley cut her short. "I
+thought that, for some reason, you might have hidden them. Now I know
+you didn't. Clo, this is the most terrible day--except one--in my life.
+I must find the pearls or Roger will never forgive me. And only a few
+minutes ago they were nothing, compared with the papers!"
+
+Clo's wits, drowned in horror for an instant, came to the surface again.
+"What if O'Reilly took the pearls for revenge!" she blurted out. "Did he
+know--was he anywhere near them?"
+
+Beverley, who had been standing by the bed, sank down upon it, and
+stared. "He did know," she said slowly. "And--and he was alone in the
+room with the pearls for some minutes if I remember rightly. You see,
+Sister Lake arrived. She was angry about your being out. I tried to
+soothe her. It was no use. She left, bag and baggage, in injured
+dignity. O'Reilly was in my boudoir. Oh, Clo, it must be he who took the
+pearls!"
+
+The girl herself had said it: yet, when the words were repeated by other
+lips than hers, it gave her a shock. O'Reilly's face rose before her
+eyes. "I don't believe he did it!" she was surprised to hear her own
+voice cry out aloud.
+
+"You suggested it yourself!" exclaimed Beverley.
+
+"I know," the girl confessed. "The idea popped into my head. But it
+can't be true. He's not that sort, whatever else he may be!"
+
+"He went off furious with you, with us both," Beverley said. "It must
+have been he who stole the pearls. There's a strong motive--something
+for him to hold over us, and force us to give the papers back."
+
+"If we've got them!" cut in Clo.
+
+Beverley sprang up. "I'm lost in this!" she faltered. "There are too
+many things against me. I can't cope with them all at once. I must go to
+the boudoir and get that envelope, whatever happens."
+
+"What shall I do?" asked Clo.
+
+Beverley was already at the door, and had opened it.
+
+"If I don't come back to you in five minutes, it will be a sign I want
+you to come to me."
+
+When the door had shut behind her Angel, the girl felt she would be
+thankful for the five minutes' respite. She lay flat and straight as a
+figure on a marble tomb, yet she could not rest for thinking of
+O'Reilly. His eyes seemed to be looking into hers. By shutting them, she
+could not shut him out. When she thought that the five minutes must have
+passed, she slid wearily off the bed.
+
+"I must go to Angel," she said half aloud. But she had not got to her
+feet when, without knocking, Beverley flung the door open.
+
+Instantly Clo guessed that some new and worse misfortune had happened.
+
+"This time it's the end. I give up!" Beverley panted. "The envelope has
+gone with the pearls. I hadn't even opened it. I don't know what was
+inside."
+
+"Gone! The envelope gone!" gasped the girl. "Gone--from--where?"
+
+"From the table in the boudoir," Beverley answered. "I laid it there
+when Miss Blackburne told me about the pearls. It was there when I came
+to you. Miss Blackburne hasn't left the room. She didn't even see the
+envelope. I've searched everywhere for it--but it's gone."
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+DEFEAT
+
+
+All Clo's efforts and schemings wasted! She had tricked, stolen, risked
+her life, in vain. The envelope was gone.
+
+"You can't have looked everywhere," she insisted. "The thing must have
+got tucked out of sight--unless Miss Blackburne ... but no, she's as
+good as gold!"
+
+"I'm sure you're right about her. She is good," said Beverley.
+"But ... she says nobody came into the room while she was
+there.... I asked her. Otherwise I might have thought that
+Rog----" The sentence broke. "I wanted to see you alone," Angel began
+again, "so I came back. You've been so wonderful to-day, you've made
+me depend upon you. If there were anything to do, you'd be the one
+to do it. But there's nothing ... is there? I can't see any light,
+can you?"
+
+"Let me help you to look for the envelope," said Clo.
+
+"Come, then," said the other, in a toneless voice, unlike her own.
+Together they went to Beverley's boudoir, where there was a little
+interlude of greetings between Clo and Miss Blackburne. Then, Clo was
+beginning her search for the lost envelope when Roger Sands slowly
+passed the half-open door. Beverley had left it ajar, not because she
+wished to call him (that desire had fled with the news about the
+pearls), but in order to see that he went out. She stood with her back
+to the door at the moment, but on the wall directly opposite hung a long
+mirror. Clo guessed, by the slight start Angel gave, that she must have
+caught sight of his reflection. He turned and came back.
+
+"If he asks to see the pearls!" was the thought in Clo's head. Her eyes
+met Beverley's and read the same terror there.
+
+Roger spoke to Miss Blackburne, pausing on the threshold.
+
+"What do you think of the baubles?" he asked with elaborate
+carelessness. "Are they above the average?"
+
+The two girls held their breath. Would the pearl-stringer give the
+situation away?
+
+But Miss Blackburne, true to herself, was discretion incarnate.
+
+"I've not seen enough of the pearls, yet, to form an opinion," she
+replied, "but my impression is that they must be altogether
+exceptional."
+
+"I'm glad your impression is good," said Roger. He turned to his wife.
+"I may not be back till late. Don't sit up for me. Good-night."
+
+Beverley followed him into the hall.
+
+"Roger!" she pleaded. "You're doing me a most horrible injustice. I
+can't bear it!"
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked.
+
+"You can't help knowing," she said, "It's about Justin O'Reilly. You
+think I----"
+
+"Have I accused you of anything?" he challenged, brows raised, eyes
+blank.
+
+"No. But----"
+
+"Your imagination seems to be even more lively than your conscience is
+sensitive, my dear girl. What have you done, that I should accuse you?"
+
+"I've done nothing, Roger, that you----"
+
+"All right, then. Why borrow trouble? I must hurry, or I'll miss my
+appointment. Good-night again. Sleep well!"
+
+Roger left her without a backward glance. Beverley felt that she was
+caught in the folds of a vast net.
+
+What was it Clo had said, that day? "There was once a mouse who gnawed a
+net----" Poor mouse, it had tried to-day to gnaw the net! It had gnawed
+one small hole, but even before the prisoner could struggle to get free,
+the hole had closed again. Still, the mouse was ready for another bout.
+It was a brave, bold mouse--a subtle mouse! For some strange reason her
+sole hope was in Clo.
+
+During her absence the girl had searched the boudoir from end to end.
+Her sharp eyes had not missed a cranny big enough to hide a pin, to say
+nothing of a rope of pearls or a large envelope with five red seals.
+Both the pearls and the envelope must have been stolen. Were there two
+thieves, or only one?
+
+With Roger's departure, and Beverley's return, the three women could
+talk with freedom, especially after Mrs. Sands' announcement to the
+butler that he would not be needed to serve dinner.
+
+Miss Blackburne reiterated that she knew nothing of the envelope. She
+had had no thought for anything except the pearls. Their loss put her
+into an embarrassing position unless Mrs. Sands intended informing Mr.
+Sands and the police at once of what had happened.
+
+"I saw by your face you didn't want me to speak when your husband came
+in," she said to Beverley, "so I hedged, and did the best I could
+without lying. I realized that you would want to be the one to break the
+news. But I suppose you have told him now? He'll send the police, or
+some private detective, won't he, to take evidence while I'm here?"
+
+"I do want to get them back," Beverley answered. "But I haven't told my
+husband, and we can't have the police, or even a detective. That must
+seem not quite fair to you, Miss Blackburne. Whatever happens, you
+shan't suffer, I promise. I believe I know who has taken the pearls. If
+I'm right, it isn't exactly a theft. Perhaps if I go the right way about
+it, I can get them again. What's the good of worrying my husband, when
+in a day or two there may be nothing to worry about?"
+
+"M-m-m," muttered Miss Blackburne, "I think you're wrong, Mrs. Sands. I
+have a feeling that Mr. Sands suspects."
+
+"That the pearls are gone? How can he?" Beverley cried.
+
+"I don't know, I only feel," the little woman repeated.
+
+As the two had talked, Clo watched Miss Blackburne's face. It was with
+her as the pearl-stringer had said of herself: she "did not know--she
+could only feel" that the good little woman had something on her
+conscience, something that she was obliged to hide.
+
+Clo had by this time succeeded in clearing her mind from cobwebs.
+
+Suddenly a light shone like flame upon the mystery. "Peterson!" was the
+name that printed itself upon the girl's brain. "If he could have got
+into the flat, he could have stolen both the pearls and papers. Does
+Miss Blackburne know something, and if she does, why won't she tell?"
+
+It occurred to Clo that, if she could have a few words with Miss
+Blackburne alone, perhaps the puzzle might be solved.
+
+"Angel," she said, "if there's been a thief in this house, perhaps he's
+here still. With two manservants, you ought----"
+
+Beverley waited for no more. Any straw was worth catching at. She
+couldn't wait to ring for Johnson. She rushed out of the boudoir, hoping
+to find the butler in the dining room. He was there. And while she
+explained that something had been stolen, that the flat must be
+searched, Clo got the chance she had wanted.
+
+"Miss Blackburne, you're my friend!" she exclaimed. "This means life or
+death to me. I'm responsible for that envelope we've lost. Do, for the
+love of heaven, tell me what happened in this room while Mrs. Sands went
+out and left you here alone."
+
+The pearl-stringer remained silent. She met Clo's great, imploring eyes
+without shrinking, but the girl saw that she breathed hard.
+
+"If you don't want me to die, tell me!" Clo implored.
+
+"My child, I would tell you, if I could," she stiffened herself. "But,
+you see," she finished, "there's nothing to tell. So, I can't."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+THE BROWN TRUNK
+
+
+Clo realized that there was no more to be said, since to accuse Miss
+Blackburne of lying would make matters worse. When Beverley came back,
+to say that the servants had been questioned, and the flat searched in
+vain, the girl had made up her mind what to do next. There were two
+things, one of which had better be done at once; the second, which must
+be done before ten o'clock. The first was to settle with Miss
+Blackburne; and get rid of her. The second thing was to keep the
+appointment with Peterson. It was more important, Clo thought, to see
+him than to see O'Reilly, though she expected Angel to suggest an
+immediate talk with O'Reilly in person or by telephone. She hoped to
+bring Beverley to her point of view.
+
+"Of course, I rely on you to let me clear myself if you don't find your
+pearls the way you hope," Miss Blackburne reminded Beverley. "I'm sure
+you'll let me know when you have news. Meanwhile, there's nothing to
+stay for, is there? I might as well be with mother."
+
+It was arranged that she should go home in a taxi, to save the time
+which must be wasted, waiting for Beverley's car. Mrs. Sands paid, of
+course, and gave the pearl-stringer a present of fifty dollars, "to make
+up for her trouble."
+
+It was not late, as time goes, but on this night of stress and ordeal,
+nine-fifteen was a terrible hour. The instant Miss Blackburne was out of
+the house, the two girls turned to each other, and clasped hands.
+
+"Thank God, she's gone!" Beverley breathed. "Now I'll call up Justin
+O'Reilly, and----"
+
+"Wait till I tell you something I've thought of, then you can decide,"
+Clo cut in. "I believe that horrible creature, Peterson, may be the
+thief, not O'Reilly. How he could have got into the flat, and out again,
+I can't see. But he probably specializes in stunts like that! He has the
+face--and the fingers--for it. I shouldn't wonder if he terrorized poor
+Blacky. She's not cut out for a heroine, is she? Maybe the man was under
+the table in the boudoir. Maybe he warned her that, if she gave him away
+afterward, he'd do for her and all her belongings. That would scare
+Blacky blue! She worships her mother. I haven't got the tangle
+straightened out in my head yet. But this new idea looks good to me, so
+far. If Peterson's the thief--if he's pocketed the papers and the
+pearls--it seems to me he'll try and make a quick get-away. Let us jump
+on him now, at the Hotel Westmorland, before he expects us, and before
+bothering with O'Reilly. These pearls must be well known. Peterson can't
+get rid of them, even to a fence, for any big sum. I think he'd
+exchange, for money, and less important jewels that he might dare to
+sell. Haven't you got something that your husband's forgotten--or won't
+mind if he doesn't see you wear?"
+
+"Yes," Beverley answered. "I have six or seven hundred dollars by me.
+There's a diamond muff-chain, too, and a tiara that Roger himself thinks
+too old looking for me. He proposed to have the stones reset--but that's
+months ago. He has forgotten, I'm sure, for he's given me so many other
+things since. I could bargain with the chain and tiara--and perhaps a
+few bracelets and rings."
+
+"Let me take the jewels and money in a bag to the Westmorland. I can
+leave it at the desk while I do the bargaining. It's best to be on the
+safe side, if you're a mouse holding up a ferret! Besides, there's a
+question we've 'most lost sight of in this business, Angel. We're not
+sure the right papers were in the envelope I took from O'Reilly. They
+might be something else he valued."
+
+"Why, yes!" cried Beverley. "For a moment I counted on their being the
+right ones--the ones I must give Peterson----"
+
+"Well, I've only to see him to make sure," Clo went on. "He may lie, but
+I know I can tell by his face. Angel, waste no time on O'Reilly. There's
+not one second to lose! Get your jewels together, and I'll go."
+
+"We'll both go," said Beverley. "Don't object; it's useless! I won't
+have you go alone. You've done more than enough already. I'm a wretch to
+let you slave for me, your first day out of bed! But I daren't call at
+Peterson's alone, not because I'm afraid for myself, but because of
+Roger. Besides, I can depend on you to keep your head."
+
+"Very well," Clo consented. "The first thing that occurs to me is this:
+we must put on plain coats and hats. My new hat I left at the Dietz: I
+had to! But you'll lend me something. And we'll not 'phone for a taxi.
+Best slip away and not let the servants know we've gone. If you've a
+latch-key, we may go and even get back without a soul being the wiser."
+
+"Come to my room and choose wraps for us both, while I collect the money
+and what jewels I dare spare," Beverley said. As she spoke, she ran in
+front of Clo, and opened a safe in the wall not unlike the hiding place
+Clo had rifled at the Dietz.
+
+The girl selected two automobile coats, one of gray silk, the other of
+brown, both intended to match the colours of dresses, but inconspicuous
+and plain. There were toques made of the same material, with thin veils
+attached. Clo took for herself the brown coat, which was shorter than
+the gray, and pulled the brown toque well over her red hair. By this
+time Beverley had stuffed a roll of greenbacks, a chain of platinum set
+with brilliants, half a dozen sparkling rings and bracelets, and a
+flexible diamond tiara, into a dark leather handbag. Clo helped her into
+the long gray coat which covered her evening dress; and the two stole
+out of the flat like flitting shadows. They went down in the elevator,
+but the hall-porter was off duty for the night, having left a young
+understudy in charge.
+
+The girls walked fast to the nearest taxi stand, Clo trying not to
+breathe hard and so remind Angel of her weakness. As the chauffeur
+slowed down in front of the Westmorland, Beverley held up her wrist
+watch for Clo to see.
+
+"Twenty-five minutes to ten," Clo assured her confidently. "I only hope
+he won't have gone out. Now, you wait for me in the taxi, Angel, while
+I----"
+
+"No, you're to wait for me," Beverley decided. "I can do more with the
+man than you, because there are things you don't know. But don't wait
+here. It's too far away. I might need you in a hurry. We'll keep the
+taxi, so there'll be no delay in getting off, and we'll both go into the
+hotel together. You came this afternoon, so you had better ask for
+Peterson. We can make up our minds what to do next when we get the
+answer."
+
+A moment later a tall young woman in a gray motor cloak, and a small
+young woman in a brown cloak, entered the hotel. The veils that covered
+their close-fitting toques and fell over their faces were not thick, yet
+in the electric light the gauze took on a disguising glitter. The pair
+in their plain wraps, were not conspicuous figures even in a third-rate
+hotel like the Westmorland, and the clerk whom they approached was not
+moved to curiosity.
+
+"Mr. Peterson? He's in; came in over an hour ago, and mentioned that he
+expected a caller; party to go right up."
+
+"He's expecting us, one or both," Clo cut in hastily. "What's his
+number?"
+
+"658, top floor," said the clerk. "The elevator's just over there to the
+left--see?"
+
+"We'll go up together," Clo whispered, "and then, if you really think
+best to see the man alone, I'll hang about somewhere in the hall till
+you come out and call me."
+
+Beverley made no reply. Already she was fathoms deep in thought. The
+musty-smelling lift shot them up to the top floor; Beverley, stepping
+out ahead of Clo, had the air of having forgotten her existence. The
+girl's anxiety deepened. The best she could do was to guide her friend
+through dimly lighted, dark-walled corridors, to the right number, 658.
+Beverley had, before they left the taxi, given the money and jewels into
+her companion's hand. Clo's over-strained nerves began to take their
+revenge. This shabby hotel was an evil place. To her it seemed that each
+closed door hid something secret and sinister. They met no one between
+the elevator and Peterson's room. Involuntarily, the two paused an
+instant in front of number 658 before knocking. No sound came from
+within. If Peterson were in his room, apparently he was alone. Beverley
+tapped--a sharp, nervous tap.
+
+"Come in!" cried a voice which sounded far off, as if the speaker called
+from the furthest corner of the room, or from the depths of a wall
+cupboard.
+
+"Keep near, but not too near," whispered Beverley, and opened the door.
+To her surprise and Clo's there was no light in the room; yet it was not
+really dark. The blind on the curtainless window opposite the door was
+rolled up to the top, and let in light from the brilliantly illuminated
+street six storeys below. As Beverley passed in, Clo caught a glimpse of
+a man's figure comfortably seated in a high-backed armchair in front of
+the window. She even recognized the mean profile of Peterson, outlined
+in black against the luminous square of a window pane, and anger pricked
+her that he should dare receive Mrs. Sands without rising. Then the door
+shut, and Clo, obeying the order to "keep near, but not too near," took
+a few steps down the corridor. Within sight of the door, but not within
+hearing of voices on the other side unless they should rise to a shout,
+she hovered uneasily.
+
+It was hateful to Clo that Angel should be alone with the ferret-faced
+man behind the closed door. He might choke Beverley to death with those
+sly, thievish hands of his, and the sentinel outside would not know.
+"Why was he sitting there in the dark," she puzzled, "like a spider in
+his web, waiting to pounce?" She could not put away the impression that
+there was something more terrible even than Beverley had expected. No
+one came or went. After all, she had been there only four or five
+minutes, though the time seemed long. It might easily be half an hour,
+Clo reminded herself, before she could hope to be called into
+consultation, or invited to hand over the precious bag. She looked
+wistfully toward the nearest end of the corridor. There, in front of a
+window, was a big brown trunk. She would go and sit on that trunk to
+rest. It was well within sight of Peterson's door. Her eyes would never
+leave that door! With renewed life she could spring up as she saw it
+opened by Angel.
+
+"Yes, I've got to the limit!" the girl said. She was so spent that her
+feet seemed to have weights attached to them as she dragged herself
+toward the trunk. Reaching it, she dropped, rather than sat, upon the
+rounded top. No sooner had she touched the lid, however, than she
+bounded up as if she had received an electric shock. It seemed that
+something inside the trunk had given a leap, and that the great box had
+quivered under her. At the same instant the door of number 658 was
+thrown open. Beverley came out.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+MURDER
+
+
+There was something not natural in Beverley's air and manner. Normally
+she had a proud, erect carriage. Now she came stumbling out of Number
+658, and with drooping head, and shoulders bent, crept into the hall,
+leaving the door half open behind her; but she stopped abruptly and
+turned back. Clo, forgetting her own weakness, and forgetting the brown
+trunk, hurried to join her friend. But Beverley seemed to be unconscious
+of the girl's presence. She stood as far as possible from the door,
+closed it without noise, and was walking away again when Clo's arm slid
+round her waist.
+
+"Darling, what has he said, what has he done to you?" the girl implored.
+
+Beverley seized Clo by the wrist, and pulled her toward the lift.
+
+"Hurry!" she whispered. "We must get away as soon as we can, for Roger's
+sake!"
+
+"But what about the papers, and the pearls?" Clo persisted. "Had
+Peterson taken them? Did he give them to you?"
+
+"I don't know whether he had them or not. Nothing matters now, except to
+get home," was the astounding answer. Clo could hardly believe that she
+had heard aright. Ten--five minutes ago, nothing in the world mattered,
+except the papers and the pearls. Now they had lost all their
+importance!
+
+"You don't want them any more?" she gasped.
+
+"Want them?" Beverley echoed. "Yes, more than ever, I want them. But
+it's too late. Don't ask me why. Only--come!"
+
+Clo could not argue with Angel, or oppose her, in such a mood as this.
+She wished that she had taken her own way, and gone herself to "have it
+out" with Peterson. She felt that nothing he could have said or done
+would have forced her to give up without at least knowing whether or not
+the booty were in his possession. As she kept pace with Beverley she was
+screwing up her courage to one last, desperate coup. She would make it
+in spite of Angel!
+
+They came to the elevator, but before Clo could put out her hand to
+touch the electric button, Beverley drew her farther on, to the
+staircase. They went down swiftly and in silence. The entrance hall of
+the hotel smelt of tobacco. They descended into it behind the elevator.
+A group of men surrounded the desk where they had inquired for Peterson,
+and the two girls in motor coats and veiled toques passed without
+catching sight of the clerk who had sent them to 658. Three or four men
+of the commercial traveller type glanced at the gray and brown figures;
+but the elevator had at that moment released a golden-haired, black-eyed
+young woman in a pink evening dress. She became at once an object of
+interest, and the plainly-cloaked pair vanished unnoticed.
+
+The taxi, which had been ordered to wait, was at a distance. They
+hurried to it. It was Clo who opened the door of the cab, and almost
+pushed Angel in!
+
+"Shall I tell him to go to the corner where he picked us up?" she asked.
+Beverley nodded, and sank back against the shabby leather cushions. This
+was Clo's moment. She had led up to it, and decided what to do. First
+she placed the bag of jewels in Beverley's lap. Next she spoke to the
+chauffeur, giving clear directions. Then she slammed the door shut, and
+stepped back upon the sidewalk, motioning to the man to start.
+
+"Angel will be so surprised, she won't know what to do for a minute,"
+the girl thought. "By the time she pulls herself together she'll realize
+it's too late to stop me."
+
+As fast as she dared, Clo retraced her steps to the hotel. She hated to
+leave Beverley alone, but between two evils it seemed that she had
+chosen the less. When the taxi stopped Beverley would get out; and then
+she would have a few blocks to walk before reaching home. As for the
+bag, she could hardly forget it in the cab. The thing was too heavy to
+fall from her lap without being noticed. She would have the jewels safe,
+while Clo tried to bargain with ferret-face on promises of reward.
+
+By the time she had argued away her worst tremors, Clo had again entered
+the Hotel Westmorland. She had decided to say that her friend had
+forgotten something if a question were asked; but the desk was still
+surrounded with its group of talkative men, and she walked to the stairs
+at the back of the hall as if she were a guest of the hotel. Thence she
+toiled to the top.
+
+It was only when she approached the door of Number 658, and saw once
+more the brown trunk at the end of the hall, that Clo remembered the odd
+side-issue of her adventure. She hesitated between the need for haste
+and the wish to solve the mystery that troubled her. But it would take
+only a minute to run to the trunk, to sit on it again, and see what
+happened! Meanwhile, any one who went in, or came out from, Number 658,
+must do so under her eyes.
+
+Curiosity conquered. Clo tip-toed to the trunk, sat heavily down on the
+rounded top, as she had done before, and nothing happened. There was no
+sign of movement within; and Clo wondered if, after all, the thing that
+had jumped under the lid had been created by her own jumping nerves.
+Suddenly the impulse came upon her to try and open it. She seized the
+corner of the rounded lid, but it remained immovable. She picked at the
+metal hasp which covered the cheap lock. It did not yield, but her
+fingers--or she fancied it--touched moisture. The girl shrank back and
+looked at her hand. Thumb and forefinger were smeared with blood.
+
+The girl felt sick, and might have fainted comfortably. "Pooh!" she
+scolded herself. "You've cut your finger. Serve you right for not
+minding your own business. Go to it now, and no nonsense, if you
+please!"
+
+Goading herself to courage she marched to the door of 658 and knocked.
+No answer came, and the girl's heart sank. It seemed too bad to be true
+that Peterson should have escaped during the few minutes spent in
+putting Angel into a taxi. Besides, she had scarcely gone beyond
+eye-shot of the hotel entrance.
+
+"Perhaps he's asleep," thought Clo. She turned the handle, and to her
+surprise the door yielded. She had expected to find it locked. As
+before, the room was unlit save by golden reflections from the street
+below. The girl opened the door wide, and deliberately looked in.
+Strange; there sat the man in his easy chair in front of the window,
+with his mean profile outlined against the light, just as he had sat
+when Beverley had answered the summons to "Come in!" One would say, to
+look at him, that he had not moved an inch.
+
+Clo's theory had gone wrong. She had urged her conviction upon Angel
+that he was the thief; that, if he were the thief, he would "make his
+get-away" in haste. Yet here he sat, in the dark, asleep.
+
+She stepped across the threshold, felt along the wall for an electric
+switch, found it, and flooded the room with light. Still the figure in
+the chair did not stir.
+
+Clo glanced round the squalid room. Peterson had begun to pack. A
+suitcase lay open on the narrow bed. The wrinkled gray-white counterpane
+was half covered with scattered clothing.
+
+"If he's fast enough asleep, I can go through everything," she thought,
+"including his pockets!"
+
+The girl walked in, and closed the door resolutely but softly, her eyes
+always upon the figure in the chair. She mustn't begin to search the
+place without making sure that Peterson was not playing "possum." It
+would be awful, when her back was turned, to have him pounce upon her
+like a monkey. She tip-toed across the room, and stopped in front of the
+easy-chair, within a yard of the stretched-out feet, where she could
+take a good look at the sleeper. His head was bent down over his breast,
+and the girl had to stoop a little to peer into the face. But a glance
+sent her reeling back against a chest of drawers. The top of the man's
+head had been crushed in by some blunt instrument. His forehead and the
+side of his face turned toward the window were covered with blood. His
+shirt and coat were soaked with it, in a long red stripe, and a dark
+pool had formed in a vague heart-shape on the patterned carpet.
+
+Clo had never before seen a dead man, yet she did not doubt that this
+man was dead. He could have been dead for a short time only. The blood
+on the livid face glistened wet in the electric light. It had hardly
+ceased to drip from the wound in his head.
+
+For a time Clo stood still, as if frozen. But slowly the power to think
+came back. To her own horror and disgust she found herself wondering if
+Beverley Sands had killed Peterson. It would have been a tremendous blow
+for a woman to strike, but Beverley was desperate, and she was strong.
+She had boasted of her strength of arm only the other day, to Sister
+Lake, who had tested and admired the splendid firmness of her young
+muscles. Besides, the man had been caught unawares, and had been struck
+from behind; the position of the wound showed that. On a small table by
+the chair lay the weapon. It was a long pistol, Clo did not know of what
+kind or make, but it looked old-fashioned; and there was no question as
+to the way in which it had been used. Someone had taken it by the muzzle
+and struck with the butt end, which was coated with blood and hairs.
+Perhaps the pistol had not been loaded, or perhaps the murderer--(no,
+"avenger" was the better word, with that fear knocking at her heart!)
+had not dared fire because of the noise.
+
+Clo's mind began to work more quickly. She pieced details together. The
+person who had killed Peterson could not have picked up the pistol from
+that table without being seen by him, therefore it had been lying there
+before the murder. Most likely it had lain on the bed, among the strewn
+things which ferret-face had begun to pack. In that case any one
+entering the room might have spied and snatched it, unsuspected by the
+man in the chair.
+
+"If my poor, tortured Angel didn't do this, I can bear anything!" Clo
+told herself. "It wouldn't so much matter for me. I'd have killed him
+for her sake--I believe. But for her it would be horrible!"
+
+The girl remembered the blood on her fingers, which she had found after
+touching the lock of the brown trunk, and this remembrance gave her
+hope. The murderer must have passed that way, whereas Beverley had not
+been near the trunk. "Thank goodness for one good bit of evidence in
+case it's ever needed!" Clo thought. "Who knows but the murderer was
+hiding in the trunk, and jumped in his fright when I plumped down on it?
+Well, if he did, he must either be smothered by now, since the trunk's
+been locked since then, or else he's escaped. Oh, Angel, how could I
+dream for a minute it might have been you? And yet if this wretch was
+dead then, who called 'Come in?'"
+
+A wild impulse to run away seized the girl. She started toward the door,
+but stopped half way. No, she would not fail Angel. The man was dead. He
+could do her no harm. If Beverley's pearls, or if Beverley's papers,
+were in this room, no matter where, even if she had to touch that
+blood-stained coat to search the pockets, she would not go without them.
+
+The dark blind ought to be pulled down, because from some high window
+she might be seen and identified afterward, if trouble came of this
+night's work. To reach the blind she had to step over the feet which
+sprawled beyond the chair; and stretching up her arm to touch the broken
+cord, she was conscious that her dress brushed the dead man's knees.
+
+Next she went to the bed, and began turning over Peterson's miserable
+belongings. She prayed that, by a miracle, she might come across the
+sealed envelope. As for the pearls, if the murderer were of the Peterson
+type, to steal them would have been his first thought. But--it would
+need a stout-hearted criminal to go through the pockets of his victim,
+and if the motive were other than theft, it might be that the pearls and
+papers were still on the body. If Clo failed to find them elsewhere she
+would have to ransack those pockets. The thought was too horrible to
+dwell upon. Frantically she tossed over the contents of the suitcase,
+lifting and shaking every garment scattered on the bed. She peered under
+the pillows; she pulled out the drawers of wash-stand and
+dressing-table; but there was nothing to be found there, not even a
+letter, not a torn morsel of paper which could serve Beverley's cause.
+Clo's spirit groaned a prayer for strength when at last--sick and
+shaking, her palms damp--she had to set about the pillage of the dead
+man's pockets. Some she needed merely to touch with her finger ends, to
+make sure that they were empty. Others had to be searched to their
+depths: and the girl felt convinced that she would die if in the horrid
+business she plunged a hand into some unseen sop of blood.
+
+From a waistcoat pocket she pulled out a small leather cigarette case,
+still warm from the wearer's breast--another proof, if she had let
+herself think of it, that he had not long been dead. In the leather
+case, behind a store of tightly packed cigarettes, was a card--the
+cheapest sort of visiting card, on which, scrawled in pencil, was the
+name Lorenz Czerny. On the back of this card, in a different
+handwriting, but also in pencil, a memorandum had been scribbled. A
+glance showed Clo that it consisted of names, abbreviated addresses, and
+the hours of appointments, or perhaps of trains. She did not stop to
+examine the card thoroughly, but slipped it into her pocket for future
+reference, and went on with her task.
+
+The sealed envelope she sought was too large not to protrude over the
+top of any pocket of a man's indoor coat; but Clo reflected that the
+envelope might have been destroyed, and the contents distributed, or
+folded into smaller compass. With this idea she spared herself nothing
+in her quest; but the sole reward she had (save for the cigarette case)
+was the finding of a paragraph cut from a newspaper, a roll of
+blood-stained greenbacks, which she hastily replaced, and a torn silk
+handkerchief. The newspaper cutting told of Roger Sands' magnificent
+house in Newport, whither he and his "beautiful young bride" would
+shortly move. This also Clo annexed, in order that no connection should
+seem to exist between Beverley Sands and the man Peterson when the
+police got to work. The handkerchief she took from the coat pocket into
+which it had been untidily stuffed, in order to search underneath. But
+the nervous jerk she gave pulled out something else also--something
+small, which fell to the floor with a tinkle as of a tiny stone striking
+wood, when it touched a chair leg, and rolled under the chest of
+drawers. Clo had not time to see what the thing was. There was only a
+flashing glimpse of a pebble-like object as it disappeared. But her
+heart leaped at the thought of what it might be. Thrusting the ragged
+handkerchief into a pocket already examined, she had just stooped to
+peer under the clumsy piece of furniture when a telephone bell began to
+ring.
+
+The girl sprang to her feet, quivering and alert. It seemed that the
+bell had rung almost in her ear. Someone was calling for Peterson!
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+"KIT!"
+
+
+Somehow Clo got to the telephone, which was placed on the wall by the
+door, and her hand trembled on the receiver before she realized that the
+bell which rang was in the adjoining room. There was no communicating
+door between, but the wall must be almost as thin as cardboard, for the
+noise seemed to smite her ear-drum. For an instant Clo's relief was
+overwhelming; but as the shrill noise struck her nerves blow after blow,
+they rebelled. Her brain refused to work until, suddenly, blessed
+silence fell.
+
+Once more she had a sense of being saved. The power of recollection came
+back. She knew that she had been going to look for the thing which had
+dropped out of Peterson's handkerchief, and rolled out of sight. She
+went down on her knees for the second time, but only to spring up, and
+stand quivering like a creature at bay. Again the telephone bell was
+ringing, and now the sound was in the room. The call was for 658. She
+answered at once.
+
+"Hello!" she saluted the unknown.
+
+"Hello!" came the response, in a man's voice. "This is Chuff calling.
+Are you Peterson?"
+
+"Peterson is in the room," returned Clo, after an instant's pause, in
+which her heart missed a beat. "But he can't come to the 'phone."
+
+"Oh, say, is that you, Kit?" the man wanted to know.
+
+Clo was almost incapable of thinking; but she was vaguely aware that the
+accent was slightly foreign. "Yes," she ventured. "It's Kit."
+
+"Nice thing you are! I've been trying to get you the last ten minutes.
+Thought your room was next door to his. Couldn't you hear your own
+'phone from Petes'?"
+
+"I've just come in," said Clo.
+
+"You're late. Anything wrong? Your voice sounds sort of queer."
+
+"I've got chewing gum in my mouth," said Clo "What do you want to say to
+Pete?"
+
+"I want to know if he's got the papers."
+
+Clo's blood rushed to her head. This looked like a wonderful chance to
+tap a secret, if she didn't lose it by giving the wrong answers.
+Beverley Sands' whole future might depend upon the next few minutes.
+
+"Hold the line a second or two," she said. She needed to think.
+
+If she replied that Peterson had the papers, embarrassing questions
+might be asked. If she said that he hadn't, the man at the telephone
+might end the conversation before she had learned enough to help Angel.
+"I'll try hedging," she decided, and began again with a tentative
+"Hello!" For an instant there was no response, and Clo was sick with
+fear lest she had been cut off. But luck was with her. The
+foreign-sounding voice began again: "Well, is Pete there this time?"
+
+"No," said the girl. "Pete is--packing. He wants me to say it isn't much
+after ten. He's expecting to get the papers any minute now."
+
+"He 'phoned me he'd made ten the time limit. Didn't he tell Olga that
+Stephen would sure be done for if she didn't hand over the real docs by
+ten o'clock sharp?"
+
+"Olga!" ... "Stephen!" ... Clo felt that she was hearing things she had
+no right to know.
+
+"The lady's had her hands full all the afternoon and evening," she
+answered carefully. "I suppose you know what's been going on?"
+
+"Don't know a damned thing since Pete 'phoned some little skirt had
+brought around the wrong papers to the hotel. Tell him to quit his
+packing and show up at the 'phone."
+
+"He's gone out this very instant," said Clo. "A boy has come to the door
+to say there was someone to see him downstairs. Maybe it's the right
+one. He won't be long anyhow. But I'm just as glad to have a chance for
+a word with you while he's out of the way. Seems sort of funny he didn't
+put you wise about the excitement, you know where."
+
+"You mean Park Avenue?"
+
+"Yes. I can't talk in the 'phone the way I would if the wall was
+thicker. Didn't Pete tell you about the present of pearls the lady got
+from her husband?"
+
+"What pearls?"
+
+"I can't give you their whole history, but maybe Pete could, if he
+wanted to."
+
+"What makes you think so? Have you got on to some frame up, or are you
+kidding?"
+
+"Well. Somebody relieved the lady of them. That's what's made her busy
+the rest of the time. Might account for documents being late."
+
+"Say, what are you giving me? Has Pete made a deal on his own?... Pearls
+instead of papers?"
+
+"Hold the line again for a jiffy, and I'll go through his togs."
+
+"All right. Look sharp."
+
+Clo let the receiver hang loose, and for the third time went down on her
+knees before the chest of drawers. Thrusting her arm underneath, she
+passed her hand over the dirty carpet. Lodged against the wall at the
+back, and in a corner, was something round and hard, a thing which
+seemed to be about the size of a small filbert. The girl brought it out
+between thumb and finger, freed it of dust, and saw an immense pearl.
+
+"That settles that!" she said to herself. Peterson was the thief. But
+had he stolen the envelope as well as the pearls? Oh, if she could only
+galvanize the dead to speak! But the next best thing was to speak to the
+telephone. The truth might come from that direction, bit by bit, piecing
+the different parts of the story together.
+
+Clo, getting to her feet again, was struck with a sudden luminous idea.
+
+"Kit," the woman she was personating, the woman apparently set to watch
+Peterson, had found out about the pearls. Either she had believed him a
+traitor to the "gang," or she had wanted the pearls for herself. In
+either case she had killed him to get them; and one pearl had escaped to
+tell the tale of its fellows.
+
+Yes, "Kit" had the pearls. But where were they, and where was she? The
+woman was not in her room, because the telephone bell had been ringing
+there and she hadn't answered. What if she hadn't been able to get back
+to her room after the murder? Kit might have locked her door when she
+came to have a chat with Peterson. It was likely enough there'd be
+things in her quarters which she wouldn't want a prying chambermaid to
+see! Perhaps she'd seen Peterson looking at the pearls. Perhaps, when
+she knocked, he had thrust the broken rope back into his pocket with the
+loose pearls. Perhaps Kit had put him off his guard, chatting of other
+things, while he packed. But no, she had caught him unawares when he sat
+as he was sitting now! Clo pictured her offering to help him pack. He
+had lolled comfortably while Kit worked. Then, she had come behind him
+and dealt that frightful blow with the butt of his own pistol. A strong,
+determined woman, Kit!
+
+Clo remembered how she and Beverley had walked slowly from the corridor
+of the lift into Peterson's corridor, looking at the numbers over the
+doors; and remembered how she had said to Angel, "This must be the right
+way to turn." Even after that, they had paused a moment for Beverley to
+gather up her failing courage; and if Kit had then been in the act of
+opening the trunk, she could easily have hidden herself inside before
+the owners of the voices she heard had turned the corner. It must have
+given her a beautiful fright when someone sat down on the trunk with a
+thud! No wonder she had jumped, and made the big box shake!
+
+Kit's actions later could be plausibly accounted for, too. She must have
+guessed that one of the women she had heard speaking (had seen, perhaps,
+if she contrived to peep from the trunk when their backs were turned)
+had been in Peterson's room. How she must have wished that she'd taken
+time to lock his door on the outside! As it was, she couldn't have been
+sure that an alarm would not be given downstairs. Her one thought must
+have been haste; and Clo doubted that, if she had forgotten her key in
+Peterson's room, she would have ventured back to get it. No, she would
+have crept out of the trunk, and looked at her dress in the dim light to
+see whether blood stains showed. If she wore dark clothing, she might
+have run the risk. Clo pictured her locking the trunk, and following, as
+closely as she dared, the cloaked figures in gray and brown; pictured
+her pausing in the background to see whether the pair stopped at the
+desk, or went away with their secret; pictured her relief when they
+passed on in silence; and the bid for freedom she must have made a
+minute later.
+
+"I bet, by the time we were in our taxi, that woman was out of this, and
+legging it as fast as she could go. She wouldn't have taken a cab, for
+fear of being traced," Clo finished her reflections. She stared at the
+pearl in her hand.
+
+"Awkward for me if Kit gets to the man at the other end while her double
+chats to him at the Westmorland!" the girl thought, and flew back to the
+telephone. "Are you there?" she called.
+
+"You bet your sweet life I'm here. Did you find the beans?"
+
+"I've found something I must bring to you. Where's the safest place?"
+
+"What's the matter with here?"
+
+"It won't do," she answered. "It's on account of Pete!"
+
+"Well, then, come to Churn's. When'll you be there?"
+
+This was a blow. Clo was angling for an address, with street and number.
+But she would not be downed by one disappointment. "Same reason holds
+good for Churn's," she said. "Can't you think of some place Pete doesn't
+know? And think quick, or he'll be back."
+
+"Think quick yourself! We'll go round to your own house, you dub! Pete
+ain't sure where your real pitch is--unless you've blabbed."
+
+"I may have dropped something that's put him wise," the girl persisted
+in desperation. "I tell you I'm not talking to hear myself talk when I
+ask for a new place."
+
+"Krantz's Keller, then, eleven thirty."
+
+"Right for Krantz's Keller. But I can't be sure of eleven thirty. I'll
+have to keep an eye on Pete till I know what he's up to. Maybe I can
+'phone you there. What's Krantz's number?"
+
+"Can't give it to you without looking it up. Haven't you got the book
+there?"
+
+"No. Somebody must have nicked it."
+
+"Ain't there one in your own room next door?"
+
+"Yes. But say--a fool thing's happened. I locked my door when I came in
+to Pete's, and I've dropped my key."
+
+"Find it, and go look at the book. Jake's got mine. I'll call you up in
+your room in five minutes. Then if Pete's back it won't matter. See?"
+
+"Yes. But----Have you gone?"
+
+There was no answer. Clo could do nothing save hang up the receiver, and
+begin to search for a key which, despite her elaborate deductions, might
+be in "Kit's" pocket for all she knew. Luck was with her once more,
+however. On the floor by the mantelpiece lay a key, almost hidden in the
+deep fur of a mangy, goat-hair rug. Clo might have wasted twice the time
+in her search, had she not stepped on it.
+
+"I'll make the best of a bad bargain," she promised herself. "If I must
+go to Kit's room, I won't throw away a single second."
+
+She fastened Peterson's door on the outside, and fitted the key she had
+found, into the lock of the door at the left, in front of which stood
+the brown trunk.
+
+The key served, as she had felt certain it would. Hastily she locked
+herself into the room, and switched on the light. It was a mean little
+room, a facsimile of Peterson's in most of its features, but a woman's
+clothing hung from hooks on the door, and on the bed and chairs and
+dressing table a woman's belongings were flung untidily about; hats,
+gloves, collars, and a handbag of jet and steel beads. Kit must have
+hated to leave that bag, thought Clo. She drew the ribbons, and took a
+hasty peep at the bag's contents. There was a soiled suede purse, and in
+that purse, mixed up with a few greenbacks, there were some papers. Clo
+dared not stop to examine them. She could only hope that they might give
+clues which she had failed to obtain from the telephone.
+
+There were four or five frocks hanging on the door, showy blouses and
+bright-coloured skirts; but Clo searched in vain for pockets. In the
+chest of drawers, which was the twin of Peterson's, was a certain amount
+of underclothing, much trimmed with cheap lace. There were silk
+petticoats with torn frilling, and shoes and slippers. But nothing was
+marked with name, or even initials. Kit, though gaudily coquettish in
+her taste, was apparently careless in her habits. Clo no longer visioned
+Kit large, masculine, and determined, a tigress woman. Instead she saw a
+lithe, cat-like creature, strong, no doubt (it had taken strength to
+strike that blow and Clo would have staked her life that it had been
+struck by Kit) but not big or massive.
+
+The five minutes grace must certainly have passed before Clo had come to
+the end of her inspection, but the telephone was silent. This struck the
+girl as ominous, for it might mean that Kit had appeared in person at
+the other end of the line. It might mean that some trap was being laid
+to catch Kit's double.
+
+"If she turns up, and tells everything, they can't let me get away with
+what I know, even about Krantz's Keller," Clo told herself. "They'll
+have to send someone to watch, especially if they think I'm a 'tec,
+who's found Peterson's body. They won't know what I'm like. All the
+same, if they don't call me up in just one minute more, I must make a
+bolt. I'll count sixty, and--see what happens."
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+THE VOICE THAT DID NOT SEEM STRANGE
+
+
+What happened was that the telephone began ringing in the next
+room--Peterson's room. It began when Clo had counted up to forty.
+
+She had hoped not to go back to the room of the dead man. She had
+searched it from end to end. But now she knew the thing would have to be
+done.
+
+Already the jet and steel bag hung by its ribbons over her arm. Clo
+switched off the electricity, and let herself out into the hall. Before
+she had finished her count of sixty seconds she was once more locked in
+Peterson's room. So confidently had she expected to hear the same
+foreign-sounding accents that she almost dropped the receiver and
+started away when her "Hello!" was answered by a strange voice.
+
+Yet--was it a strange voice? As it went on to ask: "Is this Mr.
+Peterson?" Clo had a strong impression that she had heard the voice
+before. Assuredly it was not the one which had talked to "Kit," but it
+sounded astonishingly familiar. Though she could not yet identify the
+tones recognition was only a question of instants.
+
+"This is Mr. Peterson's room," she replied. "He is--here. He wishes me
+to speak for him."
+
+"I had better tell you before we go further, then, that I'm talking for
+Mr. John Heron. When you have explained that, Mr. Peterson will decide
+whether he'd rather come to the 'phone and attend to the business
+himself."
+
+Clo was glad of the pause. "John Heron!" That was the man Peterson had
+mentioned during her second conversation with him. He had said that
+Roger Sands was "working for John Heron" when Roger and Beverley met in
+the train; and she--Clo--had heard the name with a queer thrill which
+she could not understand. So far as she knew, it was strange to her: yet
+she seemed to have heard it in dreams--sad dreams, where someone had
+sobbed in the dark. Through the strenuous adventures which had kept body
+and brain busy the girl had recalled it again and again, since the
+moment when the name had fallen from Peterson's lips. She had wondered
+if she would ever have the "cheek" to ask Angel who was John Heron.
+Whoever he might be, John Heron was in some way concerned with
+Beverley's secret, or Peterson would not have spoken his name in that
+connection.
+
+She answered quietly: "Mr. Peterson allows me to go on speaking for
+him."
+
+"Very well," returned the voice. "Mr. Peterson called Mr. Heron up not
+long ago, to say he could sell him a rope of fine pearls for Mrs. Heron,
+at a low price. He'd heard, it appears, that Mr. Heron wished to buy
+pearls, and he suggested an appointment for to-night. Mr. Heron did not
+receive this message himself; he was indisposed at the time it came, and
+Mrs. Heron took it, but was unable to answer for her husband. He asks me
+to say, in his name, that if Mr. Peterson has some particularly fine
+pearls to dispose of, he'll be pleased to look at them, not to-night,
+but to-morrow morning about ten o'clock, at his hotel, the Dietz."
+
+"The Dietz!" cried Clo. "Now I know who's speaking to me. You're Justin
+O'Reilly!"
+
+Inadvertently she had kept her lips at the receiver. The cry had flown
+to the man who held the line.
+
+"And you're my girl burglar! By Jove, I thought I knew that voice! Are
+you in the pearl business, too? Has Mrs. Sands commissioned you and some
+fellow called Peterson to sell her pearls to Mrs. Heron? Now I begin to
+see light! She tried to make a bargain with me over those pearls. I
+refused in Heron's name and my own. What's her game now, when there's
+nothing left to bargain for, and you've sent the papers back?"
+
+"Sent the papers back!" Clo gasped into the telephone. This coming into
+touch with O'Reilly over the wire had been a shock. But she forgot the
+surprise of it in the new surprise of his last words.
+
+"Wasn't it you who sent them?" he went on.
+
+She stopped to think before daring a reply. O'Reilly had got the papers
+back, or he wanted her to think so, for some reason of his own.
+
+"Well, if you must know, perhaps I did send them," she prevaricated.
+
+"I'm glad to have this chance to thank you for repenting. I felt at the
+time you weren't the stuff trick-confidence-ladies and burglaresses are
+made of."
+
+"I didn't exactly repent," confessed Clo. "I had an object to gain. I'm
+glad the papers weren't lost on the way. You're sure no one had tampered
+with the envelope?"
+
+"Apparently not. The messenger handed it to me sealed up and seemingly
+intact, with the address of my bank on it in my own handwriting. The boy
+wouldn't say how he knew I was staying at the Dietz. He is an ornament
+to his profession! I want you to know that I don't bear malice."
+
+As Clo listened she was surprised at the soothing effect of his voice
+upon her nerves. It was like hearing the voice of a friend. After all,
+why should they be enemies, since of the two O'Reilly was the injured
+party, and had just assured her that he didn't "bear malice?" But he was
+going on to ask what was the "object" she had wished to gain. "Do you
+mean to tell me, or is it one of your many mysteries?"
+
+"I realized I'd gone to work with you in the wrong way," she ventured.
+"Now I need someone's help. I need it horribly. It ought to be a man's
+help. And, except Mr. Sands, you're the only man I know."
+
+She heard O'Reilly laughing. He wouldn't laugh if he could see what her
+eyes saw!
+
+"So you want to call a truce?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, if I could trust you."
+
+"I like that! I wasn't the betrayer. But never mind. Your second
+thoughts are best. And anyhow, you weren't working for yourself. Do you
+really want my help?"
+
+"Don't I? But it would be for--for----You know whom I mean. And you're
+her enemy, aren't you?"
+
+"Not the least in the world. But I can't buy her pearls, and I'm sure
+Heron will refuse to bargain if----"
+
+"The pearls aren't for sale any more. They've been stolen. She thinks
+you took them for a hold-up."
+
+"The devil she does! But you know better. Tell me what you wish me to do
+for you, and I'll do it; I wanted to see you again. You were like a bad
+but interesting dream, broken off in the midst, that I longed to dream
+over again."
+
+"I _feel_ as if I had been broken off in the midst!" said Clo. "I may be
+broken past mending if somebody doesn't pick up the pieces good and
+quick! What I want you to do is to meet me outside the Westmorland. Will
+you? And if so, how soon?"
+
+"I will," came the answer. "I'll be there in eight minutes, with a taxi.
+Does that suit you?"
+
+"Yes. Have the taxi drawn up in front of the hotel, and as it slows
+down, I'll jump in. Give the chauffeur an order--before he starts--not
+to stop, you know, but to go on the instant I'm in. A lot may depend on
+that."
+
+"What mischief have you been up to?" asked the laughing voice, which to
+Clo, in the room of death, seemed to come from another world.
+
+She shuddered as her eyes turned to the figure in the chair.
+
+"Good-bye!" she said, and hung up the receiver without another word.
+
+Eight minutes! It would take her about three to get out of the room,
+down the stairs, and to the front door--if all went well. What was she
+to do with the other five? Now that her mission was ended, she could not
+stay where she was. She had reached, and almost passed, the limit of her
+endurance. One idle moment in that place would surely drive her mad! Yet
+she could not stand in the street, waiting for O'Reilly to come to the
+rescue. Kit and the man who had talked to Kit might be ready to pounce
+upon her there.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+"WHAT'S DONE CAN'T BE UNDONE"
+
+
+"Don't be frightened, Mums! It's only me, back earlier than I expected,"
+Ellen Blackburne announced herself at the door of her mother's bedroom.
+
+Mrs. Blackburne was propped up in bed, reading Young's "Night Thoughts."
+
+"Of course, I'm not frightened!" she reassured her daughter. "I'm only
+surprised. That's what makes my hands tremble."
+
+"I was in hopes you'd have gone to sleep," said Ellen, "and I could slip
+in without giving you a start. I stopped the taxi at the corner on
+purpose."
+
+"I'm delighted to have you back. But why did you bring the pearls home
+to string? Now you'll be sitting up the whole blessed night!"
+
+"Don't you worry!" Ellen soothed her. "I'm not going to sit up. I'm
+going to bed. Shall I leave the door open between the rooms while I
+undress, or shall I just kiss you good-night now, and let you rest in
+peace?"
+
+The little woman had sat down on the edge of the bed, but as she spoke,
+she stood up. It struck the older woman that, for some reason, she was
+in a hurry to get away.
+
+"There's something you don't want to tell me, isn't there, dear?" her
+mother quietly observed.
+
+"Well, you have the most wonderful intuition!" Ellen praised her parent.
+"I believe you could see through a wall. It's only that I didn't want to
+wake you up and make you nervous, so you would have a bad night."
+
+"I shall have a better night if I don't need to rack my brain thinking
+over what might have happened."
+
+"Oh, all right!" sighed Ellen, and sat down again. "You're a grand
+safety valve, you know, Mums, because I can talk to you, and be sure
+that whatever I say will be locked up in your strong box. I meant to
+write all this down in my notebook, with initials instead of names; but
+the diary can't give advice. You can. Only--you're certain we hadn't
+best wait till to-morrow?"
+
+"I shouldn't close my eyes!" said Mrs. Blackburne. "But I can say this
+to begin with: You did the right thing. You always do."
+
+"This is different from anything that ever came into my experience,"
+Ellen answered.
+
+"I told you before I started, I thought I was in for an exciting job. It
+wasn't only that Mr. Sands is a sort of celebrity, and everyone has been
+talking of Mrs. Sands as a beauty. It was the man himself gave me a kind
+of thrilled feeling the minute I saw him. Mums, Roger Sands is the sort
+I could fall in love with, if I was the falling-in-love type. He's
+strong and silent. He isn't a bit a woman's man. I don't know how to
+describe him, exactly. He made me feel as if I longed to do something
+for him. I was mighty keen to see what Mrs. Sands would be like. I
+suppose to see what style of woman he'd worship enough to pick up from
+the gutter."
+
+"Goodness me, child!" broke in Mrs. Blackburne, absorbed. "You don't
+mean that's where she came from? I never heard----"
+
+"No--no! I oughtn't to have used that expression," Ellen confessed,
+"though they tell all sorts of stories about her origin. I daresay none
+of 'em are right, and not a soul knows the truth. People have given her
+a nickname: 'the girl from nowhere.' But you've only to see her to
+realize at once that whatever she was, she must have been brought up
+like a princess."
+
+"Handsome?"
+
+"A dream of beauty. She's worthy of her husband that way, but she's not
+in other ways. That's my excuse."
+
+"Your excuse, lovey? For what?"
+
+"For what I did. But you won't know why I did it, or forgive me for
+doing it, unless I tell you the story as I understand it."
+
+"Go right on, dear, and take your time. I won't interrupt again." So
+Ellen gave her mother a succinct account of all that had befallen her,
+until the fateful moment when she discovered that the pearls were not in
+their case.
+
+"The case empty! The pearls gone! My goodness me!" gasped the old lady.
+
+"I never had such a scare in my life. Mrs. Sands had told me how she'd
+been dressing in her bedroom, with the door wide open into the boudoir,
+because the pearls were there, all ready for me to begin on, if I
+arrived before she'd got into her gown. She either believed the pearls
+were in the case, or else she wanted me to believe she believed it! The
+desperate state she was in, under her pretty manner, made me think maybe
+she was playing some dreadful trick, and after I'd got over the first
+shock of surprise I was mad with that woman. 'She doesn't care if she
+ruins me, so she can save herself from a scrape,' was what I thought
+about her. I made up my mind I wouldn't be catspaw, to pull her
+chestnuts out of the fire."
+
+"What did you do?" breathed Mrs. Blackburne, sitting straight up in bed.
+
+"I rang the bell for the butler. He came to the door in an instant. I
+told him to call Mrs. Sands at once, it was urgent. I thought that would
+fetch her, but it didn't. It was the man who came back. He seemed a bit
+embarrassed: Mrs. Sands was very busy at the moment, it would be a
+little while before she was at liberty. It came into my head that she
+was leaving me alone as long as possible in the room where her wonderful
+pearls were supposed to be, so she could accuse me of making away with
+them, when the truth had to come out, that the pearls were gone. I saw
+just one thing to do. I told the butler to call Mr. Sands, quick. 'Mr.
+Sands is just going,' he said. 'I was ready to help him on with his coat
+when you rang.' 'Well, beg him to step in here one instant,' said I. The
+man went out; and I couldn't have counted ten before Mr. Sands appeared.
+I pointed to the empty case that was open on the table, and explained in
+about a dozen words--I wanted to finish before Madam arrived!--that Mrs.
+Sands had told me to look in the case for the pearls; that she went out
+in a hurry; and when I looked, the pearls weren't there. 'I sent and
+asked her to come,' I went on, 'but she was busy.'
+
+"Well, Mother, the face of that man just broke my heart! It was more as
+if some awful thing he'd half expected, had come true. I might have
+stuck a knife in his heart.
+
+"'Does my wife know you asked for me when she couldn't come?' was the
+first thing he said after he'd stood quite still for a second or two. I
+told him no, I'd taken the responsibility on myself, and I hoped I
+hadn't done wrong.
+
+"'Not wrong,' said he. 'You meant well, I'm sure. Still, I wish the news
+had come to me from my wife and no one else.'
+
+"Then he walked over to the window, and stood looking out. If I hadn't
+known he was there, I shouldn't have seen him. The curtains were drawn,
+not all across, but partly, and it was a sort of bay window, so there
+was room for him to stand behind the curtains, in the shadow they made.
+He hadn't been there two seconds, I give you my word, when the door flew
+open, and Mrs. Sands bounced in.
+
+"'You sent for me?' she asked, and threw a look round the room, as if
+searching for someone. I felt I should die if her husband came out--but
+he didn't. I managed to stammer that the pearls weren't in their case,
+and so on; and it seemed as if my words turned her to a block of marble!
+She just stared at me. 'Maybe you think I stole the pearls!' I said
+right out. She assured me quite nicely that she believed nothing so
+foolish, and that even if I'd wanted to steal the things, I couldn't
+have smuggled them away from the house. (Of course, I could, though, if
+there had been time.) My heart melted to her, I must confess. But I was
+thinking more of her husband. It was up to me to get him out of the fix.
+I suggested to Mrs. Sands calling in Clo, to see what she could make of
+the business. The instant she was gone, out from the bay window stalked
+her husband! By that time I was at the door. I'd opened it for Mrs.
+Sands. I hardly dared glance at him--it seemed so prying. All I
+know--for sure, now--is that he stopped for an instant at the table. He
+had to pass it, on the way from his hiding place to the door. I supposed
+then, when he paused there, that he would be gazing at the empty velvet
+case. But he may have been doing something different--I'll tell you why
+and what, in a minute.
+
+"I stood without moving, and, as he came near the door he stopped again.
+'Miss Blackburne,' he said, 'you've been mixed up against your will, and
+not by any fault of your own, in an unfortunate business. It's a family
+affair, and I feel certain you'll keep your own counsel. Don't think I'm
+trying to bribe you. I'm not. But I should like you to accept this.' My
+arms were hanging straight down at my sides, but he managed to stick
+something into one of my hands. What do you think it was?"
+
+"Fifty dollars?" her mother guessed.
+
+"Fifty fiddlesticks! It was five hundred!"
+
+"My heavens! Enough to pay off the mortgage. But you couldn't possibly
+accept it?"
+
+"I said no. I swore that I'd done nothing to earn a cent: that wild
+horses wouldn't drag from me anything I'd seen, or heard, or even
+imagined, in his house. But Mr. Sands insisted. 'It will give me
+pleasure for you to have the money. It's little enough,' he said. Then
+he walked right out. He must have gone back to his own room instead of
+leaving the flat just then, for I saw him again later. I'll tell you
+about that. But do you think it was wrong to keep the money?"
+
+"In the circumstances, no," Mrs. Blackburne decided. "It would have hurt
+his feelings to give it back. Oh, my dear, five hundred dollars! It's
+like a fairy gift, just when we're needing it so much!"
+
+"Well, I'd got the bills tucked away when Mrs. Sands came running in.
+She made for the table, the way a pointer goes for a shot bird. She
+hadn't a glance for the velvet case. She was searching for something
+else. Oh, Mother, it scared me to see her! She threw everything about.
+She was out of her head. A tall vase of flowers tipped over, and
+splashed water on the books, and even on the velvet case. I don't think
+she knew it had happened. Books fell on the floor. She didn't see or
+care. Then she sank all of a heap into a big chair close by. 'The
+envelope?' she gasped, as if she were choked by a hand on her throat.
+'It was there. Where is it now?'
+
+"I told her I hadn't seen any envelope, which was perfectly true. She
+described it: quite a big, long envelope, made of linen, and sealed up
+with several red seals. I swore over again I hadn't seen an envelope of
+any description. At last she had to believe me. But the worst was to
+come. 'Did you leave the room, for so much as a second, after I left
+you?' she asked, with her eyes on my face. I told her I hadn't stirred
+outside the door; but what I was scared of came next: 'Did any one come
+in?'"
+
+"Oh, lovey, I hope you didn't have to tell a falsehood?"
+
+"That depends on what you call a falsehood," said Miss Blackburne. "I
+hate fibs as much as you do. But it was an awful fix!"
+
+"It was," Mums agreed.
+
+"You see," Ellen went on, to make her position clear, "I had asked Mr.
+Sands not to let his wife know I'd called him in. Later, he pressed that
+money on me, and I accepted it. I felt as if it had bought me, body and
+soul. When he stood by the table, he must have seen that envelope, and
+taken it. Well, now, I ask you, could I give him away?"
+
+"I don't see how you could," wailed the old lady.
+
+"Neither did I. 'Did any one come in?' I echoed, when Mrs. Sands put the
+question. 'Wouldn't I have mentioned it to you the first thing, if any
+one had?' Was that a falsehood, or wasn't it?"
+
+"It was a prevarication," answered Mrs. Blackburne, "and I think I
+should have done the same thing."
+
+"Thank goodness!" sighed Ellen. "That's what I wanted to know. You don't
+blame me, then?"
+
+"I feel you acted for the best. And it's done now!"
+
+"Yes, it's done, and can't be undone," the pearl-stringer echoed.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+ROGER'S APPOINTMENT AT THE CLUB
+
+
+Roger Sands dined alone at his club that night. Many men hailed him as
+he came in, very late, and in sixty seconds he received six invitations
+to dine. He refused them all, however.
+
+It was with the hope of meeting a certain man that Roger had gone to the
+club. He had excused himself to Beverley on the plea of an appointment,
+because he had wanted to be alone, and had no intention of dining
+anywhere.
+
+It was upon an impulse that he had taken the sealed envelope addressed
+to Justin O'Reilly. Afterward, he felt that his whole course of conduct,
+from the moment he had entered the room till the moment he had left the
+flat, was radically wrong. He ought, perhaps, to have shown himself to
+Beverley when she came in, despite Miss Blackburne's appeal. If he had
+done this, he would have learned the truth about that envelope. Seeing
+her husband at such a moment, Beverley must have betrayed herself, Roger
+thought, if there were anything to betray in connection with the
+envelope. Had its concealment been important, she would mechanically
+have sprung to hide it. Had it been left inadvertently by O'Reilly, for
+no concern of hers, Beverley's ignorance of his presence, or her
+indifference, would have cleared her in Roger's eyes.
+
+He could not contemplate confessing to Beverley that he had hidden
+himself and then taken the envelope. She would probably say: "I never
+dreamed that you'd be mean enough to spy upon me! Why didn't you show
+yourself, like a brave man, instead of hiding?"
+
+No, he would not tell Beverley that he had been a witness of the scene
+between her and the pearl-stringer; nor that he was responsible for the
+vanishing of O'Reilly's envelope. Let her think what she liked about its
+loss, just as he--Roger--was free to think what he liked about the loss
+of the pearls! He would wait for Beverley to tell him that the pearls
+were gone. Her carelessness, to say the best of it, her ingratitude and
+disloyalty, to say the worst, gave him the right to keep his knowledge
+to himself. He would wait and see what Beverley meant to do. Then he
+decided to send back the sealed letter to O'Reilly. Ten minutes after
+leaving home he had given the envelope to a messenger, with directions
+to take it at once to the Dietz.
+
+It was when he had thus disciplined himself, that Roger turned toward
+the club. A man who was an old acquaintance of Roger's, and a friend of
+O'Reilly's, often dropped in there on a Sunday evening. Possibly he
+would come that night. Roger had thought of a question to ask. He saw
+that there might be a way to getting even with O'Reilly, a way just as
+efficacious, and more open, than the one he had sacrificed.
+
+While he pretended to dine and read an "evening edition," a hateful
+little voice in Roger's brain chirped suggestions to him. What if
+Beverley had somehow been in O'Reilly's power? What if she had written
+him love letters which afterward she wished to get back, and he refused
+to surrender? What if she had contrived to steal them, and O'Reilly had
+followed, for reprisals? What if, since then, the man had been torturing
+her, and Clodagh Riley (a poor relation of Justin O'Reilly's, perhaps)
+had been acting as a go-between? What if the girl had pretended illness
+as an excuse to bring O'Reilly into the flat, and the man had frightened
+Beverley into giving him the pearls?
+
+He was sipping his demi tasse, and had ceased to expect the man he
+wanted, when that man walked into the room. Before he could sit down at
+a neighbouring table Roger hailed him; a small, dark man of Jewish type,
+a man of forty-five, perhaps, with the brilliant eyes of a scientist and
+the arched brows of a dreamer.
+
+"Hello, Doctor Lewis! I've been hoping you'd blow in!" Sands said
+cordially. "Won't you dine with me?"
+
+"But you've finished. I'd be keeping you."
+
+"I want a talk with you, my dear chap," Roger assured him.
+
+The doctor sat down at Sands' table.
+
+"I'd have got here a long while ago," Doctor Lewis went on to explain,
+"but just as I was leaving the Dietz, where I have a patient, I was
+asked to stop and see--whom do you think?"
+
+"Your friend, O'Reilly, perhaps. Someone mentioned to me that he was
+there."
+
+"No," said Lewis, "not O'Reilly, but as it happens, a friends of
+O'Reilly's, in the same hotel, who suddenly collapsed."
+
+"I can guess, then," replied Sands. "I know the Herons are at the Dietz.
+Your patient was one of those two--Mrs. Heron, I should say. I don't
+somehow see Heron 'collapsing.'"
+
+"My patient was Heron, not his wife. The attack was nothing serious, but
+Mrs. H---- was scared. You and Heron are as fast friends as ever, of
+course?"
+
+"I admire John Heron in many ways," Roger answered, indirectly.
+
+"And he ought to admire you, as certainly he does! A good many people
+thought you risked your life, throwing yourself into that business in
+California, the way you did, Sands. But you came out on top, and brought
+Heron out on top. Your reward was great!"
+
+Roger smiled. He was thinking of the journey back, after his triumph,
+and of Beverley. She had been his reward. Once it had seemed great.
+
+"Have you seen Heron since he got to New York?" said the doctor.
+
+"Not yet," said Sands.
+
+"Well, he's hardly more than just arrived. Heron's a wiry chap. It needs
+a good deal to knock him over. If it had happened last summer, or fall,
+when the big row was on, there'd have been plenty of excuse, as Mrs.
+Heron remarked. It appears the two had been quietly sitting together
+down below, in the big hall, watching the crowd, and waiting for Justin
+O'Reilly to go in with them to dinner. Mrs. H---- sent Heron back to
+their bedrooms to find something she'd forgotten. She got scared at last
+when time passed and neither Heron nor O'Reilly came down. She went to
+see for herself what was up, and found her husband in a fainting fit.
+She 'phoned just as I was leaving my other patient, and by the time I
+arrived on the scene O'Reilly had floated in from the next-door suite.
+He'd been out while the Herons thought he was dressing to dine with
+them. All's well that ends well. Heron will be as brisk as ever in a day
+or two."
+
+"I'm glad to hear that," Roger said, gravely. "As you say, Heron's not a
+man to be knocked over easily. Last year, when I was in California, he
+came within an ace of being shot one night, and never turned a hair."
+
+"His wife was asking him, when he came to, a lot of questions. Heron
+wouldn't want to worry her, naturally. Didn't she have some great shock
+last summer, or fall, while you were out West? A brother who was killed,
+or killed himself?"
+
+"A brother who died suddenly. There was no proof of violence. The young
+man's death occurred the day I left, and not in California, but in New
+Mexico--near the town of Albuquerque, at a house belonging to Mrs.
+Heron. The Herons haven't been married many years," Roger went on. "Not
+more than eight or ten. Mrs. Heron can't be much over thirty. I never
+saw the brother. He was something of an invalid, and lived always at the
+Albuquerque place. His handsome sister stayed with him sometimes. He was
+a few years younger than she."
+
+Sands had the air of giving these details somewhat grudgingly, as a
+concession to the very evident curiosity of Lewis: but having satisfied
+it as far as necessary, he turned the conversation to his own affairs:
+the affairs, in fact, which had suggested to him this meeting with the
+doctor.
+
+"Whenever I have leisure just now I cut down to Newport to see how the
+decorators get on with an alleged 'cottage' I've bought there for my
+wife," he said. "It's been quite an amusement to me for the past few
+weeks. I'm tired of living in an apartment, though ours isn't bad, as
+flats go. I want a house, and I want an old one, or my wife does, with a
+little romance of history attached to it. I'd like to get hold of one,
+as a surprise for her. I know there aren't many in the market. I suppose
+there's nothing good down in your neighbourhood?"
+
+"Well, as you know, Gramercy Park and all round there has been pretty
+thoroughly modernized," said Lewis, who lived in a big new house of
+apartments, not far from Gramercy Park. "The only fine, old-fashioned
+mansion I can think of, that would just suit you is Miss Theresa
+O'Reilly's--a patient of mine--when she's any one's patient. Do you know
+anything about the ancient dame?"
+
+Roger knew so much that he had waited for Lewis entirely for the reason
+that Miss Theresa O'Reilly was a patient of his.
+
+"Isn't she related to your friend, Justin O'Reilly?" he inquired.
+
+"She's a distant cousin. As for the house, Justin feels that it ought to
+be his. I have this from her, not from him. The old lady told me the
+other day that she heard Justin had been hoarding up his money to buy
+the house, and was coming to New York on purpose to talk matters over,
+but she would refuse to see him."
+
+"A cranky old bird!" Sands sympathized.
+
+"You're right. Last year she mentioned to several people, me among
+others, that she thought of offering the place for sale if she could get
+a good price, because the New York climate gave her rheumatism, and
+she'd like to try the French Riviera. But the minute she'd spoken to
+me--a friend of Justin's--she could have cut out her tongue. You see,
+Justin's great-great-grandfather built the house: an Irishman who came
+over before the Revolution, and fought with the Americans against the
+English. It remained in the family till a few years before Justin's
+birth, when his father was obliged to sell through poverty, and move out
+West. This old lady, Theresa O'Reilly, was the purchaser. She was, of
+course, a youngish woman then, though no chicken. The story is that she
+loved Justin's father, and tried to catch him with her money--she was a
+rich heiress. He was on the point of engaging himself when he fell
+desperately in love with a poor girl Theresa employed as social
+secretary, or something of the sort. Out of revenge, Theresa went to
+work in secret ways to ruin Justin Senior, who was a gay, careless
+fellow, without too much money to lose, or too much patience to make
+more. She's said to have put men up to lead him into bad investments.
+Anyhow, she got the house, and California got the man and his family. I
+imagine there was a hard struggle out there at first. Young Justin has
+had to carve his own fortune: his father and mother, and an older
+brother, died when he was a boy. All this long story came out of your
+wanting an old house. It can't have interested you much, I'm afraid!"
+
+"Certainly, there's enough romance attached to that house!" said Roger,
+with a short laugh. "But Miss O'Reilly has changed her mind, and won't
+sell?"
+
+"So she assures me," answered Lewis. "You see, she couldn't be sure
+Justin wasn't standing behind a dummy buyer, now she knows he's
+definitely after the place, and able to purchase for a decent price. I
+take it that in the circumstances she won't sell to any one. Perhaps she
+never meant to when the test came."
+
+"So poor O'Reilly wants the home of his ancestors?"
+
+"He does. I've known of that dream for years. He told me once he'd grown
+up with it."
+
+Roger made his comment upon this: but he determined to write to Miss
+O'Reilly the moment Lewis had gone.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+KRANTZ'S KELLER
+
+
+Clo had been able to think very clearly, while there had been something
+definite to think about, but her brain refused this problem of an extra
+five minutes, which might mean success or failure. She couldn't stop
+where she was; she couldn't hang about in the street, lest the real Kit
+had given the false Kit away to the "gang"; yet to dawdle in the
+corridor, or on the stairs of the Westmorland Hotel, was unthinkable.
+When the murder of Peterson was discovered someone might remember that
+slim girl in brown. The police were diabolically clever--now and then.
+Who could say if they might not trace that girl in brown, and, finding
+her, eventually reach Beverley Sands?
+
+"One minute must have gone, just while I've been thinking of it!" Clo
+told herself. "And Peterson hasn't come alive. Now, if I can only think
+hard enough, and forget him and the silence, for two or three minutes, I
+can start."
+
+But the silence broke. Once more her nerves thrilled to the telephone
+bell. She was standing by the door, her back resolutely turned to the
+figure in the chair, when the sound began. The girl snatched the
+receiver and called "Hello" but no one answered. She must get out
+quickly, at the risk of having to wait in the street before O'Reilly
+could arrive.
+
+"Unless they live close by, they won't have had time to reach me yet,
+even if Kit's given the show away," Clo thought. But of course, "Chuff"
+might have 'phoned from a house round the corner. Peterson might have
+chosen the Westmorland Hotel in order to be near his friends!
+
+Clo locked the door, took out the key, and dropped it behind the trunk
+at the end of the hall. That would not be unfair to the owner of the
+trunk, she thought, for in any case, the blood stains would direct
+suspicion to Peterson's vanished neighbour. The key would be only a
+detail.
+
+As she descended the stairways leading from the sixth story to the
+ground floor, she met two or three men, but they had the air of tired
+commercial travellers going up to bed. Apparently the veiled girl in
+brown had no special interest for them. Next came the ordeal of the
+entrance hall, and passing the desk; but there a new group of men had
+collected. Clo peered through her brown veil, but encountered no curious
+glances. Yet the worst was to come. The eight minutes could hardly have
+run out; besides, O'Reilly might be late. If "Kit" were true to her
+pals, and if she had seen from her hiding place in the trunk, who went
+into Peterson's room, the coming moment might hold the greatest peril of
+all. The girl hesitated at the door, then sprang into the street as she
+might have sprung into a wave.
+
+Plenty of people were passing as she walked slowly away. She had not
+taken many steps, however, when a taxi separated itself from others in
+the double line of moving vehicles, and slackened speed near the curb.
+The window was open, and Justin O'Reilly was looking out. Clo gave a
+welcoming cry, and waved Kit's bead bag. He caught her eye, spoke to the
+chauffeur, and the taxi slowed down, short of the hotel entrance. The
+girl ran back. O'Reilly held the door ajar, and, putting out his hand,
+pulled her in while the car was in motion. He had not forgotten her
+orders, and had instructed the driver. On bounded the taxi, as the door
+slammed shut, and the sudden jerk, before Clo was seated, flung her into
+O'Reilly's arms. He held her for a second or two, and then carefully set
+her by his side.
+
+"By Jove, I'm glad to have you safe!" he said in a warm, kind voice,
+which for some reason made Clo want to cry. "I've a hundred things to
+say and ask, you child or imp, but first of all, where do you want to
+go? Home, or----"
+
+"To Krantz's Keller," Clo finished the sentence. "Do you know where it
+is?"
+
+"Yes," said O'Reilly. "I know, though I've never been. But----"
+
+"I've got to go there," said Clo. "If you don't like, you needn't."
+
+"I do like!" he laughed. "What do you know about Krantz's Keller?"
+
+"I'll tell you that, and other things, when we arrive," said Clo.
+"Please, what time is it?"
+
+"No thanks to you that I have a watch, and can answer that question," he
+thrust at her slyly. The street lights turned to ivory the small face
+from which Clo had pushed back the veil. It was a child's face, though
+not impish or defiant now; but the great dark eyes, it seemed to the
+man, were a woman's eyes. He was conscious that never in his life had he
+been so intensely interested in a female thing. She had tricked him, she
+had deceived and she had robbed him. Yet his dominant feeling was joyous
+triumph at having found her when he had thought her lost. He was happy
+because she had summoned him, excited because they were going side by
+side toward some unknown adventure.
+
+He looked at his watch which had been retrieved from the wall safe, and
+said that the time was twelve minutes to eleven. Krantz's Keller was in
+Fourteenth Street, and they could reach there at the hour, for already
+the cab was moving in the right direction. "Are you in a hurry?" he
+asked, "or shall we go a round-about way and talk things over? The
+Keller won't be at its best till nearly midnight."
+
+"I've a--sort of appointment at eleven-thirty," Clo said. "But I'd like
+to be on the spot before that, for a look round to get my bearings. I
+daresay I can tell you the whole story in twelve minutes. I've learned
+the lesson to-night that almost anything can happen, and you can live
+years in the time that it takes to button a pair of shoes."
+
+"Certainly _you_ can accomplish more in a few brief minutes than any
+other person I ever met! My own experience with you proves that!"
+O'Reilly laughed. But the girl's face was drawn. He remembered hearing
+that she had been dangerously ill. He wished her to realize that he was
+ready to give sympathy as well as help. "I don't want to talk of myself,
+but of you. Tell me what you care to tell. You may trust me."
+
+"You're sure?" insisted Clo. "I'm putting my life in your hands."
+
+"I've just my word to give," O'Reilly answered. "Look me in the face and
+decide if it's worth taking."
+
+Clo looked him in the face, and said, "Yes! I'll tell you everything.
+Please don't ask questions, or speak till I finish."
+
+Since the moment when he had been surprised by her voice at the
+telephone, and she had claimed his help, O'Reilly had thought of
+fantastic things, but they were commonplace compared to the story she
+flung at his head. To make him understand, in ten minutes, why she had
+to be at Krantz's Keller meant that she must spring all her facts upon
+him. Already, without knowing how she had escaped at the Dietz, O'Reilly
+had formed the opinion that she was a girl, not in a thousand but in
+many thousands. Now, listening in silence, he heard her tell what she
+had found, and what she had done, in Peterson's room. She spoke in
+simple words. Yet O'Reilly saw the scene as if his eye were at a
+keyhole; saw the girl realize that she was in the presence of a man not
+only dead, but murdered; saw the battle between horror and courage as
+she searched the room and the pockets of the corpse whose blood-stained
+clothing was still warm. He heard the bell of the telephone. He followed
+Clo into the room next door, and marvelled at the way in which she drew
+information from "Chuff." When the taxi slowed down in Fourteenth
+Street, she had but reached the point where she "made a dash for the
+street." O'Reilly's brain had been busy. He was ready to give the advice
+expected.
+
+Clo was talking still, while he paid the chauffeur and sent him away. As
+they entered the restaurant below which lay Krantz's Keller,
+breathlessly she brought her story to an end. "There! You know all I
+know!"
+
+While they went downstairs side by side, step by step, O'Reilly gazed at
+the girl's profile. "I'm going to fall in love with this strange child,"
+he thought. "I'm in love with her already."
+
+They penetrated the blue curtain of tobacco smoke which veiled the
+cellar restaurant. People of all sorts were sitting at small, uncovered
+wooden tables, which were painted green. There were long-haired
+foreigners; there were rich American Jews. There were girls who looked
+like "show girls" or chorus girls at least, companioned by fashionably
+dressed and silly-faced boys. And all the company drank wine from oddly
+shaped bottles, or beer out of stone or pewter "krugs." At the end of
+the long, narrow room stood two huge casks, one on either side of a
+small stage where three men in the costumes of Tyrolese peasants played
+a zither, a 'cello, and a violin, for a gaily dressed boy and girl to
+dance.
+
+There were a number of tables still unoccupied, and of these a few were
+free. O'Reilly chose one close to the entrance. Seated there, he and Clo
+could see everybody who came in or went out. If they themselves wished
+to leave in a hurry it would be a convenient place.
+
+Clo could not even pretend to eat. She asked for strong coffee, and not
+to be conspicuous O'Reilly ordered for himself beer, and food with an
+odd, Russian sounding name. Having thus bought their right to the table,
+he leaned across to the pale girl.
+
+"The time's come when I can tell you what I think," he said. "First,
+what I think of you. You're the bravest person I ever met, and the most
+loyal. If the woman for whose sake you've done this is worthy of her
+friend, why, I'll be on her side from this night on."
+
+"Thank you," said Clo, meekly. She was very tired, but vitality flowed
+through her newly at O'Reilly's words and look. "I don't deserve such a
+compliment, but she deserves everything. If I've behaved badly to you,
+it was for her."
+
+"I know," said O'Reilly. "But you weren't precisely 'bad.' You were, on
+the whole, rather--wonderful. How did you get out of my room with the
+only door locked on the inside?"
+
+"Oh!" the girl cried, surprised, "I thought you'd guess. I went along
+the stone ledge under the window of your bedroom till I came to an open
+window of a room in the next suite."
+
+"I thought of that, when it was too late; but it seemed incredible."
+
+"It wasn't as hard to do as I was afraid it would be," said Clo. "The
+other window was open, the curtain was blowing out. I caught hold of it,
+and got along somehow, through not looking down. Then in the room where
+I went in, there was a man. He was at the door, and I scared him popping
+in that way at the window, so he let me run past. That's all." Firmly
+the girl closed the subject.
+
+"Let's talk about the pearls," she said. "Peterson was a wicked man. I
+can't pretend to be sorry he's been killed. He was acting for others
+higher up. I want to find Kit, not because I think she murdered him, but
+because I'm sure she's got the pearls. Who called out 'Come in!' in a
+man's voice, when Peterson was dead? We haven't got time to discuss the
+whole business before half-past eleven. Here comes my coffee! It's going
+to give me new life!"
+
+"You must need it. Try to nibble a few crumbs of this rusk," O'Reilly
+advised. "I've been thinking hard since you told me how 'Chuff' 'phoned
+to 'Pete,' and took you for Kit. As for the voice that called 'Come in',
+the wall being thin, a man in the room close by might think the knock
+was at his door. You're almost surely right about Kit being in the hotel
+to watch Peterson. No doubt he was acting for men who have the power
+to--trouble Mrs. Sands. Don't look at me like a wild cat! I shan't tell
+what you don't want to hear, but there certainly are such men. Most
+likely Peterson followed us into the Sands' apartment without being
+noticed in the wild confusion of your fainting. He was there to get hold
+of the thing he was blackmailing her for, the thing you went back to my
+hotel to steal, and then repented stealing. Naturally Peterson didn't
+find it, as it was still in my safe at the Dietz, but he might have seen
+the pearls. The fellow must have been hiding close to Mrs. Sands and me,
+when we talked, or he wouldn't have known that John Heron had wanted to
+buy those pearls! He 'phoned, later, from the Westmorland to Heron, as
+you must have guessed from what I 'phoned back. As for Kit, she was in
+her room next door when he called Heron up, and heard about his having
+pearls to sell; or else she went in to help him pack, and saw them. But
+it strikes me that a young woman of her class wouldn't bash a man on the
+head, and risk the Chair, for the righteous joy of turning a fortune
+over to her pals. No, if she killed Peterson, she killed him because she
+wanted the pearls for herself or a 'sweetheart.'"
+
+"There's Churn," said Clo. "He and Kit may be a 'case.' She may have
+gone straight to him with the pearls."
+
+"'Churn's' possibly a nickname for that Lorenz Czerny, whose name you
+found written on a visiting card," O'Reilly said. "What with that card,
+and the memorandum, and Kit's bag, we ought to get on to the track of
+the gang. I'm on Mrs. Sands' side now. But I know a private detective
+who's worked for clients of mine. He's close as an oyster, and true as a
+compass. Chuff may keep his appointment, or he may not. If the real
+Kit's turned up and told the truth, perhaps he won't dare, for fear of a
+trap. Still, he may, if he's got pluck, and a good disguise--or if the
+police have nothing 'on' him. The gang won't want the false Kit to get
+away with what she knows if the real one's true to them. And they'll be
+eager to see whom they're up against. That's why I should like to have
+Denham--the detective--on the spot."
+
+"Would that be the best way to get the pearls?" asked Clo.
+
+"Can you suggest a better one?"
+
+"Not on the spur of the moment."
+
+"It's on the spur of the moment we must decide."
+
+"Well--'phone Denham."
+
+"I will," said O'Reilly. "I think I ought to get him now unless he's on
+some job. I'll be back in a few minutes. There's no danger of serious
+trouble for you here."
+
+"I'm used to taking care of myself," said Clo. The hot, strong coffee
+had brought a faint colour to her face, and she looked up with one of
+those "cheeky" grins of hers, such as his "cousin" had given him at the
+Dietz. O'Reilly went away bewitched with the creature, absorbed in her.
+She had done so much for the love of a woman. What would she do for love
+of a man?
+
+He had to go upstairs to the telephone, it seemed, at Krantz's. Then the
+line was busy. He was obliged to wait.
+
+Meanwhile a tall girl, in a bright pink cloak over a pink dress, hurried
+through the gloomy restaurant. She paused only to glance at a clock on
+the wall, and then ran downstairs to the "Keller."
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+THE GIRL IN PINK
+
+
+Clo sat watching the crowd. She had removed her veil, and the long,
+brown cloak lent by Beverley. The latter she had folded, and was sitting
+upon it.
+
+It was then, when most of the tables were taken, and when a young tenor
+with a good voice had replaced the Italian peasants, that the girl in
+pink walked in. Clo sat with her face to the entrance, and happened to
+be looking that way. At sight of the girl, who came in alone, it was all
+she could do to sit still. She felt the blood stream to her face, and
+taking up the empty coffee cup, pretended to drink.
+
+"Gracious, why did I never think of her!" she wondered. For this was the
+girl who had got out of the elevator at the Westmorland, and had been
+stared at by the men, when Clo and Beverley descended the stairs from
+Peterson's room. Would there have been time after they had turned their
+backs for Kit to get out of the brown trunk (if she'd been in it!),
+fasten the lid, and descend to the lift while the two women went down
+the six flights of stairs?
+
+Yes, there would have been time. Clo was thankful that she had disposed
+of her veil, and was sitting on the cloak. Here at Krantz's she was only
+a girl in a white dress, with a brown toque which at the Westmorland had
+been hidden with a veil.
+
+There were two or three tables still disengaged, but the one with the
+best view of the stage was the one nearest Clo. The girl in pink tripped
+to it, without hesitation, stood for a minute staring at the singer, and
+sat down. Clo watched her. She could not be certain, but she thought the
+girl had caught the eye of the singer and had made him a sign.
+
+Not only had he a good voice, but he was good to look at, dark and
+rather "dashing," "almost like a second-hand gentleman," as Clo said to
+herself. His song pleased the audience, who clapped violently, demanding
+another. But the young man smiled, threw out his hands, shrugged,
+touched his throat, and bowed himself off the stage. By this time the
+girl in pink had ordered a bottle of wine which, to judge by the loving
+care of the waiter, must have been rare and expensive.
+
+The singer sat down with his back to Clo, his companion at his side.
+Thus they were able to draw close, and talk without much fear of being
+overheard.
+
+"Good Lord, Churn, I thought I'd missed you," were the first words Clo
+caught. As the girl spoke she flung a quick glance toward her little
+neighbour at the next table, but Clo had never looked so child-like. "I
+went to the Riche, and you'd gone," Kit continued. "To the Western; too
+late. Gosh! how I hiked for this place! I don't know what I'd done if
+I'd lost you!"
+
+"Vot's de row?" Churn asked cheerfully, speaking with a slight and
+rather agreeable foreign accent. He poured himself a tumblerful of the
+deep-coloured red wine, and drank as if it were water.
+
+"Say, Churn, a big thing's happened. I can't tell you here."
+
+"You want I take you to de hotel?"
+
+"No! I'm never goin' back there. And I can't go to my own digs either.
+I'll explain by and by. Could you take me home with you?"
+
+"No, Jake'll be comin' in."
+
+"Well, let's go to Chuff's. We must be somewhere! I've got a thing to
+show you, Churn. If there's two rooms free in the house we'll take
+'em--or, no, better take one. You'll see why we must be together when
+you know. Say, here's money to pay the wine--looks better for you than
+me. Then we'll be off."
+
+Clo gazed at the door. No O'Reilly yet. But if this pair went she would
+have to go, too. She mustn't lose them!
+
+Churn beckoned a waiter with a ten-dollar bill thrust into his hand by
+Kit. The waiter came; but he had to get change. In Clo's lap, hidden
+under her napkin, was the bag she had found in Kit's room. Stealthily
+she opened it and took out a stub of pencil she had noticed among the
+contents. On the table lay a programme of the evening's entertainment.
+Neither she nor O'Reilly had glanced at it; but now the girl eagerly
+examined the list. Among the names was that of "Lorenz Czerny, Tenor";
+and Clo underlined it with the pencil. Beneath, on the margin, she
+scrawled: "Kit's come and has been talking to him. They're going away. I
+must follow. I leave you all materials for the search--except the pearl.
+I keep that. Don't worry about me. I'll take care of myself."
+
+Clo had plenty of money, supplied by Beverley, so a five-dollar bill was
+laid conspicuously on the crumbs of rusk.
+
+Kit and Churn were on their feet. The waiter had given change, and Churn
+was counting it out. Both stood with their backs to Clo. Clo slipped the
+programme into the bead bag and the bead bag into a pocket of Beverley's
+brown silk coat, on which she had been sitting. She then whisked the
+folded garment from her own chair on to O'Reilly's, and covered it with
+his napkin.
+
+"I hope to goodness I'll meet him on the way up," she thought, "or
+before I get out of the restaurant above. I daren't take the cloak where
+she might see it. Besides, he must have the bag and memorandum."
+
+Churn gave the waiter a fifty-cent piece, and followed Kit, who had
+started. Neither looked back; and Clo beckoned the waiter. "I've an
+engagement," she said, "and can't wait longer for the gentleman I came
+with. He's upstairs telephoning. You tell him I've paid. Never mind the
+change. I'm leaving my coat for the gentleman to bring home. Can I trust
+you to be sure and give it to him?"
+
+"You can, miss," said the man. "I'll take charge of it myself."
+
+He looked trustworthy as well as grateful. Kit and Churn were winding
+their way among the tables. Clo pushed after them. O'Reilly was not on
+the stairs, nor was he visible in the dull restaurant above. He had the
+all-important envelope, it was true, and she could not guess who had
+returned it in a way to make him suppose it came from her. O'Reilly was,
+however, an honourable man, and he had promised to be "on Mrs. Sands'
+side." In the circumstances she saw only one course, and regretfully,
+even fearfully, took it. When Kit and Churn walked out into the street
+she walked after them, a few paces behind.
+
+Clo had been gone precisely four minutes when O'Reilly tore downstairs
+burning to apologize and explain. Mrs. Denham had said that her husband
+was out, but she knew where he was, and would 'phone; if
+he--O'Reilly--would hold the line she'd have an answer "in no time."
+Presently he had been rewarded by "getting" Denham, who, on hearing that
+he was urgently wanted, promised to cut short some work he was doing
+late at the office, and taxi to Krantz's. This was good news, and
+O'Reilly was sure Clo would think it had been worth waiting for. He
+could not believe his eyes when he saw the deserted table. What could
+have happened to the girl?
+
+He stood forlornly for a moment, staring round the room. As his eyes
+searched vainly, the waiter who had served him came hurrying up.
+
+"The young lady's gone, sare. She had to go--very sorry. She left me dis
+to give you when you come back. She pay de bill, sare, but I keep de
+table for you. You not finish your supper."
+
+O'Reilly had a stab of violent resentment against Clo. But the thought
+had only to pass through his brain to be rejected. The girl was a
+strange girl, audacious and unscrupulous in her loyalty to Mrs. Sands;
+but she could not have told her story in a way to impress its truth upon
+him unless she had been sincere.
+
+"The young lady didn't give you any other message?" he asked.
+
+"No, sare. She was in much hurry. But I see her mark on a piece of
+paper," the waiter replied. "Maybe she write you a note."
+
+O'Reilly reflected. Which should he do, look for a message in the pocket
+of the coat Clo had left, or dash upstairs and find out which way she
+had gone? It was almost certain that he would now gain nothing by the
+latter course.
+
+O'Reilly sat down at the table, in the chair where he had sat before. He
+found the one pocket in the brown coat, and in that pocket Kit's jet and
+steel bag. There was nothing else there, so he opened the bag cautiously
+in case some of Kit's friends had arrived. As he did so, the folded
+programme dropped out.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+WHEN BEVERLEY CAME HOME
+
+
+When Clo had shut the taxi door almost in Beverley's face, and had given
+the chauffeur orders to drive on, she had said to herself, "Angel will
+be so surprised she won't know what to do for a minute. And by the time
+she pulls herself together, she'll realize it's too late to stop me."
+
+The girl had judged well. Beverley shrank back from the slammed door
+with a jump of the nerves. Then she guessed what Clo meant to do. She
+was in the act of tapping to stop the chauffeur, and tell him to turn,
+when the question seemed to ask itself aloud in her brain, "What good
+will it do for you to go back?"
+
+Before she could reach Clo, if she returned to the hotel now, the girl
+would have learned the secret of Peterson's room. When she saw what
+Beverley had seen, she would know that there was nothing to be done with
+a dead man. She would slip away to avoid being mixed up in the business
+of the murder. She would not risk being caught. The girl was too
+sensible, and she had plenty of money as well as brains. She had shown
+herself equal to desperate emergencies. She would be equal to this. She
+was so quick-witted that she would know what to do, and how to do it.
+Beverley let the chauffeur drive on. He went to the corner where he had
+been hailed by his two passengers. There he stopped, and Beverley got
+out. She paid him; and making a pretence of examining her change in the
+light of a street lamp, stood still until the taxi had turned and shot
+out of sight. Then, with the bag of jewels which Clo had tossed into her
+lap, she walked home. Her latch-key opened the door of the flat, she
+entered her boudoir, and fell into a chair, sitting as still as the dead
+Peterson had sat. It was not much past ten o'clock.
+
+Five minutes later she took off hat and cloak, and peeped into her
+bedroom to see if her maid were there. But the room was empty, and she
+put away the gray mantle and toque where she had found them. She did not
+forget to toss carelessly upon her bed the hat she had worn in the
+afternoon, and a pair of white gloves; then she rang for her maid who
+came almost at once. She had gone out, Beverley explained quietly, to
+help Miss Riley transact a little matter of business.
+
+It was eleven-thirty when Léontine bade her mistress good-night and
+softly closed the bedroom door. She had noticed nothing strange in the
+manner of Madame, except an unusual lack of vitality.
+
+Left alone, Beverley opened the door of the big, bare room. "Clo," she
+called softly.
+
+No answer. She switched on the light. No one was there, and Beverley
+hurried on to the little room beyond, which had been Sister Lake's. It,
+too, was empty. Something grave, perhaps terrible, had detained the
+girl.
+
+"She won't come--she won't come at all." Beverley said aloud. "What
+shall I do?" She could not abandon the fragile child who loved her, who
+had stood by her with wonderful strength and courage throughout this
+dreadful day. Yet what was there she could do?
+
+Roger returned about one o'clock. He moved quietly, as if in order not
+to disturb his wife, but she heard the cautious closing of his door. She
+did not try or wish to sleep, but lay on her bed, waiting for day.
+
+After six o'clock Beverley could lie still no longer. She stole into her
+bathroom, and bathed in cold water. But she felt as utterly spent after
+her bath as before.
+
+This morning she did penance by putting on a tailor-made, white linen
+suit, of a slightly severe cut, and made her toilet without ringing for
+Léontine. She decided to breakfast at the customary hour and in the
+customary place, but she did not expect to be joined by Roger. She was
+still in her bedroom, fastening a brooch, when he tapped at her door.
+
+"Come in!" she cried, eager for the meeting, yet sick with fear. Roger
+came in, fully dressed, looking cool and well groomed. To Beverley's sad
+heart it seemed that he had never been so handsome--or so hard.
+
+"Good morning," he said, as he might have spoken to any friend. "I heard
+you stirring about, so I thought I might knock. Are you going out
+early?" as his eyes wandered over her dress.
+
+"You mean because I'm dressed? No, I didn't think of it. I couldn't
+sleep. The night was hot, and the heat was on my nerves, I suppose, so I
+got up at six. I hope I didn't disturb you, Roger?"
+
+"Not at all," he politely replied. "I've some business which will take
+me out half an hour sooner than usual. I suppose they can give us
+breakfast in time for that? Coffee and toast and grape fruit can't take
+long to make ready?"
+
+"I'll ring for breakfast. I didn't know if----"
+
+"Didn't know--what?" he caught up her sentence as it broke.
+
+"Oh, nothing--important," she excused herself. Yet she was sure he knew
+what had stopped her short of saying that she didn't know if he would
+breakfast with her in the boudoir.
+
+"Well, I daresay Johnson has put the newspapers in their place by this
+time," Roger said, ignoring her embarrassment. "I'll have a look, to
+save time. You'll come when you're ready? I've a suggestion to make that
+I think you'll like."
+
+He spoke pleasantly, not at all as if he had a grudge against his wife.
+Many women would have been satisfied with such a manner; but Beverley
+was not of the "many women," and Roger had never been like other,
+ordinary husbands. For the first morning since that day in Chicago when
+he had asked her to be his wife, they had not kissed.
+
+"It will always be like this from now on," she told herself. "I hope I
+shall die. I can't live without his love, and go on seeing him every
+day!"
+
+Roger had not mentioned Clo, and Beverley held her peace. She thought it
+would be best to wait and see what the newspapers said. At the end of
+ten minutes, as the breakfast tray was being placed on the lace table
+cover, she strolled into the boudoir. Roger hardly looked up, feigning
+to be deeply interested in his paper. On other mornings--the servant
+being out of the room--he would have sprung from his chair to place
+hers, and perhaps to kiss the long braid of her golden brown hair, or
+the back of her white neck as it showed under her fetching little cap.
+
+"Any exciting news?" she asked in a casual tone, as she sat down--the
+sort of tone which other wives perhaps use to other husbands.
+
+"Nothing that interests us specially," Roger answered. "A rather sordid
+murder, at a third-rate hotel; there's a mystery, of course."
+
+"What hotel?" Beverley ventured to ask, pouring coffee with a hand that
+would shake.
+
+"One I never heard of before. Let me see, what's the name? Oh, the
+'Westmorland.' You'll not be interested. Let's get to the thing I want
+to talk about. Can you guess what it is?"
+
+Beverley shook her head. "I am a bad guesser."
+
+"It's partly about your pearls. By the by, was the pearl-stringer
+satisfactory?"
+
+"Oh, quite," Beverley murmured, sipping her coffee.
+
+"I'm glad she made a good job. The rope looks as fine as if no accident
+had happened, I suppose?"
+
+"It's a--wonderful rope," his wife managed to reply.
+
+"I imagined you'd be wearing your gewgaws for breakfast this morning
+just to show they were all right!" Roger's eyes smiled coolly into hers.
+It was a cruel smile.
+
+"A rope of pearls at breakfast--on a tailor gown of linen--and a queen's
+pearls at that! What bad taste! I shall wear these splendours only on
+the greatest occasions."
+
+"Well, I've arranged a great occasion," said Roger. "That's principally
+what I want to talk about. I'd like you to send out invitations for a
+house party and a big dinner and dance directly after we're settled in
+the Newport cottage. And I'd like to move there sooner than we meant.
+I've decided to take a few weeks' holiday. We'll both be better out of
+the city."
+
+"Oh, yes!" Beverley agreed.
+
+"And I want you to do a thing to please me. Wear the queen's
+pearls--your pearls--on the night of the dinner and dance."
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+MR. JONES OF PEORIA
+
+
+O'Reilly had only just finished reading Clo's note, had folded it up,
+and put it in his pocket when he was joined by a man at whom, for a
+second, he stared as at a stranger. Then a slight contraction of the
+newcomer's eyelid and a twinkle in his eye enlightened Justin.
+
+"Well, this is good, meeting you!" exploded a jolly voice. "I hoped you
+hadn't forgotten poor old Dick Jones, though it's a long time since you
+blew out our way to Peoria. I'm here in little old New York, seeing the
+sights."
+
+"Why, of course, I remember you very well, Mr. Jones," said O'Reilly.
+"Sit down at my table, do. What'll you have, in memory of old times?"
+
+As he spoke, he took in the extraordinary changes Mr. William J. Denham
+had made in his personal appearance. Denham was a slender, youngish man,
+neat and dapper, with light brown hair, a smooth face, and pale skin.
+Jones had reddish, rumpled eye-brows, puffy pink lids, and large, roving
+eyes behind convex glasses. His hair was also red and rumpled, and
+though he was not enormously stout, he was clumsily built, with a
+decided paunch.
+
+When he had sat down at O'Reilly's table, the absence of near neighbours
+and the momentary inattention of waiters gave the two men a chance to
+speak freely. "You sent a hurry call. Something up at Krantz's this
+peaceful Sabbath?"
+
+"There's more up than I want to come out," said O'Reilly. "Things have
+changed since I 'phoned, but there's more need of you than ever. The
+girl I wanted to help was with me. While I talked to you, she
+disappeared...."
+
+"Disappeared!"
+
+"Yes. I couldn't follow, because when I knew what had happened it was
+too late to get on her track; otherwise you'd have found me flown. I'd
+have sacrificed you for her, if there'd been even a sporting chance. But
+I didn't see one. Maybe you will, when I put you wise: or somebody may
+show up whose face will give you a tip. I'll tell you what I
+know--except the name of a lady which mustn't come into the business
+even with discretion incarnate like you."
+
+"Reservations often spoil jobs," said Denham.
+
+"Mine won't."
+
+The coming of a waiter broke the conversation.
+
+"Anybody interesting here?" asked Justin, when the waiter had gone.
+
+"No familiar faces. But there may be, later."
+
+O'Reilly shook his head. "It's a quarter to twelve. The man or men who
+made an appointment--not with me; with the girl who's gone--should have
+turned up at eleven-thirty."
+
+"If they're sure of themselves--sure their faces aren't known--they're
+probably here," remarked Denham. "But out with your story. A lot may
+hang on that."
+
+"A lot does," said O'Reilly; and told it. He omitted no detail given by
+Clo except such as led too close to Mrs. Sands. O'Reilly hardly
+disguised the fact that the crime and its punishment were of slight
+importance to him compared with the finding of Clo Riley. "I don't want
+her mixed up in this murder business," he finished, "and she doesn't
+want to be mixed up in it, not for her own sake, but because of the
+woman she's protecting. You could get the name of that woman, but I ask
+you not to concern yourself with it."
+
+"Right you are," Denham reassured him. "I've got enough to do without
+meddling in other folks' business. The lady outside the case doesn't
+exist. But as for 'Churn' being Lorenz Czerny, it doesn't go without
+saying that we shall spot Chuff and Jake, and the rest of the gang
+through him. That will depend on himself, and his Moll--Kit. I wouldn't
+mind offering your young lady a good place and good pay when this mix-up
+comes to an end."
+
+"I do not believe she'll be looking for work," said O'Reilly.
+
+"This Kit must be pretty sharp, too. It looks as if Churn was her
+'steady.' If she did the job at the Westmorland, it was to set him and
+her up in housekeeping, later on, well away from Chuff and Co. Looks as
+if Kit had been used for a catspaw, and maybe hadn't got enough out of
+the job for herself. Suddenly she saw a whole dazzling lot. I can't get
+on to who this Kit is yet. But maybe I will. Your little friend does
+shoot quick--and low."
+
+"She does," said O'Reilly. "But she doesn't hit below the belt."
+
+"Folks like Kit and Churn and Chuff haven't got belts," said Denham.
+
+O'Reilly laughed again. But he wanted Clo. She was made for him--the
+demon, the darling, the only girl he had ever seriously desired. He
+hadn't known that she existed till to-night, when she'd begun their
+acquaintance by tricking and stealing from him. Though he might laugh,
+he wouldn't know a happy moment till she was safe. For an instant he
+forgot Denham and the business in hand. "I think she likes me," he told
+himself. "I'll make her like me a lot more when I get half a chance."
+
+"That couple will hide," Denham was saying. "Churn may send word to
+Krantz that he can't sing; he'll say he's sick. But I shan't do any such
+thing as put Krantz wise that his tenor is wanted. Krantz is a fox. Our
+hope is in Miss Riley."
+
+"You'll come to the Dietz, won't you?" asked O'Reilly.
+
+"Yes," said the detective, finishing his cool beer. "I'll come. But I
+haven't got much hope from what may be in that bead bag. People who have
+things to hide, hide 'em better than in bags. However, we'll see." When
+Justin had paid for Denham's drink, they went, with the bead bag in the
+pocket of Clo's brown cloak hanging over O'Reilly's arm. It was after
+midnight.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+ACCORDING TO THE MORNING PAPERS
+
+
+Roger had talked of nothing but his plan for the Newport house-warming,
+after starting the subject; and he had told Beverley that they ought to
+be able to move in a week. She must make everything right about the
+servants: he would see to outside arrangements. And this "big party"
+could take place in a fortnight. It was ostentatious sending out
+invitations longer in advance. They must make a "splash"--worthy of the
+house--and the pearls. Beverley must think up something original in the
+way of entertainment--a surprise. And as he talked it seemed to the girl
+that his eyes never left her face. Beverley promised to move to Newport
+when Roger wished. She promised to write the invitations, and--she
+promised to wear the queen's pearls.
+
+At last Roger went, without having alluded to Clodagh Riley. Whether
+this were deliberate, or careless, Beverley could not guess. But she was
+thankful.
+
+The instant Roger had gone Beverley seized the paper he had dropped, and
+found what she wanted. "Mysterious Murder at Hotel Westmorland" was the
+heading at the top of a column on the first page. She sat down and read
+the whole report.
+
+That day was among the most terrible of Beverley's chequered life. She
+had had several engagements, but she telephoned to put them off. Not for
+anything would she have left the house, for she hoped to have a message
+from Clo. She feared to hear also from one whom Peterson served, but it
+was best that she should be at home if such a message arrived.
+
+"Have they kept their word? Have they killed Stephen because I didn't
+send back the papers?" she constantly asked herself. "What will they do
+next? Will they advertise again in the newspapers? Will they telephone?
+Will they send another man, now Peterson is dead? Or if not, how will
+they reach me? Surely they won't leave me in peace for long!"
+
+The day passed with outward monotony. It was only within herself that
+each moment was different from every other.
+
+When evening came at last, nothing had happened, yet Beverley's nerves
+were jarred as if by a succession of shocks. As Léontine dressed her for
+dinner, a sharp tap at the door made her jump and cry out. "A
+special-delivery letter for me, Madame," announced the Frenchwoman.
+"Have I Madame's permission? It is strange I do not know the hand. It is
+but a common yellow envelope, addressed in pencil, to Mademoiselle
+Léontine Rossignol--perhaps from someone who begs. Never have I received
+a letter by special delivery!"
+
+"You'd better open it," said Beverley, relieved that the letter was not
+for her.
+
+"Rossignol is so odd a name, Madame, that everyone remembers, because it
+means nightingale," said Léontine, gingerly tearing off an end of the
+flimsy yellow envelope.
+
+Then, suddenly she cried out. "But Madame, the letter is from
+Mademoiselle Riley! I do not see why she writes to me. I understand
+nothing of what she says. Will Madame read?"
+
+Hiding eagerness, Beverley took the half sheet of commercial paper.
+
+The letter began:
+
+     DEAR LÉONTINE:
+
+     I am safe in my new home, and there's no need to worry. I am
+     picking up all that I have lost. I hope to call on you before long
+     and show what good progress I have made. With grateful messages for
+     Madame, from her devoted little servant, and kind remembrance to
+     you--I am, faithfully yours,
+
+     Clodagh Riley.
+
+     P.S.--If possible I should like Mr. O'R. to hear that I am doing
+     well. He has been kind since you saw me last.
+
+There was no date and no address on this letter, which filled only one
+page.
+
+Beverley's bewilderment passed as she studied the letter. Clo's
+underlying motives came to the surface with a flash.
+
+"I suppose," she explained quietly, "that Mademoiselle fancied it would
+be a liberty to write to me. I'm glad to hear from her so soon. As the
+letter is really for me, perhaps I'd better keep it."
+
+"Please do, madame," Léontine urged, again attacking the tiny hooks
+which fastened her mistress's dinner dress. "I noticed that Mademoiselle
+did not put the number of the house or street where she is staying. But,
+of course, Madame will know both."
+
+"Of course," echoed Beverley. She guessed that Léontine must be consumed
+with curiosity as to Clo's disappearance and the departure of Sister
+Lake.
+
+When Léontine had hooked the last hook Beverley went to the boudoir.
+There she sat down with Clo's cryptic message, praying that Roger might
+not come till she had unravelled it.
+
+But, after all, the meaning of one sentence after another sprang quickly
+to her eyes. She had realized at once that Clo wrote to Léontine because
+she dared not use the name of Mrs. Sands. This suggested that she was in
+a house where the name of Sands was not unknown. Now, concentrating upon
+the queer letter, Beverley understood each veiled hint. Clo wished her
+not to "worry." Clo was "picking up all she had lost." Clo "hoped to
+call before long, and show what good progress" she had made. All this
+could have only one meaning. And how like Clo, to have treasured in some
+brain-cell Léontine's queer name of "Rossignol"!
+
+She had written nothing to waken suspicion; and as no house, no street,
+was mentioned, there need be no dread of discovery for guilty
+consciences. Beverley judged that O'Reilly's name as well as Roger's
+might be known to someone near to Clo. Evidently she was afraid to send
+a letter to Justin O'Reilly. But the end of the postscript was amazing.
+O'Reilly had been kind to Clo!
+
+"She went to see him again!" was the thought in Beverley's mind. "Then,
+perhaps, she didn't go back to the Westmorland. What can 'kind' mean,
+unless he's promised to help instead of hurt us?"
+
+But she must find out what had happened last between O'Reilly and Clo.
+How should she communicate with him? Should she send a note by district
+messenger to the Dietz? Or--should she telephone, before Roger came, and
+learn all that she wished to know without delay? Quickly she decided
+upon this bolder course. She called up O'Reilly's hotel, and soon heard
+his "Hello!"
+
+"I'm Mrs. Sands," she explained. "I've a letter from Clo. She sends you
+a message."
+
+The voice from the Dietz had sounded indifferent. It was so no longer.
+
+"What news?" O'Reilly asked. "Tell me everything."
+
+She told him, and read Clo's letter to Léontine distinctly, that he
+might miss no word. "I understand why it might be dangerous to put an
+address, or to write to you or me," Beverley added. "But it's frightful
+not to know where she is. Explain what you can quickly, because--I'm
+expecting someone."
+
+"Peterson stole your pearls," O'Reilly answered. "He 'phoned Heron and
+offered to sell them. He must have been hiding in your room and
+overheard our talk. Later, I answered him for Heron. Miss Riley was in
+Peterson's room then, and she and I got in touch. She asked through the
+'phone if I'd help. I said 'Yes,' and she told me to come with a taxi. I
+picked her up outside the hotel, and took her where she wanted to go: a
+restaurant, Krantz's Keller. When I'd heard what she had to say I
+proposed to employ a private detective. Don't worry; he's absolutely
+loyal, and I'm on your side, after all, Mrs. Sands--I may as well
+confess it's for Miss Riley's sake. She repented stealing the papers
+from me, you know, and sent them back in the envelope just as they
+were----"
+
+"Clo sent you the papers! You're mistaken. I know she didn't send them,"
+Beverley cried. She had forgotten her fear of being overheard, forgotten
+everything, but the sound of a door closing caused her to start. It was
+a strange sound just then, because both doors had already been shut when
+she went to the telephone, the door leading into her bedroom, the door
+into the hall, and she had heard neither open since. Yet she could not
+be mistaken. Somebody had closed one of those doors and must previously
+have opened it.
+
+Sick with fear, Beverley dropped the receiver and ran to look into the
+hall. No one was there. She flew to the door of her bedroom and peeped
+in. The room was empty. She rang for Johnson, who appeared at once.
+
+"Has Mr. Sands come in?" she asked.
+
+"I think not, Madam," the butler replied.
+
+"Go and see. Search everywhere."
+
+She did not move while the man was away.
+
+"Mr. Sands is not in the house, Madam," Johnson solemnly announced.
+
+"Thank you!" Beverley said. Yet she was not relieved. Something told her
+that it was Roger who had shut the door.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+WHAT CLO DID WITH A KNIFE
+
+
+When Kit and Churn left Krantz's Keller they walked fast along
+Fourteenth Street till they came to Sixth Avenue. There they appeared to
+hesitate, as if they could not decide whether to go up or down town.
+Clo, as close behind them as she dared to venture, guessed instantly
+that, until now, they had not entirely made up their minds which of
+several hiding-places it would be safest for them to seek.
+
+Judging by their linked arms, and the nearness of the two heads, their
+conversation was absorbing. They stopped at the corner, and Clo stopped
+also. Presently the pair resolved on going down toward Thirteenth
+Street. Clo went after them. They walked for several blocks; and the
+girl following always glanced at the number of each street she passed.
+There had been an accident to a taxi, however, in the neighbourhood of
+Eleventh Street, and a crowd had collected. In this crowd Clo nearly
+lost the quarry. She had a moment of despair, then saw the skirt of Kit
+in the distance. No longer was she wearing a pink cloak, but a white
+one. She must have had a chance to turn it wrong side out!
+
+So excited was Clo that she forgot to notice the streets. Whether the
+couple turned off the Avenue into Tenth, or Ninth, or Eighth, she was
+not sure. She was certain only that she was on their track. Then
+followed a chase across town. In this, the girl finally lost her head a
+little, but when it seemed that she could drag herself no further, Kit
+and Churn stopped in front of a house, and rang the bell.
+
+"Neither of them lives there, or there'd be a latch-key!" Clo thought,
+hovering on the other side of the street.
+
+It was some time before the two were let in; but after a delay of four
+or five minutes a woman opened the door. A dim gas light shone from the
+hall or lobby, and Clo's impression was of a dark brown face, the face
+of a negress. There was a short discussion; then the woman nodded,
+stepping aside to let Kit and Churn pass. An instant later the door shut
+them in.
+
+Clo stood gazing at the house. It was one in a row of old-fashioned,
+shabby brick buildings, four storeys in height. A light showed in the
+basement, but other windows were black. Suddenly, as Clo watched, a
+yellow gleam flashed in a fourth-storey room but at the same moment a
+man stepped to the window and pulled down a dark blind. Clo thought that
+this man was Churn.
+
+"They're going to stay," she argued; and crossing the street at a
+distance from the house, the girl looked at it with interest. There was
+no street lamp near, and she could not see the number; but there was a
+small plaque at the side of the door, and Clo tripped up the steps to
+read it. Joy, the place was a boarding house!
+
+The pair having mounted to the fourth storey, Clo thought she might
+venture to ring. She pulled an old-fashioned bell, and her heart thumped
+in her breast as the shrill sound jingled through the house.
+
+"I must have some tale to tell--why I'm here so late, wanting a room,"
+she reflected.
+
+The door was opened by the woman who had admitted Kit and Churn. Not
+only was she black, but she was fat and slovenly. Staring at the
+new-comer, she exclaimed with a mouth full of gum:
+
+"Say, is you another fren' o' Mr. Cheffinsky?"
+
+"Chuff!" was the password that flashed through Clo's brain. "This is
+where he lives!" She was triumphant.
+
+"I don't know anything about Mr. Cheffinsky," she replied, "but I'm in a
+scrape, and a friend of mine once recommended me to this house. I saw
+some people come in, and a light. It's still a boarding-house, isn't
+it?"
+
+"It ain't no foundlin' orphant asylum."
+
+"I don't ask for charity. I've got money to pay my board. But I don't
+want an expensive room. One at the top of the house will do."
+
+"Say, it's a real funny time o' night for a young girl like you to go
+lookin' foh a home to lay her haid," remarked the negress. "But you can
+step in the hall. I'll call Mis' MacMahon. She's the lady o' the house.
+We've got a room upstahs, but I don't know whethah she'll let you have
+it."
+
+She allowed Clo to enter, and left the girl standing as she descended
+the basement stairs.
+
+"'MacMahon' sounds hopeful!" Clo thought. The girl had lodged drearily
+in New York, but she had never been in a house as dreary as this.
+
+Mrs. MacMahon's look was less inspiring than her name. She was of the
+big-jowled type; a grim woman of middle age; and her manner suggested
+suspicion. But Clo began to speak first, with her best brogue, which she
+could use, when needed, with great effect.
+
+"I beg your pardon, ma'am, for intruding on ye at this time of the
+night," said the girl in her creamiest voice, with a child-like smile,
+"but the lady I'm maid for and me had a quarrel about a young man, and
+rather than give him up, I just walked away from the house, without
+waitin' to pack my things. I've walked till I'm played out! I tould yer
+maid a friend o' mine had spoken o' Mrs. MacMahon's place and I didn't
+forget. I'll pay a week in advance if you'll take me in."
+
+Whether Mrs. MacMahon believed these out-pourings was an open question,
+but her face softened slightly at sound of the brogue.
+
+"Irish, are you!" she said.
+
+"Yes, County Cork, and not over since very long," returned the girl.
+
+"I'm from County Cork, me and me dead husband both," volunteered the
+woman. "I've been in New York these twelve years. Violet says you ast
+for a top-floor room?"
+
+"I did that," said Clo.
+
+"Well, a top-floor room is the only wan I've got vacant. How long would
+ye be wanting it for?"
+
+"Oh, a few days, and maybe more."
+
+"You can come and have a look. I don't boast of the room. It's last
+choice. I charge seven dollars with board."
+
+"I don't mind seven dollars," said Clo, and followed her hostess up
+flight after flight of dimly lighted stairs. They were covered with
+oilcloth, and the hall smelled of escaping gas, but the girl was almost
+happy. The place was not attractive, but it seemed decent enough.
+
+"It's a hall room, but a front one," explained Mrs. MacMahon, panting,
+as they reached the top of the house. Clo was enchanted to hear this,
+for it meant that the room must adjoin the one where Churn had pulled
+down the blind. She wondered if Churn were married to Kit. Perhaps she
+would find out by and by.
+
+"There's a husband and wife come into the double room next," Mrs.
+MacMahon went on, when she had shown Clo her proposed quarters. "The
+wall's kind of thin, for this room was part of the other once, but
+they're a quiet couple, I guess: and if you're quiet, too, you won't
+trouble each other. They're friends of a gentleman boarder we've had for
+some time, and they've been here to call on him, though they've never
+stayed before. I want 'em to be comfortable, so stir around as little as
+you can in the morning. I guess they're the kind that lies late in bed."
+
+"I feel more as if I'd like to lie in bed all day!" sighed Clo.
+
+"Well, sleep as much as you like. But don't be scared if ye hear folks
+movin' later on to-night. The friend of this couple is out, but he may
+come home and want to see 'em."
+
+Clo paid seven dollars in advance for the room, and took pains to show
+that she had plenty of money. She begged also to buy or borrow a clean
+nightgown, and suggested that, if there were a new toothbrush in the
+house, she would be glad to have it. Mrs. MacMahon laughed. A nightgown
+she could lend, but as for a toothbrush, there wouldn't be one this side
+of the nearest drugstore. Miss Ryan (the name Clo gave) must wait till
+next day.
+
+"Well, anyhow, maybe you've a bit you'll give me to eat!" the new
+boarder pleaded. "I'm that hungry I could bite off the door-knob! I'll
+pay extra, of course--this time of night. And your coloured
+woman--Violet, isn't she?--shall have a couple of dimes for bringing up
+the food."
+
+Mrs. MacMahon softened and asked what food her guest desired. Clo
+desired nothing so much as a knife, and made a bid to secure one by
+asking for meat. "Any old kind!--and some bread and milk. I'll give
+fifty cents--" (she watched the woman's eye)--"I mean, a dollar for my
+supper."
+
+When Mrs. MacMahon had gone the girl held her breath to listen. Yes, the
+wall was thin! She could hear Kit and Churn talking in an ordinary tone,
+but she could catch few words, even when she laid her ear against the
+dusty paper. When the voices sank low, they reached her only in an
+indistinct rumble.
+
+She guessed that the tiny room was separated from the larger one by a
+partition of laths and plaster, covered on each side with flimsy wall
+paper. She could feel as well as hear someone walking up and down, up
+and down, in the next room! No doubt it was Churn. Now and then he would
+pause. A piece of furniture would creak; then he would jump up, to begin
+walking again.
+
+Presently Violet appeared, a coarse nightgown hanging over her arm, a
+plate of bread and ham on a napkinless tray, and glass of bluish milk.
+Clo gave the woman twenty cents, and promised the same sum if her
+breakfast were brought upstairs. Violet agreed to this bargain, which
+was well for the girl. She would have starved rather than desert her
+room long enough to eat while Churn and Kit remained in their quarters.
+She surmised that they would not often go out.
+
+Clo had told the truth in pleading hunger, but when she was alone and
+had locked her door, she took from the tray only the steel knife and
+fork which lay beside the plate. Having pushed the cot bed away from the
+wall, she sat down on the floor, Turk fashion. Choosing a spot which
+would be invisible with the bed in place, she waited till Churn was
+inclined to walk. Then she began delicately to dig at the plaster with
+her extemporized tools. Whenever Churn stopped, she stopped also, lest
+the rat-like noise should reach alert ears in the next room. For a long
+time she toiled, cautiously, slowly, gathering up bits of paper and
+plaster that fell, and collecting them in her lap. It was a tedious
+task, but not difficult. In less than an hour she had made--practically
+without noise--a hole the size of a silver dollar. It went through to
+the lathes; beyond that barrier her tools were of no avail. She needed a
+thin, sharp instrument like a hat-pin, to push between the slats of
+wood. A tiny hole would suffice. But she had no hat-pin in the
+close-fitting toque lent by Beverley. Her own was now a souvenir in
+O'Reilly's possession.
+
+She tried hair-pins, but they bent, one after another. Then she searched
+for a nail, and found one at last, stuck in the wall, supporting a small
+mirror. Carefully she deposited this upon the bed (it wouldn't do to
+break a looking glass!) and set to work once more. At the end of twenty
+minutes' scratching, she felt resistance cease before the nail-point.
+Hastily she withdrew it, lest it should pierce too far; and stretched on
+the floor she listened with her ear to the aperture on her side of the
+wall.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+THE NINE DAYS
+
+
+"I wish Chuff would come, and get it over!" she heard Churn sigh aloud,
+in his sweet, foreign-sounding voice.
+
+"I wonder why he went out?" said Kit. "He ought to have been home all
+evening. He was expecting Pete on business, you know."
+
+"Can he have got onto de reason dat fellah Pete didn't come?"
+
+"No, no," Kit answered. "I've told you a dozen times no! He wouldn't
+have gone to the Westmorland. Pete had to call on him. But there must
+have been something important to take Chuff out."
+
+"Vat vas de plan?"
+
+"Oh, what does it matter? To-night's changed everything for me, and you,
+too. You are goin' to stand by me, aren't you, Churn, through thick and
+thin?"
+
+"You bettcha life! For de whole of vot I'm vorth!"
+
+Kit's tone changed. She chuckled. "You may be worth a lot. You've
+married a rich heiress. See?"
+
+"Sh, girl! If Chuff comes spyin' on us we don't vant him to hear dat
+word 'married.' He'd only laugh--or vorse."
+
+"All right! But he ain't our master any more. We can do without him."
+
+"Maybe he von't tink he can do vidout us."
+
+"He'll _have_ to, when we get something good on the pearls. And say, I
+never thought you could kill any one and feel no more than I do now.
+Churn, if you'd been there, you'd 'a' settled his hash long before I
+did. The things he said to me--and me your wife! It makes me sick to
+think o' them--and of him, the low beast!"
+
+"Don't tink, den. Tink of me."
+
+"I do. I love you, Boy! The minute I lamped the pearls--when I sensed
+they was real--I meant to get 'em, for you and me to set up house far
+away somewheres on our own. We can go to Buenos Aires or some place
+south, where they love a nice voice like yours, so you won't feel
+wasted. If Chuff knew what we've got here in this table drawer!"
+
+"Better tie 'em up in your handkerchief again. If Chuff----"
+
+"Oh, Chuff nothing! I feel in my bones, now he's so late, he won't come
+home to-night. I don't care what happens to Chuff. Let's go to bed."
+
+"No--not yet. I vait."
+
+"Peterson thought he could say what he liked to me, the pig!" Kit went
+on. "Well, he's paid. His blood's on his own head. Oh, Churn, it was on
+his head, every sense o' the word! I didn't like the look of it--turned
+me sick! Lucky my long cloak was in the room. See--on my dress, two
+stains! Boy, that trunk stunt was awful. You've got to let me go to bed
+and sleep, or I believe I'll have hysterics and yell the house down. I
+thought I was all right since I found you, but it's comin' on again,
+that tremblin'!"
+
+"Go to bed, den, girl. I vait. Dat's easy."
+
+"I will. Just one more look at the pearls--our pearls! But I lost one. I
+heard it roll. It was so close to him I--I couldn't----"
+
+"Don't you care. Dere's a lot for us. We'll count 'em first ting
+to-morra', ven ve both feel like ourselves."
+
+"They ought to fetch a king's ransom, Boy."
+
+"Dey vill not, den. Dere'll be all de bulls in N'York after em. Joke on
+us, dough, if Chuff was in de deal mit Pete!"
+
+"I'm sure he wasn't--dead sure."
+
+Silence fell. When the pair spoke again it was of other things. At last
+Clo fell suddenly fast asleep, on the floor. She knew that Beverley's
+pearls were in the next room. That had to be enough for the night.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The girl slept till dawn. Waking, she was astonished to find herself on
+the floor, and for an instant could not remember what had happened. But
+in a flash it all came back. Quickly she got up and quietly undressed,
+putting on Mrs. MacMahon's immense nightgown before she dropped
+thankfully upon the cot bed. Clo did not sleep again, but lay until
+eight o'clock, when her neighbours began to stir. Then she listened once
+more at the hole in the wall until she feared that Violet might come
+with breakfast. The woman had suggested bringing it at nine, and lest
+she should wonder why the hungry girl hadn't supped, the milk had to be
+hastily poured away and the bread and ham hidden. The bed had also to be
+lifted into place covering the hole in the wall.
+
+Nothing of special interest had been said by Kit and her husband since
+their waking, but soon the young woman began to concern herself with the
+subject of clothes.
+
+"I told Mrs. MacMahon we expected our baggage this morning from
+Brooklyn. If it doesn't come it's been stolen--see? The old party won't
+think wrong of Chuff's pals. He's a real family friend. Gee, all sorts
+of things happen in a house like this! Before long we'll 'phone Isaacs
+to come along and look at the pearls. Chuff's got a 'phone in his room,
+you know."
+
+Clo knew also. She had good reason to know, and that Chuff had lent his
+telephone book to "Jake."
+
+As Violet kicked on the door (her hands being occupied with the tray)
+Clo hastily stuffed a handkerchief into the hole she had made in the
+wall. She feared that the pair in the next room might take alarm at the
+sound of voices, and therefore she cautiously subdued her own. She
+hadn't slept well, she answered Violet's question. Her head ached, and
+perhaps she might lie in bed the rest of the day. The promised reward
+was given, and more offered if Violet would find time to buy toilet
+articles, and a few clothes. She was begged to bring writing paper also;
+there might be a letter to send by express delivery.
+
+The coffee, though weak, was hot, and Clo felt revived after drinking
+it. Once more she placed the bed across the door, pulled out the
+handkerchief "gag" from the hole in the wall, and thus, on sentinel
+duty, finished her breakfast.
+
+Later in the day the couple next door resigned themselves to the
+indefinite absence of Chuff. "Mrs. Mac" herself came up to see her
+guests, who called themselves Mr. and Mrs. Stahl. The landlady talked of
+Mr. Cheffinsky as her "star boarder," and said that she was used to his
+"queer ways." Often he stopped away from home a day or two, but she
+never worried. He always came back. The "Stahls" were voluble over the
+non-arrival of their luggage, which seemed to vex them more than the
+appearance of Cheffinsky, their old friend. Whether or not Mrs. MacMahon
+believed the story, at all events she agreed to supply the needs of Mr.
+and Mrs. Stahl, ordering a list of things for their selection. This
+arrangement raised Clo's hopes. Maybe Churn and Kit intended to venture
+out! If they went for a short airing, they would probably leave the
+pearls at home. In their absence Clo would somehow get into the room
+next door. With Beverley's jewels recaptured, her mission in this house
+would be accomplished.
+
+But she was doomed to disappointment. After writing her hopeful letter
+to Léontine, Clo's expectations of quick success were dashed. Kit and
+Churn received the clothes they wanted, but did not go out; nor did they
+audibly plan to go. Their intention was to eat downstairs, but they
+would take turns. One would always keep guard over the pearls. Newspaper
+mention of the "girl in pink" had scared them. After a heated argument
+they decided that, till they "saw how the wind blew," they would not
+risk sending for Isaacs. This was a sacrifice, because they wished to
+dispose of the pearls before Cheffinsky came "nosing around"; but they
+were not sure of Isaac's loyalty. Who could tell what he might do, if
+tempted by big bribes to "frame" his pals? They must wait; and so must
+Clo.
+
+Days passed. The girl still posed as an invalid taking a rest-cure, and
+her tips to Violet were generous. Once she heard Kit inquiring who lived
+in the next room; but Mrs. Mac's answer was satisfactory. A poor little
+mite of a thing, out of a job as lady's maid, was their neighbour;
+Irish, and recommended by an old client.
+
+Nine days lagged on, and then at last Clo came upon a "personal" in the
+newspaper she took in. Instantly she realized that it was meant for her,
+and put in by Justin O'Reilly. It was so worded that no "outsider" could
+guess its meaning. "C.R. from her cousin who is just in," was the
+heading which caught her eye. He knew that she knew his name was Justin;
+and she had first introduced herself as his cousin! "Working out
+Sunday's problem with expert help," she read, "Message received
+insufficient. Won't you let me know where you are?"
+
+The girl dared not answer by letter or newspaper. Violet would undertake
+any errand, but she could not be trusted for a mission of such
+importance. O'Reilly must be content with the message passed on by Mrs.
+Sands.
+
+On the ninth day Kit and Churn had a serious quarrel. The man insisted
+on going out. He could stand his imprisonment no longer; not for Kit,
+not for the pearls!
+
+Clo was not on sentinel duty when the explosion came. The hole in the
+wall was open (she stuffed it up only when someone knocked, lest the
+pair should take alarm at the clearness of sounds), but it was late in
+the afternoon of a blazing hot day, and the girl lay on her narrow bed,
+disgusted with life. She had now paid for a second week in advance.
+There wasn't money to go on with for long, at the present rate, and she
+knew not how to get more, but it was too hot to trouble about the
+future. The quarrel next door was so sordid that Clo had ceased to
+listen, when suddenly the names "Olga and Stephen," spoken loudly by
+Kit, waked her from a half doze. With the light swiftness of a cat she
+sprang off the bed, and went to her post.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+"STEPHEN'S DEAD!"
+
+
+"I thought you'd sure know the whole story," Kit was saying.
+
+"I on'y knowed about Stephen. That I had to know," said Churn.
+
+"But you knew why Pete came to New York, instead of going West, when he
+got out of stir in Chicago?"
+
+"I know he come to kill Heron----"
+
+"Hully gee! Not so loud!"
+
+"Well, I know 'oo he came for den, if you like dat better."
+
+"But that wasn't the whole reason."
+
+"I knowed he was goin' to get hold o' some papers for Chuff; papers dat
+was mixed all up mit our business."
+
+"H'm! That's what Chuff wanted us to think--that they concerned us. But
+if you know about those papers, you must know the rest, about Olga."
+
+"I know vat Olga and Stephen vas to each other, if dat's vat you mean."
+
+"And who Olga is?"
+
+"Olga Beverley."
+
+"Greenhorn! You never got further than that?"
+
+"No. Vat for I get furder? I never see 'er. She's a name to me, dat's
+all. Nevaire vould I heard even dat name if I didn't take care o'
+Stephen, when Jake vas off on a bust or doin' a job for Chuff."
+
+"Funny we never got on to this line o' talk before," mused Kit.
+
+"I don't see vy 'funny.' You and me always haf something better to talk
+about, Katchen. And till dese nine days in dis hole, we never 'ad too
+much time together."
+
+"If Pete had been found dead and I hadn't done it, I'd say it was
+'Olga!' She was the woman who had to give up the papers to him. He told
+me he was waitin' for the papers to come. He said he wasn't sure whether
+she'd bring 'em herself, or this girl you've seen about in the
+newspapers; the one who called on him Sunday afternoon. I've told you
+about the women's voices in the hall, and someone sittin' plump on the
+trunk when I was inside. Well, if I could o' peeped, I bet I'd seen
+Olga. She was one of the women dressed for the automobile they're tryin'
+to trace an' can't."
+
+"Would you knowed Olga if you 'ad seen her?"
+
+"Would I? Say, did you never hear of Roger Sands?"
+
+"He was de guy who worked for Heron las' year, and got de gang goin'
+after him."
+
+"Well, it was Olga he married, but not with her own name. She'd took
+another so as to get away with the papers. She's had the papers from
+then till now. The thing that interests me, and maybe will you, is
+something else. It popped into my nut to-day that the pearls are hers! I
+bet something went wrong with the papers, and she gave Pete the pearls
+instead. I bet he was studyin' how to double-cross Chuff, and square
+himself when--when my act comes on."
+
+"What 'old would Chuff 'ave on a woman married mit a big fellah like
+Sands?" Churn wanted to know. "Vy she let herself be skinned like dat,
+for Stephen's dead an' stiff dese tree weeks or more?"
+
+"Yes," Kit repeated. "Stephen's been dead 'most a month. That's one
+reason they couldn't let things slide, so the minute Pete was free they
+put him on the job. He was keen, because of Heron. And John Heron blew
+into New York just the right time, for the plan. Pete was to get the
+papers first, and then--you know what."
+
+"Yes, I know dat. But Stephen--Stephen gone, what 'old 'ad Chuff on
+Olga?"
+
+"Booby, dear, Olga doesn't know Stephen's dead."
+
+Clo's blood rushed to her brain. She felt faint. Had she been on her
+feet she would have fallen. This was the one thing of all for Beverley.
+Clo felt that she hated this cruel Cheffinsky with an almost murderous
+hatred. How could she let Beverley know, and make her understand that
+"Stephen" was dead. Ought she to go back with her news to Park Avenue,
+and abandon the pearls? The police could never be asked to take a hand
+in this business, and before she could even ask help from O'Reilly and
+Denham, Churn might have disappeared. With herself as sentinel off duty,
+nothing was sure, for a dangerous restlessness possessed the pair.
+Still, Beverley would sacrifice the pearls for the knowledge that her
+enemies had no longer any hold upon her.
+
+"If I dared telegraph!" the girl thought. For she wanted Beverley to
+have both the knowledge and the pearls.
+
+About this hour Violet was in the habit of toiling up with beer for Kit
+and Churn, and water or lemonade for their neighbour. The woman was due
+in a few minutes and Clo spent the interval in concocting a message for
+Léontine Rossignol.
+
+"Tell your mistress I've had news since I last saw her that Stephen is
+dead," were the words she decided on, before Violet's arrival was
+advertised by a tinkle of ice.
+
+The telegram was delivered that night at the flat in Park Avenue, but
+Mr. and Mrs. Sands and their household had left for Newport. Only a
+parlour maid remained. She detested Léontine, being Bohemian by birth,
+while Léontine was French. Anna Schultz decided to forget indefinitely
+the telegram for Léontine Rossignol.
+
+When she had sent the message, Clo's thoughts went back to the pearls.
+She would be driven to leave the house soon for lack of money. If she
+had to go without the pearls, she would feel herself a failure. The net
+was proving tough for the tiny teeth of a mouse! But the mouse was ready
+to do anything rather than give up.
+
+That evening Churn again announced his intention to go out at any cost.
+Whither he was bound, Clo did not know, for she had missed scraps of
+talk in the next room. Kit cried, and in the midst of hysterical sobs,
+the door slammed. Churn had gone! Kit continued to sob.
+
+Clo's blood took fire. She flamed with courage. Having fixed upon her
+plan of action she darted into the passage and knocked on Kit's door.
+
+"Who's that?" came the sharp answer.
+
+"It's only me. The little girl from the next room," Clo explained in a
+small voice like a child's. Her hair hung over her shoulders, and she
+wore a cheap blue muslin dressing gown chosen by Violet.
+
+Kit threw open the door so suddenly, and stared so keenly through the
+dusk that Clo shrank back a little. "What do you want?" snapped Kit.
+
+"Oh, maybe I oughtn't to have come!" Clo apologized. "I heard you
+crying. And I'm so homesick and miserable myself! Don't be angry."
+
+Kit opened the door wide. Her bleached yellow hair bristled round her
+face.
+
+"I didn't know I was howling so loud. Say, can you hear us talkin', me
+and my husband? I hope we don't keep you awake nights."
+
+"You haven't kept me awake once," Clo assured her with truth. "Crying's
+easier to hear than talking. You see, I'm in trouble and I'm awfully
+lonely."
+
+"_I_ haven't got any real trouble," said Kit. "Me and my husband
+sometimes have a spat, like all married folks, and I'm fool enough to
+bawl. He's out now. Would you like me to come in and visit with you a
+while?"
+
+"I'd love it!" gasped Clo. She would have preferred an invitation to her
+neighbour's room, but she hoped for that later. Kit locked her door
+carefully and slipped the key down the neck of her dress. She accepted
+Clo's suggestion to sit on the bed, which was more comfortable than the
+one broken-backed chair. Question after question she put, which cost her
+hostess tiresome flights of imagination to answer. Clo was far from
+regretting her move, however. If Churn were absent long, or if he went
+out again, Kit said that she would return as an escape from boredom.
+
+It was eleven o'clock when once more Clo heard the two voices, and from
+their conversation Clo gathered that they did not expect Chuff back till
+the day after to-morrow.
+
+"Day after to-morrow!" echoed Kit. "Then we _must_ get Isaacs here
+to-morrow."
+
+"I t'ought of dat," said Churn. "I went up dere after I see Jake. Isaacs
+'as started for Chicago on business, and won't be back till the same day
+as Chuff, day after to-morrah."
+
+Clo drank in each word, and focussed her mind on its meaning. To-morrow,
+or the day after, her hour would come; then, or never.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+THE PATCH ON THE PILLOW
+
+
+Churn's excursion had justified itself, and the morning after his first
+absence he went out again. Toward noon Kit, in a "ready-to-wear" looking
+costume, knocked at Clo's door. "Thought you might want some candy," she
+said. "Shall I come in?"
+
+Clo was cordial, and tried to be entertaining. "If I can make her like
+me, perhaps she'll go down to a meal with Churn, and leave me on guard,"
+she reflected. Kit feared to stop long with her new friend lest Churn
+should arrive while she was "gadding." She dodged back and forth from
+room to room, and was at home to receive her husband in the afternoon.
+
+Next morning early Clo heard Churn announce that he would meet Isaacs'
+train at the Grand Central; the "old lady" had told him the time. Kit
+objected. "You might miss him. Best wait at his place," she advised. But
+Churn would not be persuaded. He had seen Jake again, who prophesied
+that Chuff would not arrive before the afternoon. They had the whole
+morning to see Isaacs and bargain with him, but it would be a waste of
+time to hang about at "Isaacs' place." Churn would catch Isaacs at the
+train, and bring him round to Kit. She must clear up the room, and have
+everything ship-shape in an hour. But Kit's anger grew as Churn
+insisted. "I know why you're mad to get to the Grand Central," she flung
+at him. "Didn't you s'pose I noticed the name on the candy box. Bah! I
+ain't a fool. You said you was sick of bein' boxed up with me. That put
+me wise."
+
+Churn protested innocence, and went off jauntily, but Clo looked for
+developments. "Kit's mum, to put Churn off the track," she thought. "But
+she means to follow him. She's bought no handbag. She can't very well
+take the pearls."
+
+Clo had read a paragraph concerning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Sands. It
+referred to the "house-warming party" they were giving at their "lately
+acquired cottage in Newport." Apparently the affair had been mentioned
+before in the column devoted to "Society" news, but Clo had missed it.
+The allusion to the "house-warming," and dinner dance set Clo's brain
+whirling. Angel would be expected by her husband to wear the queen's
+pearls. If he already guessed the secret, this might be a plan to force
+his wife's hand. Beverley feared him. Clo had seen that. Angel must have
+the pearls for to-morrow night. And they must be strung, ready to wear,
+or they would be useless to her, arriving at the last moment. The girl
+would have been at her wits' end, but for that quarrel next door. If Kit
+did go spying on Churn...!
+
+The door slammed after Churn. A second later Kit was knocking, calling
+her new friend by her new nickname: "Kid-Kid! Let me in, quick!"
+
+Clo let her in. Kit was pinning on a wide-brimmed hat, and had her hands
+full with a veil, gloves, and parasol. "Tie this veil for me, there's a
+good kid!" she panted. "I'm mad at my husband. He's off to flirt with a
+beast of a girl in a candy store. They had a mash before we married.
+You're goin' to be in all mornin', ain't you?"
+
+"I thought of running out to 'phone a friend of mine," said Clo,
+cleverly.
+
+"Don't! There's a 'phone in the house, the room under mine--room of a
+pal away till this afternoon. He left his key with Mrs. Mac, and she
+lent it to my husband last night so he could borrow some novels for me;
+our pal has lots. We've not given the key back, so when I come home I'll
+take you down. I want you to stay in while I'm gone. All you need do is
+to sit with your door open, and see if any one knocks at mine. And I've
+got the key. But it's the same as every old key; 'tain't a special one
+like Ch----like our pal's. If a stranger calls look close, so you can
+describe the person."
+
+"I undertake watchdogging in all its branches," said Clo. "Ta, ta!"
+
+"I count on you!" were Kit's last words at the top of the steps.
+
+"Bet your life you can!" the "kid" called after her. But as Kit ran
+downstairs, without stopping to look round, Clo dashed to her own open
+window. In a moment Kit's parasol went bobbing along the street. The
+coast was clear. Kit's manner made it certain that she had left the
+pearls behind.
+
+Violet would not come up for the two breakfast trays for a long time
+yet. Kit's opinion of the key was the same as that already formed by
+Clo, and the girl was wild to test it. She snatched her own key from its
+lock, to try it in Kit's door. It went in, but stopped at the critical
+turn. There were two more rooms on this floor; a small one opposite
+Clo's, tenanted by a young man who went to work at seven o'clock; and
+another still smaller, used as a storeroom--a refuge for trunks,
+dust-pans, and brooms. The early bird never locked his door, but his key
+fell short of success.
+
+The storeroom key remained. It did not fail. It turned all the way round
+in the lock, and Kit's door opened.
+
+Clo's was shut and locked, in case Violet should break her rule and come
+too soon.
+
+Not only did the girl expect to find the pearls, but Chuff's key, and
+she hoped to telephone if necessary, before making her "bolt." Wonderful
+that both these chances should fall together!
+
+Clo knew that the pearls were kept in a drawer; but Kit would not go out
+and leave them in so obvious a place. Nevertheless, Clo began by looking
+through the drawers, of which there were six.
+
+Churn's evening clothes hung from a hook on the wall; there was nothing
+in the pockets; nothing in the shoes which stood underneath except a
+pair of socks. Other hiding-place there was none, save the bed; and it
+was there that Clo expected to find the pearls.
+
+Kit had made the bed, and neatly patted the two ill-matched pillows into
+shape. Clo stripped off the unbleached covers of these pillows and
+looked for some sign that the ticking had been ripped open. There was a
+patch on the larger pillow. One end of this patch was unsewn and held in
+place with a pin. Underneath it something hard could be felt with the
+hand. Clo undid the pin, and thrusting in her hand pulled out a packet
+made of a red silk handkerchief tied round with gold string from a
+confectioner's. Clo squeezed the tight folds of silk. They held the
+pearls.
+
+It seemed a waste of time to open the handkerchief. She longed to run
+out of the house with her treasure, without a second's delay. Why search
+for Chuff's key? As she had found the pearls she did not need to 'phone.
+The girl was at the door, with her hand on the key, before she realized
+how mad it would be not to make certain of her find.
+
+Yes, the pearls were really there, the darlings! She re-wrapped the
+parcel, and again was at the door when another thought struck her.
+Better make the bed look as it had looked before. She returned, put the
+pillows back into their covers, stood them up in place, and during the
+process decided that she would spare a moment to search for Chuff's key.
+It might come in handy. Kit had let drop that the key was a special key.
+Clo guessed that at times there were things to hide, and then Chuff
+would forget to leave that key for his friends! "It might be useful to
+Mr. O'Reilly's Denham," she thought. "If I can find it quick----"
+
+And flitting about the room she pounced upon a key which answered Kit's
+description. It was on the mantelpiece--a small, flat key, of a
+"special" kind, because it was made for a Yale lock.
+
+She shut the door softly behind her, and locked it as she went out. The
+borrowed key she replaced in the storeroom. Then she unlocked her own
+door, and tearing off the blue wrapper, put on the tan-coloured linen
+suit Violet had bought in a sale, for five dollars. There was a tan
+straw hat, too (Clo dared not appear in the brown toque and coat
+described by the newspapers), and a cheap handbag purchased for the
+pearls in case she should get them. It was a tight fit for the red silk
+bundle, but she squeezed it in, and added the big pearl found in
+Peterson's room. She would also have tucked in the Yale key, but the bag
+refused to shut, and she kept the key in her hand. What money she had
+left, she slipped inside her blouse; everything else she abandoned. Kit
+would rage in vain when she looked for the red handkerchief parcel.
+
+"I can't have been half an hour," she thought, as she tripped past the
+breakfast trays and started downstairs. "Kit and Churn may be out a long
+while yet. I'd hate to come face to face with 'em in the street!"
+
+Less than half way down, she heard Violet's voice, and her nerves
+jumped. "On my way up for them trays o'yourn," the woman said.
+
+To whom was she speaking? Kit back already? Yes, Kit was answering her:
+"I'll run up ahead. I'm in a hurry."
+
+The voices sounded near. Clo felt that her blood was turning to water.
+Should she fly back and lock herself into her room? No, for Kit would
+discover her loss, and would guess what had happened. A fight for the
+pearls would be too uncertain, and Kit would call Mrs. Mac and Vi to the
+rescue, or Churn might come----But could she hope to pass safely if she
+went on? No, she had promised to guard the door. Kit would accuse and
+stop her if they met.
+
+In her anguish Clo's fingers closed upon Chuff's key. If only she could
+hide in Chuff's room before Kit reached his floor! She stumbled down the
+last few steps, and paused at the room under Kit's. Would the key fit?
+It went deep into the small keyhole, and turned. Kit must be close to
+the top of the stairs now.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+TRAPPED
+
+
+Trembling the girl locked herself into Chuff's room and went straight to
+the telephone. If O'Reilly were at home he would make a dash to the
+rescue. Her hand was on the receiver when she remembered that she was
+marooned. She was ignorant of the 'phone number and had never dared
+inquire the number of the house or street. Now, when it was too late,
+she wished with all her heart that she had slipped out late at night,
+while Kit and Churn slept, and thus found her bearings. She had not
+gone, because the pair always talked till after midnight, and the later
+the hour the more important their confidences. But surely she could not
+fall over this small stumbling block! The girl ran to a writing table
+and opened the blotting-book. It was old, thickly patterned with stains,
+but it contained not a single sheet of paper. She pulled out a drawer.
+There was writing paper in it, but unstamped. While she fumbled, hoping
+for an old envelope addressed to Chuff, the girl could hear the patter
+of feet overhead. Kit was in her own room walking about. Suddenly the
+boards ceased to creak. Kit had stopped. Was it at the bedside? Was she
+pulling the cover off the patched pillow?
+
+Clo had turned to a shelf crowded with books and magazines when a new
+idea came to her. She snatched up the blotter and held it open, in front
+of a mirror, over the mantelpiece. "Dear Peterson," she read, "Churn
+will take you this, and----"
+
+The line beneath mingled with others, and could not be disentangled, but
+the address of the house had been written above, and could be clearly
+read.
+
+With a sigh of thanksgiving Clo ran to the telephone, called up Central,
+and asked for the Dietz Hotel. Her voice could no doubt be heard in the
+hall outside, and might even reach Kit's ears upstairs. But the door
+must be broken before she could be torn from the 'phone, and at this
+hour, when all the men boarders were out there was no strong arm for
+such work. Meantime, O'Reilly might come. The girl longed for him with a
+new and desperate longing.
+
+The Dietz answered quickly. Mr. Justin O'Reilly was still staying in the
+hotel, but he had gone out. Tears started to Clo's eyes. She was trapped
+now, and must summon Beverley to get the pearls. She had not the Sands'
+'phone number, and must ask Central to call the Park Avenue apartment.
+When she had done this, silence fell. But it was only for a moment. Clo
+stood, with her ear at the receiver still, when a loud bang on the door
+made her jump as though she had been shot. The door knob turned.
+
+"You little devil!" shrilled Kit's voice. "You--thief! I know you're
+there. Wait till I catch you!"
+
+"Hello!" spoke a foreign-sounding voice through the 'phone--the voice of
+a woman. "Hello! Yes, this is Mrs. Sands' flat. Mr. and Mrs. Sands are
+not at home."
+
+"When will they be back?" asked Clo.
+
+"I don't know that," answered the cold voice of Anna Schultz. "It may be
+a long time."
+
+The girl had an instant of despair, but she was not yet beaten. As Kit
+pounded furiously on the door, Clo called up the jeweller where Ellen
+Blackburne was employed. Ellen had been in but gone out again; but, oh,
+she had just returned. She would step to the 'phone.
+
+A moment later Ellen's calm "Hello" seemed to travel to her from a
+far-distant, peaceful world.
+
+"This is Clo," replied the girl, conscious that voices outside the door
+ceased their clamour in order that ears might hear her message. "Yes, I
+said Clo! For God's sake get into a taxi and rush to the number and
+street I'm going to give you. Listen! Don't stop to ask questions. When
+you get here, you don't need to come in. I'll drop something out of the
+window. You can guess what. I'll expect you quick. Good-bye!"
+
+"I heard you!" shrieked Kit. "_I_ can guess, too! You've stolen my
+pearls, and you think you'll pass 'em on to some other thief. But you
+won't, you devil! We'll have this door down in five minutes."
+
+Clo went to the window, rolled up the blind, and raised the sash.
+
+"Why won't you let me call the police?" she heard Mrs. Mac asking. "I
+tell you it's the only thing. I----"
+
+"She won't let you do it because she stole the pearls herself," cried
+Clo, darting across the room to put her lips to the keyhole. "And that's
+not all she's afraid of."
+
+"I'll kill you when I get my hands round your throat," Kit screamed her
+down.
+
+"I won't be the first you've killed. Take care!" Clo retorted, and was
+then stung with regret for her boldness. There would be no mercy for her
+now from Kit or Churn when the door gave way. They would know that she'd
+been the woman at the telephone masquerading as Kit.
+
+But, if only Miss Blackburne came first, before they broke in, she
+didn't much care. With the pearls safe, she could fight for herself.
+
+"Hurrah, by all that's good, here's my Boy!" crowed Kit outside the
+door. "Churn! you've come! Mr. Isaacs, too! I was never so glad in my
+life to see any one as you both! There's a thief in Mr. Cheffinsky's
+room--the girl that's been living next door to us. She's stole my poor
+little string o' beads."
+
+Men's voices spoke. Churn and Isaacs were indeed there! The girl put her
+ear to the keyhole once more, and listened.
+
+"What did I tell you about dat key?" Churn caught her up. "You're ten
+kinds of a fool, girl. But de tief's dere all right, you say?"
+
+"Yes, she's there all right. She must have took Chuff's key off our
+mantelpiece. You left it there! The little brute's been 'phonin' some
+pal to come in a taxi so she can drop my pearls out the window."
+
+"Let me go down and talk things over with the pal when he comes," said
+another voice that was very smooth, and had a lisp. Clo deduced that it
+was the voice of Isaacs.
+
+"Yes, do go down!" The girl jeered him through the keyhole. "I'll call
+from the window what you are, a fence; that's your nickname. You're a
+receiver of stolen goods."
+
+For a few breathless moments there was no sound. Clo wondered if Ellen
+had started, and how soon the taxi might arrive. She went again to the
+window and looked out. There was no taxi in sight, no vehicle of any
+sort, but children playing, women chatting together. Clo wished that she
+might shriek at the top of her voice "Help!" "Thieves!" "Murder!" A
+policeman would surely come, and she and the pearls would be saved. But
+Beverley would be lost. The story of the pearls would come out somehow.
+As she gazed like Sister Anne from the tower, two things happened. In
+the house, a blow from a hammer made the door quiver; in the street a
+taxi came swinging into sight.
+
+"They'll have the door down!" Clo gasped. "But if only that's Ellen
+she'll be just in time."
+
+The bag containing the pearls in their red wrapping was in the girl's
+hand. She stood, prepared to throw it if Ellen appeared. The taxi was
+slowing down. Yes, it was stopping in front of the house. It must be
+Ellen--but no! A man stepped out, and glanced quickly in all directions.
+He did not look up at the window, where Clo had shrunk back as far as
+she could, not to lose sight of what went on below. He was furtively
+intent upon a gray limousine car, with several men in it, which had
+followed the taxi along the street. The motor passed on, however, and
+its occupants (there were four or five, Clo fancied) were busily
+talking. They did not look out, or interest themselves in the stopping
+of the taxi. The man who had come in the latter had the air of hiding
+behind it, as he paid the chauffeur and carefully counted his change;
+but the instant the limousine had slid ahead, regardless of him, he ran
+up the steps. Clo, at the window, could see him no more.
+
+"What if it's Chuff?" she thought, "and he finds them breaking down his
+door?"
+
+Somehow she had the impression that Cheffinsky was even more wicked than
+Churn, a man without scruples, a man who would stop at nothing for his
+own advantage.
+
+"Crack!" went one of the panels, and Clo, flying to the door, snatched
+the key from the keyhole. She knew the panel could not last many
+minutes, and a picture rose before her mind of a hand pushing through a
+hole, to turn the key in the lock. Anyhow, that should not happen!
+
+Back she fled to the window again, and stared anxiously out.
+
+Another taxi appeared. The gray limousine had turned, and was coming
+back, also. But Clo cared only for the taxi. It was slowing down. A
+woman thrust her head out and looked up--a neat little head in a black
+toque. "Miss Blackburne!" The girl cried shrilly. The taxi stopped. But
+the door stuck. Oh, why didn't the silly chauffeur jump off his seat and
+help?
+
+Crash! The panel broke with a loud shriek of rending wood. The hammer
+came through, and was jerked quickly out again. A man's hand seized a
+jagged piece of the panel and tore it away. An eye peered through the
+aperture, but Clo was at the window.
+
+"Quick--quick!" she implored, and brandished the bag far over the sill.
+
+The eye disappeared from the panel, and the muzzle of a revolver took
+its place.
+
+Miss Blackburne had jumped down on to the pavement.
+
+"If you throw out that bag, I fire," a voice warned Clo--a new voice,
+not Churn's.
+
+The girl glanced round involuntarily, and saw the small black object
+imbedded in the smashed door panel. Her nerves jerked, but she turned
+back to the window, with a sensation of ice in her spine.
+
+"String these and get them to _her_, if you have to take them to
+Newport!" she cried.
+
+There was a queer muffled explosion, not unlike the breaking of wood,
+yet somehow different. Clo felt a blow on the shoulder, and then a
+strange, heart-rending pain. She staggered, fell forward on to her
+knees, hanging over the window sill. But she threw the bag. A red light
+flamed in her eyes, not like the light of the summer day. Through the
+redness she thought she saw a little woman in black catch the bag and
+stand still, looking up. Clo tried to wave her hand, motioning "Go
+on--hurry!" and her lips formed the words. She was not sure whether the
+woman went, or whether she had been stopped at the taxi door by some men
+getting out of that gray limousine; the cloud of red had grown so thick.
+But there were noises behind her. The men in the hall had burst the door
+open. She could not look round again. Her head rested upon her arm,
+lying on the window sill. Then someone was dragging her away. It was all
+over for her in this world! But Beverley's pearls were saved.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+THE TIME LIMIT OF HOPE
+
+
+A big, blond man had hustled Mrs. Mac and Violet downstairs before the
+shot was fired. It was bewildering to them that Mr. Cheffinsky should
+come home after his strange absence with his beautiful golden beard and
+moustache shaved off.
+
+Cheffinsky was like an officer directing a defence. He took command
+instantly he entered the house, seeming to understand the situation
+without a question. "If any one rings, let Violet be a long time opening
+the door," he said. "But it must be opened. Don't act as if there was
+something to hide. Keep 'em talking, no matter who, or about what as
+long as you can. There's been a theft from a lady boarder, and a little
+excitement; you've only to tell the truth--see?"
+
+All this in a second; but it got the two women out of the way. The spy
+must be muzzled at any cost, for Cheffinsky guessed at a word from Kit
+that this was the mysterious girl of the telephone.
+
+"Pick her up," he said to Kit, when they had got the locked door open.
+"If any eyes are on that window, it won't look too queer for one girl to
+pull another back into the room."
+
+As the other two women had done, Kit obeyed. She was used to obeying
+Chuff in the past. She dragged Clo to the back of the room, out of sight
+from the window, and awaited further commands.
+
+"Now," Chuff said, "if we're spotted, this is a suicide--see? She stole
+your pearls, and when she was caught she killed herself."
+
+"But the shot's in her shoulder--and she ain't dead. She's opening her
+eyes," Kit objected.
+
+"She's got to be dead," Chuff decreed. "I know how to fix the bullet
+business. It'll have to be done now, because if trouble comes it will
+come quick. Look here; this is the thing to do, if there's questions to
+answer. You caught her stealing. She ran down to this room from yours,
+threw the stuff out of the window to a pal, and then grabbed my Browning
+from the mantelpiece. She'd have shot you, but seeing the men, knew the
+game was up, and did for herself instead. Shut the window, Kit. I'm
+going to put another ball into her, in the chest, just opposite the spot
+of blood on her back. Carry her into the closet, to cover the sound. I
+mustn't touch her myself. There's spots on you already. Account for them
+by saying you picked her up to see if she was alive."
+
+"But if she's in the closet----"
+
+"She ran there, and shot at you from inside the door, after we'd all
+broken into the room to get at her. Is that clear to you both? We must
+stick to the same story. Into the closet with her, Kit."
+
+Clo felt a strange sensation, as if her soul had left the body that hung
+limp in Kit's strong arms, and was gazing at it with impersonal pity.
+"The worst will be ended for me in a minute," she thought. Then,
+suddenly, she remembered Justin O'Reilly. A great desolation of
+loneliness swept over her. He would be sorry. But he was far away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Clo telephoned, Ellen Blackburne did not even know that the Sands
+were out of New York. The message, however, instantly awoke her sleeping
+interest. She guessed that Clo had tracked the thief, and that what she
+called the "weird address" given was the "lair." Miss Blackburne was no
+coward, and the astonishing request that came over the telephone wires
+did not frighten her. She prepared to follow instructions at once,
+taking only one precaution. Before starting, she left word that if she
+did not 'phone or return within an hour, inquiries were to be made at
+the house and in the street whose number she wrote down.
+
+The pearl-stringer did, therefore, precisely what she had been asked to
+do. She abandoned the work laid out for the morning, and dashed off in a
+taxi on a moment's notice. Clo's little face at the window of a
+tenth-rate boarding-house told her nothing new. Clo was always pale.
+When the girl dropped to her knees it looked to Ellen as if that
+attitude were more convenient for throwing down the bag. No sound of a
+pistol shot reached Ellen's ears over the noises of the street. She
+heard only the "teuf-teuf" of her own taxi, and the snort of a big gray
+car which had at that instant come to a stop close by. Miss Blackburne
+was used to odd adventures, and prided herself on "keeping cool," but
+she could not help giving an undignified jump as a man sprang out of the
+gray limousine and laid a hand on her arm.
+
+"What is in that bag and where are you taking it? I've a right to know,"
+he said sharply. "I'm a friend of Miss Riley."
+
+Ellen grabbed at the door of her taxi. The man was about thirty or
+thirty-two, she thought, certainly a gentleman and rather handsome. "I'm
+acting for Miss Riley," she returned as sharply. "My name's Blackburne.
+Clo's in a hurry for me to do an errand. If you're really her friend,
+you'd better let me get away while you look after her."
+
+The two eyed each other for an instant. "You are Miss Ellen Blackburne,
+the pearl-stringer?" the man inquired.
+
+"The same," she answered.
+
+"Then go on her errand!" he exclaimed. And while Ellen stared, he ran up
+the steps of the house where a companion had already rung the bell.
+Neither of the men looked again at her. Ellen waited for no more. To
+save delay and further suspense for Mrs. Sands she drove straight to the
+Park Avenue house, in order to string the pearls there: for she had
+hastily collected her materials before starting. It was a blow to hear
+from the hall porter that the Sands had already left New York; she
+decided on going up to get further information. She even thought of
+sending a long-distance message to Beverley from her own flat; but the
+grim personality of Anna Schultz banished this idea at a glance. Ellen
+realized that if she asked to enter the apartment she would be regarded
+as a suspicious character. Important business with Mrs. Sands would take
+her to Newport immediately, she told Miss Schultz. If there were any
+letter or parcel to be sent she would carry it.
+
+Anna's reply to this offer was a stiff refusal, but Miss Blackburne had
+not reached the lift when the woman came after her. "I've just
+remembered, there's a telegram for Mrs. Sands' French maid, you might
+give her by hand, if you're going to Newport to-day," she said, with a
+grudging air. "It will be quicker than posting." Anna Schultz slipped
+the envelope into Ellen's hand, and turned away without waiting for an
+answer.
+
+Having telephoned to the jewellers where she was employed, Ellen decided
+to string the pearls at home. She dared not dash off to Newport without
+seeing her mother, and arranging with a neighbour to stop in the house
+while she was gone. On second thoughts, she told herself that, for Mrs.
+Sands' own sake, it might be best not to risk a reassuring message of
+any sort in advance. Someone else might happen to receive it! She
+determined simply to work as fast as possible, and take the first train
+she could catch for Newport, with the restrung rope of pearls.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Beverley dreaded the night of the dance more even than she had dreaded
+her mission, nearly a year ago, in Albuquerque.
+
+It seemed very long since she had been radiantly happy in the thought of
+this glorified cottage at Newport--"Gulls' Rest"--Roger's present to
+her. She hated it now, and everything associated with it; the fuss of
+settling into the place, in a foolish hurry, though the Newport season
+had not yet begun: Roger's determination to begin with a house-party and
+a dance; his civil, quiet coldness to her; the strange look she caught
+in his eyes at times; the mystery of Clo's silence, which deepened day
+by day; fear of reprisals for loss of the papers; these things seemed
+harder to bear in Newport than at home in New York. Often Beverley
+wondered how long she would be sane.
+
+The Sands had brought with them a couple of friends: two others had
+joined them the day after, and half a dozen more had come since. Roger
+had engaged all the rooms in a small but delightful hotel for extra
+guests who would arrive for the dance and stay the night; and, in
+advance of the season as the house-warming was, word had gone out that
+the entertainment would be worth a long journey. The favours for the
+cotillon were said to have cost ten thousand dollars; and there was to
+be a "surprise" of some sort. Perhaps this was the reason why Mrs. Heron
+changed her mind, and John Heron wired to Roger that he and his wife
+would be pleased to come on from Narragansett, where they were spending
+a weekend for Heron's health.
+
+The invitation had been sent to the Herons by Roger's firmly expressed
+wish, but Beverley had not dreamed that it would be accepted. And, after
+all, they were both coming to the dance! This seemed ominous. It gave
+her one more fear for the dreaded night.
+
+Through the morning she still wildly hoped for news from Clo. Even as
+the afternoon wore on she did not utterly despair; but at six o'clock,
+when Roger advised her and the other women staying in the house to rest
+till dressing-time, she definitely gave up. For the first time since
+that Sunday night which marked the end of happiness, Roger slipped his
+hand under her arm in a friendly, familiar way.
+
+"Come along," he said. "I'll trot you up to your room and see that you
+lie down. I want you to look your best to-night; and you know dinner's
+at eight. You won't have more than an hour's nap. I suppose it'll take
+you at least an hour to dress?"
+
+"Just about," Beverley answered, dully. She knew that she could not
+sleep, but she was worn out with the effort of "keeping up" before her
+guests. She expected Roger to leave her at the door of her room, which
+he had entered only when the house was being shown to friends; but to
+her surprise, almost alarm, he followed her in. She said that she would
+not ring yet for Léontine. She would unfasten her own frock and find her
+own dressing-gown.
+
+"I'll draw the curtains for you," Roger suggested, in the coolly kind
+manner to which she had grown accustomed during the black fortnight.
+"One rests one's brain best in twilight, I think. I'm sure you need
+rest. I never saw you so pale. I hope you're not worried about
+to-night?"
+
+"Worried? Why should I be worried?" she echoed. "I'm sure everything
+will go well, aren't you?"
+
+"I hope so," he said, gravely. "You haven't shown me your new dress. I
+suppose it's come?"
+
+"Oh, yes," Beverley replied, convinced that it was not about the dress
+he thought or cared. "It came the day after we arrived."
+
+"Good! Then you'll be able to do full justice to the pearls!"
+
+Beverley had the impulse to throw herself into her husband's arms and
+upon his mercy; but she would not, or could not--she hardly knew which.
+It seemed to her that he was being purposely cruel, and was deliberately
+testing, torturing her, to see how much she could bear and not break.
+"Let him find out when the time comes," she thought, in sullen despair.
+Instead of confessing her trouble she asked if he would like to see her
+new gown.
+
+"No," Roger said. "I'll wait till you're ready and I can see you in your
+glory--pearls and all."
+
+Beverley merely smiled an answer, and wondered what Roger thought of her
+smile. He drew the curtain, and led her to rest, asking at the door that
+she would promise to call him when she was dressed. "I want to have a
+good look at you before you go downstairs," he added as he went out.
+
+Adjoining Beverley's bedroom was a small room whose wall appeared to be
+composed entirely of mirrors. It was a glorified wardrobe with mirror
+doors, and light and ventilation came from above. Behind the mirror
+doors were deep closets, some of which were lined with cedar, others
+with sandalwood; and at the back of one was an ingeniously concealed
+safe. In this safe Mrs. Roger Sands' jewels had already been placed, and
+among them was the empty case which had contained the queen's pearls.
+Beverley slid back the sandalwood panel, and opened the steel door
+behind it, which was manipulated by a miniature time-lock.
+
+"Suppose I wear diamonds and emeralds," she thought, "and tell Roger
+they match better with my dress than the pearls--that I'll wear the
+pearls another time?"
+
+But at the best this would only postpone the evil moment.
+
+She took off her dress of embroidered white organdie, and put on a _robe
+de chambre_. Then she dropped wearily down on a great, cushiony sofa,
+not to rest, but because she had nothing else to do.
+
+It was very still in her room, save for a far-off murmur of waves below
+the rocks. When she had remained thus for about three quarters of an
+hour she sprang up, her brain throbbing more feverishly, her body
+quivering more uncontrollably than when she had lain down. It was close
+upon seven o'clock, and she rang for Léontine. Her hair had to be done,
+and the whole process of dressing would need quite an hour.
+
+"I daresay Mary Stuart took a lot of pains dressing to have her head cut
+off," she thought bitterly.
+
+Léontine came, and made ready her mistress's bath. She emptied a bottle
+of eau de Cologne into the tepid water, but for once the refreshing
+scent failed to revive Beverley. She was like a creature in a dream as
+Léontine wound her long hair in bands round her head (a new fashion
+Roger had fallen in love with a few weeks ago), fastening it here and
+there with diamond pins. "Madame will be late if we are not careful,"
+the Frenchwoman said. "Everything takes so long to-night." She laid on
+the floor at Beverley's feet a cloud of silver gauze, supple as chiffon.
+It was the new dress and Madame must step into it to avoid ruffling her
+hair. Beverley obeyed, and when her arms had slid into the odd little
+jewelled sleeves, she let Léontine draw her gently in front of a mirror.
+
+"Madame is like a marvellous statue of ivory and silver," the maid
+exclaimed. "But she should have some colour. If Madame--but no, it is
+too late. There is a knock. It will be Monsieur. Shall I open the door?"
+
+"Yes, open the door," Beverley echoed. Her voice sounded metallic and
+unnatural in her own ears.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+"WE DO THINGS QUICKLY OVER HERE"
+
+
+"Is this heaven?" Clo wondered.
+
+"No, you darling, it's not. It's our same poor old world; but it'll be
+near heaven if you'll get well and live for me," said Justin O'Reilly.
+Then it seemed to the girl that she heard a very odd, choking sound, and
+on to her half-parted lips fell a drop of something hot. She tasted
+this, and found it salt.
+
+"You--you can't be crying?" she mumbled.
+
+"I am." O'Reilly answered, "crying with joy. I don't remember doing it
+before--in joy or sorrow. Here goes another tear! Sorry! I couldn't help
+spilling it on you. Shan't happen again."
+
+O'Reilly's face was close to hers. She smiled up at him. Everything
+seemed strange except that he should call her darling. That, somehow,
+was not strange at all. Nor was it strange that his head should be bent
+over her upturned face. Yet he said it was the same poor old world!
+
+"I thought I was dead," she explained.
+
+"I thought so, too, for a minute, and it was the worst minute and the
+worst thought I ever had. But you're alive. And you're going to live. I
+tell you that on the doctor's authority. He and the nurse are having a
+confab in the next room. In fact, when we saw you coming to all right,
+after the anæsthetic (a bullet had to come out of your poor little
+shoulder!) I asked them to leave me alone with you. I wanted to be the
+first one your eyes saw. You're going to live for me, aren't you?
+Because I adore you, you know!"
+
+"I know," the girl echoed, floating on a strange, bright wave of joy.
+
+"You know I adore you?"
+
+"Something told me it would come out like that," she said. "In those
+long days when I had to lie still in my room and listen to Kit and
+Churn, another voice--so different from theirs!--seemed to say it in my
+ear. Your message for me in the newspaper--I was sure it was for me--put
+it into my head. I couldn't answer. But the message was the greatest
+comfort! I didn't feel alone after that."
+
+"Precious one! You're a star heroine, and a martyr and a saint, and I
+don't know what not. But most of all, you are my life--my very life.
+I've had a big disappointment since I parted from you--lost a thing I'd
+wanted for years--lost it to Roger Sands. His revenge for--I hardly know
+what! Yet finding you and holding you like this shows me that nothing
+else matters. What's a house, anyhow, except this darling house not made
+with hands--your little body, house of your soul? When you know me
+better, could you learn to love me, do you think, if I try hard to teach
+you?"
+
+"Oh, but I do love you already," said Clo, as a matter of course. "Even
+that first night--there was something about you--I hated to cheat and
+rob you the way I did. And it was wonderful hearing your voice in the
+telephone, in Peterson's dreadful room. It wasn't only that I hoped
+you'd help, it was because it was you--because you were different for me
+from anybody else, different even from Angel."
+
+"Good Lord, I should hope so!"
+
+"And I've wanted you dreadfully ever since. That's why I thought it must
+be heaven when I woke up just now and saw you."
+
+"You angel!"
+
+"How funny you should call me that. Oh, I've almost forgotten my poor
+Angel! I must get to her, somehow." Clo looked around hastily, and
+realized that she was lying on a bed in a peculiarly unattractive room,
+and that O'Reilly was kneeling on the floor by the bedside. "How wicked
+of me to think more about you than her!"
+
+"If you mean Mrs. Sands, you shall go to her when you're able. Mrs.
+Sands is all right. You sent her something rather important by Miss
+Blackburne, the pearl-stringer that you told me about that night in the
+taxi--and in Krantz's Keller. I talked to the woman--and cursed myself
+afterward for stopping to speak, when I found you and saw how every
+instant had counted. I oughtn't to have waited even for a second."
+
+"Oh, you couldn't have saved me if you'd come up without speaking to
+Ellen. The shot was fired before I threw out the bag with the pearls,"
+Clo broke in. "I remember now. Someone fired through the hole in the
+door. It was Chuff, I'm sure. It didn't hurt much. It was like a heavy
+blow, and I couldn't help dropping on my knees at the window. I felt
+weak and queer, but I called to Ellen. Then somebody picked me up--Kit,
+I think. I could hear them arguing what to do with me. Funny! I thought
+of you then--and that's the last I remember till now."
+
+"I must have been in the house by that time," O'Reilly soothed her. "I
+had come for you! I was sure you'd be where Kit was, because of the
+pearls. Denham and I had been trying to track Churn and Kit and
+Chuff--all the lot you told me about--ever since you turned me down, in
+Krantz's Keller."
+
+"I didn't turn you down!"
+
+"No, I don't mean that! You were a brave little soldier going into
+battle on your own."
+
+"A soldier? No, I was only a mouse."
+
+"I know. 'The lion's mouse.' And to gnaw the net the lion was caught in,
+you had to stick your head into another lion's den. But some memoranda
+you'd picked up and left for us put Denham on the right trail. He
+doesn't need much of a pointer, that chap! He fairly jumped on to the
+track of a fellow named Isaacs--at least Isaacs is his 'alias'--a man
+who's been suspected for a long time as a receiver of stolen goods--a
+fence. When I got the tip that Kit and Churn were staying in the house
+where we were to spot Chuff, I was sure I had the clue to you. I wish to
+God we'd been five minutes earlier; but I thank Him we weren't five
+minutes too late! If the police eventually bring the crime home to Kit
+(that's improbable, Denham thinks) there's nothing to link up the story
+with the name of Mrs. Sands."
+
+"Oh, I'm not sure!" breathed Clo. "Kit knows about her. She told Churn."
+
+"She won't tell any one else, you may depend on that. If she's accused
+of the murder, she won't confess to stealing somebody's pearls as her
+motive. She'll say that Peterson insulted her, and she feared him; some
+sob-sister stuff of that sort."
+
+"She did complain to Churn that Pete was horrible to her, and that if
+Churn had been there to hear what he said, he'd have killed him quick,"
+Clo remembered.
+
+"You see, she wanted to clear herself in the eyes of her best young man!
+How much more anxious she'd be to keep on the same line if it came to
+saving herself from the Chair! You can make your mind easy about your
+friend Mrs. Sands. I won't say a word against her. You love her. You may
+be right, I may be wrong. I'm growing humble. I don't set my judgment
+against yours, even though I know some things about the lady which it's
+probable you don't know. But she's been good to you. That makes all the
+difference to me. She's to be saved from the consequences of things
+which--you'll never hear from my lips. Saved she shall be if it depends
+at all on yours ever. But you've done so much that little more remains."
+
+"Then you'll give her the papers?"
+
+"The papers you returned to me that Sunday night?"
+
+"It wasn't I who returned them. I don't know who did send them. It's the
+greatest mystery! But if you love me, you'll hand them back."
+
+O'Reilly looked grave. "I love you," he said, "more than I ever thought
+it was in me to love, though I had an idea it might go hard with me when
+my time came. But I gave the papers to Heron, whose property they
+were--and are. I was only keeping them for him because he had reason to
+think they weren't safe in his possession."
+
+"John Heron!" Clo echoed. A thought had suddenly started out from the
+background of her mind, pushing in front of her fears for Beverley.
+"Yes, of course, he's a friend of yours! But he's in worse danger than
+his papers ever were. From things they said, I believe Pete came East on
+purpose to kill him. Of course, there were the papers to get as well.
+But he wanted to kill John Heron. It was Chuff who ordered him to get
+the papers. Pete had some grudge of his own against Mr. Heron, so he
+made a good catspaw. When Pete was killed, Chuff had to find someone
+else to do the job. I don't know John Heron, and never saw him in my
+life, so I----"
+
+"There you're mistaken," O'Reilly broke in. "Did you notice any one
+coming out of a room next to my suite when you were letting yourself in
+with my key which you had--er--found?"
+
+"Yes!" cried Clo. "A beautiful woman in a black dress with gorgeous
+jewellery; and a tall man with reddish hair and beard and--Oh, eyes!
+Great dark eyes that looked at me in a strange way. I felt them in my
+spine."
+
+"That was the first time you saw John Heron, the man his enemies still
+call the Oil Trust King--though thanks to Roger Sands they daren't call
+him that out aloud. The second time must have been in Heron's own room.
+But you shall judge for yourself. He'd been downstairs with his wife. He
+went up to his rooms again for something, and in the hall outside his
+own door--which he'd just unlocked--he fell down in a sort of fainting
+fit. Well, putting two and two together, after you told me your
+adventure creeping along the ledge from my window to his, it occurred to
+me that there'd been just cause for the seizure. I didn't think Heron
+was the man to keel over in a faint, even for a thing like that. All the
+same, seeing that ghostly vision would account for his attack."
+
+"I understand," said Clo. "I saw he was flabbergasted. But that first
+time at the door, when he was with his wife, he didn't look at me as if
+I were a stranger. It was as if he knew me, and almost fell over himself
+to see me again. That was the feeling I had, but I was--a little
+excited."
+
+"Most girls would have been corpses!"
+
+"I felt like a live coal. But we mustn't let the gang make a corpse of
+Mr. Heron, must we? Let's warn him. Where are we, anyhow?"
+
+"Same house you were in. Doctor said it wouldn't be safe to move you. We
+disinfected the best we could in a hurry, and he extracted the bullet
+from your poor little shoulder. Thank God, I was in time, or there might
+have been another bullet or two, that couldn't be extracted! You're all
+right now, or will be with a little rest, and we'll get you into a
+nursing home. As for Heron, he and his wife have gone to Narragansett.
+That's close to Newport, you know, where Mrs. Sands is."
+
+"Angel in Newport already! Then the pearls--but I told Ellen Blackburne
+to take them there if she had to. Do you think she will?"
+
+"Sure! She'll catch the first train."
+
+"No. She won't do that. She thinks of her mother before everything. But
+the ball's not till to-morrow. Angel won't need the pearls till then.
+Oh, if I could be sure she'll get them! I can't rest till I'm sure. I
+must go to Newport. I must."
+
+"When you're strong enough."
+
+"I'm strong enough now. Is it late?"
+
+"Getting on toward evening. You were a long time coming to yourself.
+Presently the doctor will say whether you can be moved to-night to that
+nursing home."
+
+"If I can be moved to a nursing home I can be moved to Newport. Tell the
+doctor I shall burst if I can't go."
+
+"You may tell him yourself."
+
+"I _must_ go. I must know if all goes right with the pearls. I must know
+if it's better or worse for Angel that Stephen's dead."
+
+"Stephen's dead!"
+
+"Yes. Did you know him?"
+
+"I know of him. He is----"
+
+"Don't tell me. She mightn't want me to hear. I haven't heard anything
+except that Kit and Churn talked about his having died, and said Angel
+had been cheated."
+
+"By Jove, I begin to see light."
+
+"Now you see why I must go to her? And you've forgotten maybe what I
+told you about Mr. Heron. If he's near Newport, I----"
+
+"Look here, darling, if the doctor says you can be taken there
+to-morrow--oh, in time to arrive before the famous ball--let's say in a
+comfortable motor car, travelling slowly, banked up on cushions, will
+you go as my wife?"
+
+Clo stared as if O'Reilly had broken into some strange language which he
+expected her to understand. "Your wife?"
+
+"Well--don't you expect to marry me? That's what happens when a girl and
+a man love each other."
+
+"Oh--some day--if you're sure you really want an ignorant little girl
+like me, brought up in an orphan asylum, who's worked in a shop and
+hasn't a penny in the world--except a dollar or two left of Mrs. Sands'
+money. A long time from now, when you've thought about it----"
+
+"I've thought of nothing else since we met and parted, and I realized
+that you were my life and soul. If you can make up your mind to 'some
+day,' it might just as well be to-morrow. Don't you want to console me
+for the loss of the only other thing, besides you, I've ever wanted with
+all my heart? You do if you love me. The dear old house that was my
+father's! You know, when you sent up your name at the Dietz as Miss
+O'Reilly, I believed you were my cranky cousin Theresa, come to tell me
+she'd changed her mind about selling the house. Why, you owe it to me,
+if you care, to make up for that. Your Angel's husband has bribed
+Theresa to sell to him. The place has passed away from me forever. But
+if you'll marry me to-night I shan't care. In the joy of being
+husband--and nurse--to the bravest and dearest mouse in the world I'll
+forget everything and be the happiest man on God's earth."
+
+"People don't get married at a few hours' notice."
+
+"Don't they? How long have you lived in the United States, my Irish
+colleen?"
+
+"Months. Over a year. But I never discussed marriage."
+
+"I'm jolly glad you didn't. But you'll hear of nothing else till the
+knot's tied. We do things quickly over here."
+
+Then the door opened, and the doctor came in.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+THE TELEGRAM
+
+
+Roger Sands had hardly known himself for many days. His wife had read
+him aright. At times he was purposely cruel. At times he did wish to see
+how much she could bear and not break. Yet if she had broken, he felt
+that he could not have helped seizing her in his arms and forgiving her.
+
+While he dressed that night he hoped that she would send for him, or
+come to him, and confess that the pearls were gone, that she had given
+them to O'Reilly, whom she had once loved, and whom she loved no more.
+
+But she neither sent nor came. She was bluffing it out to the last. He
+might have known she would do that, although he had taken her to her
+room to give her one more chance to repent. At half-past seven he was
+ready, but he waited quietly ten minutes. Then he went to his door,
+meaning--as he said to himself roughly--to "get the thing over." But he
+paused with his hand on the knob. He thought that he heard a woman's
+voice saying: "May I come in?"
+
+His muttered comment upon one of his and Beverley's guests, whom he
+supposed the intruder to be, was far from flattering. Perhaps, however,
+it would be well not to find his wife alone. He would give Beverley a
+few minutes more, to be sure that her dress was on, before he went to
+interrupt the chorus of mutual admiration; but no woman's presence
+should prevent him from asking the question he meant to ask--"Where are
+your pearls?"
+
+At exactly eight minutes to eight Roger ceased his restless tramp up and
+down the room, and stopped again at the door. Before he could open it,
+however, there was a light tap--a tap like Beverley's in happier days.
+"Can she mean, after all, to tell me the truth?" he wondered; and he
+heard his voice saying mechanically, "Come in."
+
+Beverley came in; Roger's room was full of light, and as his wife
+entered she faced it. She glittered from head to foot like an ice maiden
+under a blazing sun. She wore a wreath of diamond roses; round her waist
+was a girdle of diamonds with long tasselled ends; on her white satin
+shoes were diamond buckles; and over her bare, white neck, her young
+gauze-enfolded bosom, hung the rope of the queen's pearls.
+
+"I thought you were coming in to see me dressed?" she said calmly. "Did
+you forget?"
+
+For answer Roger stared. He stepped back into the room, and let Beverley
+shut the door. She stood before him smiling, though, if he had analyzed
+her smile, he would have said that it was sad. "How do you think I
+look?" she asked, when he did not speak. "I hope you're not
+disappointed?"
+
+"You have had those pearls copied!" he flung at her.
+
+Beverley blushed bright crimson. She understood instantly what he meant
+and thought, but she had not gone through tortures and been relieved at
+the last moment to be beaten down now.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes steady, her head up.
+
+"You thought I didn't know. But I have known from the first. I found out
+by accident. I always hoped you'd some day tell me the truth. This is a
+cowardly thing you've done."
+
+Beverley was again ivory pale. "Are you a judge of pearls, Roger?" she
+coldly inquired.
+
+"Yes," he said.
+
+She lifted the rope over her head and thrust it, against his will, into
+his hands. "Make any test you wish, and decide whether these are the
+pearls you gave me or an imitation."
+
+Hardly knowing what he did, he walked to a table, on which stood a tall
+lamp that gave a brilliant light. Beverley watched him. There was no
+emotion whatever on her face. After a moment he spoke: "These are
+genuine pearls," he admitted, after a heavy silence. "And I have reason
+to believe from certain marks that they are the pearls I bought for you,
+the queen's pearls. If you give me your word, that since I put them into
+your hands you did not part with them to Justin O'Reilly, as I have
+believed, I will beg your forgiveness on the knees of my soul. I will
+confess to you--as I once expected you to confess to me."
+
+"Hush! There's someone at the door!" Beverley cut him short.
+
+It was Léontine who knocked, and paused on the threshold. "Will Madame
+have the kindness to step into the hall," she asked. As her mistress
+moved toward her, she retired, and it was not until they both stood at
+some distance from the door that the Frenchwoman spoke.
+
+"I beg Madame's pardon for disturbing her," she apologized, "but I dare
+not delay. The lady, Mees Blackburne, if that is her name, was about to
+start back to town, but remembered a commission she had been given at
+the apartment; to bring a telegram for me. I opened it, to find that for
+me there is no sense. I know no Stephen; but----"
+
+"Stephen!" Beverley gasped the name, and snatched from the woman's hand
+an open telegram she held. She read it, and then without a word or cry,
+collapsed in a dead faint. With a shriek of fear Léontine tried to catch
+the swaying figure; but the best she could do was to break the fall.
+When Roger reached the door it was to find Beverley in a white heap on
+the floor with the Frenchwoman kneeling by her side. He caught his wife
+up, and, carrying her back into his room, laid her on the bed.
+
+"Let everybody be told that dinner will be delayed half an hour," he
+said, and shut the door in Léontine's face. She snatched the dropped
+telegram and whisked off to obey the master's command.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+WHO IS STEPHEN?
+
+
+As Roger stood looking down at Beverley she opened her eyes.
+
+"Stephen is dead!" she muttered. "Stephen--is dead."
+
+"Who is Stephen?" Roger asked shortly.
+
+"Oh, Roger!" she appealed to him, breaking into sobs. "My poor Stephen!
+I shall never see him again. All my sacrifices--in vain!"
+
+"Who is Stephen?" Roger repeated.
+
+She held up her arms, without answering his questions. "Roger--comfort
+me!" she wept.
+
+And for all his life, no matter how many years he may live, Roger Sands
+will be glad that he did not hold back from Beverley then. Without
+another word he clasped her tightly, while she cried against his cheek.
+Both had forgotten that there were guests, that this was the "big night"
+which all the newspapers were talking about; that already dinner was
+late, and people wondering; that the "ball" was to begin at ten-thirty,
+and that the Russian dancers who were to open it, as the great
+"surprise," would soon be in the house.
+
+When Beverley had sobbed until exhaustion came, she spoke, in a tiny
+voice, like that of a tired little girl: "Because Stephen is--safe, I
+can tell you everything now. Will you listen, Roger, until the end,
+whether you can forgive me or no?"
+
+"Yes," Roger answered. "But just this before you begin! I love you so
+much, Beverley, that if there's something to forgive it's forgiven
+already."
+
+"Stephen was my brother," she said, "the one person who belonged to me
+after father died. Mother I don't remember. She came of a high Russian
+family who were sent to Siberia as political prisoners. She was only
+sixteen, and father saved her by making her his wife. I was named 'Olga'
+after her. But for that dreadful journey from Albuquerque I had to have
+some name that wouldn't give me away when my ticket was bought. Stephen
+and I were called Bevan, because father used that name for his business
+in Russia, but his own name was Beverley. For travelling that day I was
+'Miss B. White.' Once I'd told you I was Beverley, I had always to be
+Beverley for you.
+
+"Stephen--or Stephan, his Russian name--and I, were born in Russia,
+where father superintended an immense tract of oil wells for Mr. Heron.
+When my father was killed in an explosion (I was fourteen and Stephen
+twelve) Mr. Heron felt it his duty to look after our future. He had just
+married at that time. You must know Mrs. Heron well enough to understand
+that she wouldn't like to have two half-grown-up children thrust upon
+her. Why, she used to be jealous even of her husband's first wife, an
+Irish girl, who died years and years ago, in Ireland! It seems Mr. Heron
+hadn't told her about his old love story. She came across a picture of
+him taken with the girl, and some letters from people Mr. Heron had
+employed to search for his wife, whom he had quarrelled with and left. I
+was staying at their house when Dolores discovered the photograph and
+letters. She rushed into the room where I was with Mr. Heron. He had to
+seize her hands to keep her from tearing the picture in pieces; and he
+held them while he told her his sad story. He'd been visiting Ireland,
+it seemed, years before, and met a girl, very poor but very lovely, and
+married her when they'd known each other a few weeks. It seemed the girl
+had been engaged to someone else; and that someone took a cruel revenge
+on Heron. By a plot which he confessed afterward when it was too late,
+he made it appear that the girl had been his mistress. The evidence was
+so strong Heron could hardly help believing, so he came back to America
+and tried to forget. Years after the other man, dying of typhoid,
+confessed to a priest that he had lied, and forged letters. The priest
+wrote to Heron. But the poor, deserted girl was dead, and all that Heron
+could learn when he dashed back to Ireland to find her was that a baby
+girl had been born a few months after he left his wife. He tried for
+years to trace the child, but could not. And it was only after he'd
+given up all hope that he married Dolores Moreno. I think Mr. Heron felt
+tender over us children because of his lost little one. After leaving us
+in Russia at school for a while, and a year in England, to learn the
+language better than we knew it, another year in France and another in
+Italy (in families whom he paid to educate and take care of us) he must
+have had a longing to see what we were like. He and Dolores, his wife,
+came abroad, and brought us back to America with them, much against
+Dolores' will, I know. I was nearly eighteen, and I realized the first
+minute we met that Dolores was going to hate me. We went straight to a
+house near Albuquerque, which belongs to Mrs. Heron. Her brother Louis
+always lived there. He was an invalid, you know; about a year younger
+than Dolores; something wrong with his heart, and almost a
+hunchback--but oh, what a handsome face! When he took a violent fancy to
+me her one thought was to get me out of his way. Louis had money of his
+own. He was rich, and I suppose Dolores was afraid I might try to marry
+him, as I hadn't a penny. It was bad enough for her that Mr. Heron
+should have a tenderness for me, because of his lost child; but that
+Louis should love me was more than she could stand. I was sent to a
+boarding-school, and when I was twenty I began to teach. Dolores didn't
+like Stephen, either. She grudged every penny her husband spent for us.
+
+"Mr. Heron used his influence, and got Stephen work in Los Angeles as a
+reporter on a newspaper, when he was only eighteen. He was tall and
+handsome, and could pass for two years older at least. I was very
+unhappy at this time, for I'd begun to worry about Stephen. I was sure
+he was keeping some secret from me. But I found out nothing till the
+crash came. Oh, Roger, it was horrible. He'd fallen under the influence
+of those anarchists--those dynamiters, who had been terrorizing all
+America for years. They'd persuaded him that they were noble reformers.
+Poor Stephen was a useful tool. He never did any of the dynamiting with
+his own hands, but he used to make bombs, and carry them from place to
+place, and take letters it wasn't thought safe to send through the post.
+It was the blowing-up of the _Times_ buildings in Los Angeles and all
+those innocent men being killed that sickened him, he confessed
+afterward, when at last he opened his heart to me. But he was too deep
+in to free himself. It's now two years ago that the break happened, and
+all our life collapsed--Stephen's and mine.
+
+"Some of the old lot he'd worked with were left--men who had managed to
+keep clear and never be suspected when William Burns, the detective, was
+fighting the Macnamaras and their gang. Only one or two who'd been under
+suspicion wriggled out from Burns' clutches. A man named Carl Schmelzer
+was the cleverest. He went abroad, and was supposed to die in Germany.
+But he didn't die. By that time they were engaged in new enterprises, as
+the old ones were too risky; but they always pretended to be working for
+Labour against Capital. John Heron was their target two years ago. The
+war cry was that he was the master, a tyrant, a plutocrat, ruthlessly
+crushing the weak. The Comrades knew our history--Stephen's and
+mine--and they tried to inflame Stephen against Mr. Heron because he'd
+failed to do for us what our father's services and death merited. But
+they made a big mistake when they ordered my brother to dynamite a
+railway bridge, just as a train with Heron's private car was due to pass
+over it. He refused, and threatened to warn Heron unless they abandoned
+all their schemes against him. That gave the gang a fearful fright. They
+thought their one chance of safety was to suppress Stephen. A friend of
+his who lived at Home Colony warned him that there was a plot to kill
+him. He came straight to me and told me the whole story. Neither of us
+had much hope. We thought the Comrades were sure to get him in the end.
+Then a wonderful thing happened. The train Stephen took, after his visit
+to me, was wrecked. Everybody in the car with Stephen was killed except
+himself. An idea came to Stephen. He put a silver cigarette-case with
+his name on it into the pocket of a man burnt past recognition--a man of
+about his own size. Then he crept away and hid for many days. When he
+hoped it might be fairly safe, he wrote to me, knowing I mourned for him
+as dead. He asked if I'd risk going with him to Russia to begin a new
+life there under another name. Of course I said 'Yes.'
+
+"I left the school, and some jewellery I had kept us going for a while
+till there was a ship we could take for Japan, and so get back to
+Russia. We'd have to sail from San Francisco, so presently we went to
+Oakland, travelling at night by local trains. We hoped in that way we
+should not be seen by any one we knew.
+
+"Whether someone did see us or not, I can't tell. Anyhow, from the day
+Stephen left me to buy our cabins on the ship I've never seen him again.
+He was kidnapped by the gang; and then began my martyrdom. They gave me
+a week of suspense. Then I got a letter. It told me that Stephen had
+been caught and would be punished by death for his treachery unless I'd
+agree to buy his life. I was warned that if I went to the police, it
+would be known to them, and Stephen instantly killed. If I consented to
+bargain I must put a 'personal' in a San Francisco paper, saying
+'Steve's sister says yes'; in that case an appointment would be made
+with a man who would tell me what to do to save Stephen.
+
+"Of course, I obeyed. Next day the same paper told 'Steve's Sister'
+where to go for instructions, and at what time. I think the man who met
+me must have been Schmelzer himself, just back from Europe. He had the
+authoritative manner Stephen had spoken of, and a great deal of gesture.
+He didn't give himself any name then, but afterward I knew him as
+Cheffinsky. To save my brother I had only to get a bundle of papers
+which were in the possession of John Heron. They were at Albuquerque in
+Mrs. Heron's house. Heron kept them there because he believed no one
+would suspect; but a spy the 'Comrades' had hired to act as a gardener
+there overheard a conversation, and knew the hiding-place. Unfortunately
+he couldn't put his hand on the papers without killing a man to get at
+them. For me, it would be simple, because Louis Moreno was in love with
+me. Louis had charge of the papers, and would let me see them if I
+treated him the right way. How Cheffinsky found out about Louis and me I
+never heard; perhaps from Stephen. I was given a day to think the matter
+over. Then there was to be another meeting in the same place. When I
+went to the rendezvous for the second time--it was in a park--I hadn't
+made up my mind. But, oh, Roger, the wretch showed me a snapshot of
+Stephen in a room, with a rope round his neck, standing on tiptoe. The
+rope was fastened to a ring in the ceiling, where a chandelier had been.
+If Stephen had dropped from fatigue he would have choked to death. 'Six
+hours a day of this medicine,' Cheffinsky said, 'till you've handed us
+the papers we want.'
+
+"I promised to go to Albuquerque and get them. What the papers were I
+wasn't told. Afterward I heard more about them--from Louis himself. The
+day of the second meeting in the park I was given directions what to do,
+but they were changed in a hurry. The Comrades got warning to 'clear
+out' and go East as quick as they could. A telegram reached me only a
+few hours before I was to start for Albuquerque. It said, 'Delay
+journey. Writing,' and a letter came the same night to the quiet little
+boarding-house where I stayed. My brother had been taken East, where I
+should meet him when I handed over the papers. I was told what train to
+take to Albuquerque, and what train to leave in: the Santa Fé Limited. I
+was to find reservations on board for 'Miss B. White.' At Chicago I was
+to get out of the train and find a man waiting for me. You know all
+about that, and what happened. There was money in the letter of
+instructions, enough to see me through to Chicago, otherwise I couldn't
+have started. What I had was almost all gone. Oh, I can hardly bear to
+think of that day, and what I went through--before I met _you_."
+
+"Don't think of it--don't go on if you'd rather not," Roger begged.
+
+But Beverley wished to go on.
+
+"There was one thing the Comrades hadn't calculated upon," she said,
+"and that was that the Herons would be at Albuquerque. When the plan was
+made the Herons were at Los Angeles, and expecting to stay there. You
+must have been with them--just after the great case was decided in John
+Heron's favour--thanks to you! But Louis had been seized with one of his
+heart attacks--he had angina pectoris--and had wired for his sister.
+Dolores didn't wish to travel without her husband, so both decided to
+go. As for Justin O'Reilly, it was at Albuquerque I first saw him. It
+came out that he was taking a short holiday in California, and I heard
+talk about his visiting some place where he and his father had lived. I
+had the impression of his being a California man. Mr. Heron had helped
+O'Reilly to get into Congress. They weren't intimate, though I believe
+they're distantly related, but Mr. Heron wanted to see him before he
+went East, and wired for O'Reilly to meet them at Albuquerque. When I
+arrived, expecting to find only Louis in the house, they were all there.
+
+"It was a shock and a blow to me to see the Herons. I'd meant to lie,
+and tell Louis I'd come to him because I'd changed my mind, and liked
+him better than I thought. But to account for my sudden appearance,
+uninvited, to Dolores, who hated me, was another matter.
+
+"She and her husband supposed I was living quietly at school, mourning
+for my dead brother. I had to make up a story quickly. I said that I'd
+lost my position, and hoped they would put me up at Albuquerque until I
+could get another. They couldn't turn me out that night. And Louis was
+fairly well again by that time. He was very glad to see me. I made the
+most of his welcome--for Stephen's sake. You see, I _had_ to succeed! I
+wrote a note, and slipped it into Louis' hand. In it I hinted that I had
+something very particular to say to him. He must go to his own rooms as
+soon as he could--he had a whole suite to himself which he could shut
+off from the rest of the house. It was on the ground floor. I said I
+would go to him there.
+
+"Now comes the most terrible part of my story. Roger, you may hate me
+when you've heard the rest! I went to Louis' room. He let me in. I told
+him that I had changed my mind. I would marry him if he wanted me to,
+but only on one condition. I said I'd heard from friends of Stephen's
+that Mr. Heron was keeping documents which concerned our dead father;
+that they were with other private papers, in the Albuquerque house, and
+in Louis' charge. If he would give the whole bundle to me to look over,
+and choose what I wished to take away, I'd be his wife whenever he
+wanted me.
+
+"He tried to seize me in his arms, but I threatened to go away at once
+unless he kept quiet, and did as I told him. There was a packet of
+papers, he admitted, but he vowed to me that they were only business
+papers. They were compromising to John Heron, and would do him immense
+harm--worse than ever, now that he'd just come successfully through the
+courts--if they passed into enemy hands. I insisted that there must be
+something about my father. There could be no mistake, and unless Louis
+would let me look, I'd never marry him. He still objected, arguing that
+all the things were in one envelope, sealed with three seals, which must
+not be broken, or his sister and her husband would never forgive him.
+
+"He went to his desk--we were in his sitting-room--and showed me a
+secret drawer between two other drawers. He took out an envelope--you've
+seen it. 'I'll try to cut off the seals with a sharp knife,' he said,
+'and I can stick them on again. While he spoke, he began looking for the
+knife he wanted, and I snatched at the envelope. But his fingers closed
+down on it. He laughed in my face. 'So that's your game!' he said. 'I'm
+not so soft as you thought!' But I struggled with him. I was strong; he
+was an invalid. He'd just been ill. When he realized that I was more
+than his match, his face looked like a devil's. I shall never forget it.
+'You'll pay for this!' he screamed at the top of his voice--an awful
+scream--'Help! murder!'
+
+"Overhead was what they called the living room. I knew he would be
+heard; people would come. I wrenched the envelope from him, and ran for
+the window. I dared not go to the door; I should meet someone and be
+caught. Louis grabbed my dress, shouting 'murder!' Then I seemed to go
+mad. I gave him a push, and he fell over a chair, and lay quite still. I
+rushed to the door, locked it, and took the key, to make a few minutes'
+delay. Then I jumped out of the window (I told you Louis' rooms were on
+the ground floor) and ran very fast. I won't stop now to tell you the
+adventures I had before I managed to dash into the Albuquerque railway
+station, at the last minute, after the train was in. Once in the train
+when I didn't see Louis, or Mr. Heron's secretary, or any one I expected
+to follow me, I began to hope that some other trail had been followed.
+It would have seemed more likely that I'd go back west, where I had
+friends, than travel east where I was a stranger. You promised to stand
+by me. Then you met Justin O'Reilly. I didn't dream Louis was dead. It
+was a week later, when you and I were married, that I saw in a newspaper
+about the beautiful Mrs. John Heron losing her brother suddenly, from
+heart disease. A date was mentioned: the night I took the envelope. Oh,
+Roger, I felt that I was guilty of his death. Even to save Stephen I
+could not have killed him. Do you think me a murderess? If you do, just
+let me go from your arms, and I shall understand. You needn't tell me in
+words."
+
+Roger held her closer. "No, my darling," he said, "you're not a
+murderess. You didn't kill Louis Moreno. He couldn't have lived many
+weeks. The doctor had warned John Heron. I love you more than ever for
+what you've gone through. It's you who should hate me for my cruelty
+and--and my beastly suspicion. But there were some things that tried me
+rather hard. Why didn't you tell me this story long ago? Surely you
+could have trusted me to keep your secret?"
+
+"Yes, I could have trusted you, even though it was Stephen's secret more
+than mine. But I had taken a double oath not to tell! First, I'd
+promised Stephen himself when he came back from the dead, never to give
+any hint of the truth. Later, when he was kidnapped, I was obliged to
+swear another oath, on the memory of our dead parents, and my love for
+my brother, that I wouldn't betray Cheffinsky and his comrades. Now it's
+different. They have betrayed me. Stephen is dead. Such a girl as Clo
+Riley wouldn't have sent this message unless she knew for certain. He
+must have died just before that dreadful Sunday when all our
+unhappiness--yours and mine--began, Roger. To keep their hold over me,
+those men would have done all they could to save him till they had the
+papers they wanted to use, and ruin John Heron. Soon after you brought
+me to New York they found out about our marriage, and put 'personals' in
+the newspapers headed like those others in California: 'Steve's Sister.'
+They knew, of course, that their man, who should have met me in Chicago,
+had been prevented from coming--imprisoned on a charge which they called
+a 'frame-up' but I believe he must have picked someone's pocket and been
+arrested in the railway station. They still had power over me, although
+I was your wife, but I had power over them, too, because I'd got the
+papers they wanted. I answered the messages, and refused to give up what
+I had unless my brother fetched it. I hoped that would bring him. But he
+only wrote--a short letter. He said that he was safe for the time being,
+and was treated kindly. He would come when he could. Meanwhile, I 'must
+keep the papers and the secret'--and wait. I felt relieved after that! I
+dared to let myself be happy. Then, that Sunday, when Clo and I went out
+in the motor, a man was waiting for me in the street. He made me
+understand that he came from Stephen. His name was Peterson. He said the
+Comrades had changed their minds. They wouldn't let Stephen come to me.
+I must send the papers that night or my brother would die. When I asked
+the reason for the change, Peterson pretended not to know. Now, I
+understand at last. Stephen was dead already. Cheffinsky and the others
+had at last lost their hold over me and dared not wait longer. I sent
+the envelope to Peterson by Clo, to the Westmorland Hotel. Yes, the man
+who was murdered! That has been another horror for me. It was when I was
+taking the envelope to Clo, in the car, that I broke the rope of pearls,
+and dared not even stop to pick them up! I hoped that Stephen was
+saved--thanks to Clo--but, Roger, it was not the same envelope you took
+care of for me in the train. It had been changed. Inside, when Peterson
+opened it before Clo, he found only blank paper--writing paper of the
+Santa Fé Limited train. Clo puzzled the mystery out, and explained what
+might have happened when you and I left the train in Chicago--what must
+have happened. A clever trick of Justin O'Reilly's, working for the
+Herons."
+
+"Justin O'Reilly! Damn him!" Roger broke out; but Beverley covered his
+lips with her hand.
+
+"No. He wasn't to blame. He must have thought me a monster of
+ingratitude and treachery to the Herons. The moment they saw the secret
+drawer open they would all have guessed that I'd stolen the sealed
+envelope. It was the only thing kept there. If John Heron told O'Reilly
+what the contents were, he must have supposed I meant to make money by
+blackmailing. The reason the Herons were silent and left me alone, was
+that O'Reilly had managed to have you robbed of the envelope, at
+Chicago, where it was changed for another--another just like it, given
+him by Dolores, with her seal and gold wax. So they were safe. O'Reilly
+kept the right envelope, and it was safer with him than at Albuquerque.
+But they could never be sure whether you were in the affair with me or
+not. So, I have lost you the Herons' friendship."
+
+"As if I cared!"
+
+"And Justin O'Reilly has doubted you, and detested me. But he has been
+splendid to Clo, who went to his hotel and stole the real envelope out
+of his private safe and brought it here----"
+
+"So that was it!" said Roger. "And in your boudoir I found the envelope
+addressed to him at his bank, and sent it back to the Dietz that night."
+
+"Roger! It was you?"
+
+"Yes. You are not the only one with a confession to make. There are many
+things I----"
+
+"I don't want a confession from you!" she broke in. "Whatever you did
+was right. Even before you told me, I felt you knew about the pearls
+being gone----"
+
+"Though I knew, I ought to have trusted you. I ought to have trusted you
+when I heard you telephone O'Reilly----"
+
+"So you did hear! I was sure of it. I telephoned about Clo. He was
+helping her, and so, indirectly, helping me, though I'd seen him only
+when he brought her here that Sunday night, after she'd been to his
+hotel. Oh, Roger, you don't know what that child has done for me! Not
+only did she get back the envelope, and now the pearls--which Peterson
+stole--but she has gone through an ordeal terrible enough to kill most
+women, or drive them mad--that delicate girl! She may be in danger
+still--for she dropped the pearls in a bag out of a window in a shabby
+boarding-house where she has been watching a thief. Miss Blackburne has
+just told me. My one comfort is that a man, answering Justin O'Reilly's
+description, got out of a motor car in front of the house, as Miss
+Blackburne came away. Clo tricked O'Reilly, and stole from him, and
+yet--I think she bewitched him. I think he'd risk his life to keep her
+from harm. I pray that he may bring her here, safe and sound."
+
+"He's not likely to come to my house," Roger said. "I've just caused him
+the greatest disappointment of his life. I wanted to hurt him--and I
+found a way. By this time he must know what I've done. There's an old
+mansion in Gramercy Square built by O'Reilly's great-great-grandfather.
+Years ago there was a forced sale; and ever since Justin O'Reilly was a
+boy he has wanted to buy the house back. I have bought it. But I wish to
+heaven he would fall in love with this Clo of yours and marry her. I'd
+give them the deed of sale as a wedding present!"
+
+Roger had sprung up, released by Beverley, and almost shouted the words
+of his inspiration. He had forgotten everything and everybody in the
+world except his wife, the girl who had helped her, and his own late
+enemy, whom he would now gladly welcome as his dearest friend. A knock
+brought him back to realities with a start; yet he felt half dazed as he
+opened the door, to face Léontine.
+
+"The butler begged of me to come," said the Frenchwoman. "Is it the wish
+of Monsieur and Madame that dinner be still longer delayed?"
+
+Roger turned and looked at Beverley, his hand on the door. "What shall
+we say?" he asked. "Shall I go down without you? Shall I explain that
+you've a headache----"
+
+"No," Beverley answered. She stood up, tall and very beautiful, though
+deadly pale. "I have no headache. I am quite well. Léontine, tell
+Johnson dinner may be served."
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+ON THE ROAD TO NEWPORT
+
+
+Through the blue dusk of the June night a big gray limousine car bowled
+smoothly over the velvet road surface, with the moon overhead, and the
+sea making distant music. Turning a corner with a swing the limousine
+came upon another car, stationary and in trouble. A man in evening dress
+was holding an electric lamp for the chauffeur to peer under the bonnet,
+and standing beside him was a woman in black, wearing a filmy purple
+cloak.
+
+"Want any help?" O'Reilly called from the window, while his chauffeur
+slowed down.
+
+"No, thank you! We'll soon be all right," answered the man with the
+lamp. The light shone on his face, which was strange to O'Reilly, and on
+that of the woman, which, to his surprise, was familiar. "You can go
+on," he said to his chauffeur, in a low voice.
+
+"Why, Mr. O'Reilly, it was Mrs. Heron!" Clo cried, sinking back
+reluctantly upon her comfortably rigged-up bed, after a long stare
+through the window.
+
+"'Mr. O'Reilly,' indeed? Don't you realize I'm your husband?" Justin
+laughed at her.
+
+"I'd forgotten," said Clo. "It's only since this morning, and we've had
+so many things to think of."
+
+"I've thought of nothing but you. You seem to have thought of nothing
+but your Angel--and these Herons."
+
+"It's the Herons I'm thinking of now," Clo confessed. "Why did you tell
+the man to go on?"
+
+"Why, I like old John Heron, but I'm not a spoil-sport."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I'm wondering if Mrs. Heron and that chap are on their way to the
+Sands' ball. If Heron doesn't mind letting them enjoy each other's
+company, why should I butt in?"
+
+"Mr. Heron was in the car," Clo insisted gravely. "It was dark inside,
+but I saw his face at the window."
+
+"You must have sharp eyes," said Justin. "The window looked black as a
+pocket to me."
+
+"You think I imagined it. But I'm sure! Oh, Mr.--er--Justin, do let's go
+back and warn him! I have a presentiment that if we don't, it will be
+too late."
+
+"Whatever you feel as if you must do shall be done," said Justin, with a
+tenderness in his voice of which few people would have believed him
+capable. "The doctor humoured you, and told me to, so here goes!" He
+called through the speaking-tube, and directed the chauffeur to turn.
+"Go back till you get within a few yards of that auto we passed hung up
+on the road," he added. And to Clo:
+
+"Astonishing the interest you take in the Herons!" he teased.
+
+"Not in them. In him. I don't think I like Mrs. Heron," she explained.
+
+"You've worried about him ever since you came to yourself yesterday. But
+then, I'm used to John Heron's life being threatened. It used to happen
+about once a week. And he is alive to this day."
+
+"I feel awfully responsible," said Clo. "You see, I heard Kit and Churn
+talking of the plot, and saying that Chuff was sure to have found
+someone else, after Pete died."
+
+"I tried to get Heron three times on long distance yesterday," said
+O'Reilly, "and when he was always out, I wired."
+
+"You couldn't explain clearly in the telegram."
+
+"If you really saw him in the car, he's all right, up to date. There it
+is, still stranded. We shall soon know."
+
+"Will you get out and talk to him seriously?" Clo urged.
+
+"Yes. If it's he and not his ghost you saw. I'll get him to walk along
+the road with me, out of earshot from his wife."
+
+The gray limousine slowed, and carefully stopped. The chauffeur had been
+told that, for his life, he must not let the car jolt or jerk.
+
+Justin kissed his bride of a few hours good-bye for a few minutes, and
+jumped out.
+
+While Clo kissed her hand, almost timidly, because Justin had kissed it,
+Justin himself walked on to the other car.
+
+"You!" exclaimed Dolores Heron. "So it was you in the limousine that
+hailed us? Funny I didn't recognize your voice, but the chauffeur's
+tinkering made such a noise----"
+
+O'Reilly was about to ask for Heron when Dolores introduced him to Mr.
+Hammersley-Fisher. "He's our host at Narragansett, and is taking us over
+to Roger Sands,'" she said. "Jack's in the car, very bored. I believe
+he's gone to sleep."
+
+"No, he hasn't," Heron's voice answered rather testily, for he secretly
+disliked Dolores' habit of calling him "Jack." "He's only waiting for a
+chance to speak!"
+
+O'Reilly went to the window of the car, and shook hands with his
+friends.
+
+"It's not possible that you're going to the Sands'?" Heron said.
+
+"I should have made the same remark about you a few days ago," retorted
+O'Reilly. "But--circumstances have altered cases with us both."
+
+"My wife is the circumstance that has altered my case," Heron replied,
+in the tone of a man with a grievance.
+
+"So is mine!" returned Justin, in a purposely subdued tone.
+
+"Your--what?"
+
+"My wife. But let's take a walk. Your friend's auto won't be ready to
+move for some time, I should judge."
+
+The elder man, who had been feeling ill and tired, sprang out of the car
+with a sudden increase of liveliness. Dolores and Hammersley-Fisher
+stood with their backs to the two men. Heron's wife turned for a glance,
+but let them walk away without a question. She was flirting with her
+host.
+
+Dolores was saying to Hammersley-Fisher: "I dislike Mrs. Roger Sands
+intensely. I wouldn't dream of going to her house if her husband hadn't
+at one time done quite a service--legally, I mean--to mine. I don't
+often talk like this about people I'm going to visit. But if I could
+tell you the things that woman has done you wouldn't blame me."
+
+To O'Reilly Heron was repeating, as they walked along:
+
+"Your wife, did you say?"
+
+"I did say. But before I go on I've a question or so to ask. You got my
+wire, advising you to be careful, and hinting that some of the old lot
+had bobbed up along your life line?"
+
+"Yes. We were out all the afternoon. I found the wire this evening when
+we got back to Hammersley-Fisher's place to dress for this show at Roger
+Sands'. Now will you tell me----"
+
+"I'll tell you this, that my opinion of Mrs. Roger Sands has changed.
+You shall hear why presently. I rather think it will give you pleasure
+to change yours--when you can conscientiously. As for Sands himself,
+I've learned that we have both done him an injustice in regard to those
+papers."
+
+"How have you learned all this?"
+
+"From the same person who wished me to put you on your guard--made me
+call you up at Narragansett, and wire when I couldn't reach you by
+'phone!"
+
+"Who is this person?"
+
+"My wife. And if you want to know who she is----"
+
+"I most certainly do."
+
+"I could introduce you to her in about two minutes if I weren't afraid
+of her giving you another shock."
+
+"Another--shock?"
+
+"As she did on the Sunday night at our hotel when you had your--little
+attack. Heron, I've married that girl; the most wonderful girl in the
+world."
+
+Heron stopped short.
+
+"That girl!--you--have--_married_ that girl?"
+
+"Yes," said Justin, "I married her this morning. So, if you'd been
+inclined to forbid the banns, you're too late."
+
+For an instant Heron did not speak. But when words came, he seemed to
+fling them at his friend: "You're not joking when you say that,
+O'Reilly. You have a meaning. What's in your mind?"
+
+"Perhaps--the same thing that's in yours, Heron."
+
+"Speak out plainly."
+
+"I'm not prepared to do that without encouragement. You and I are both
+of Irish blood, Heron, so you know as well as I do that imagination gets
+out of hand now and then with us Celtic folk. We generally flatter
+ourselves it's second sight, whereas it may be--just nothing at all."
+
+"I give you leave to speak."
+
+"Long ago, when I first knew you, while my father was still alive, and
+before you married Miss Moreno, you once came to stop with us. You were
+run down and ill. My father thought we could do you good. One day you
+spoke rather frankly about a certain incident in your past. Never since
+have we mentioned that conversation, and I never expected to do so
+again. Yesterday I heard the story of another incident which matched it
+about as perfectly as two bits of a broken coin can join together. This
+second incident concerned two Irish girls. The first died years ago. The
+second--is my wife."
+
+"And the first was mine."
+
+"I was wondering. You see, that collapse of yours on Sunday night wasn't
+like you, in the normal course of things. It had to be accounted for,
+and so----"
+
+"The girl told you!"
+
+"She told me that she'd met outside my door a tall man with red hair and
+beard, and extraordinary eyes that pierced her through and through. She
+told me that, after she'd walked on to a stone ledge from my window to
+yours, and climbed in there----"
+
+"Great Heavens!"
+
+"I mentioned that she was the most wonderful girl in the world. You'll
+hear the story some day. She didn't know who you were, then. When she
+learned your name, although she wasn't conscious of having heard it in
+the past, it affected her strangely. She seemed to associate it with
+wakeful nights in her early childhood, and the sound of a woman's sobs
+in the dark."
+
+"Don't, Justin. I can't stand any more--now. The sight of her face that
+Sunday at the Dietz--the ghostliness of her, in my locked room--I
+thought I was haunted."
+
+"Would you like to see her again, and judge for yourself whether----"
+
+"Take me to her," Heron broke in.
+
+They started on again toward the gray limousine drawn up at the roadside
+only a few yards away; but before they had gone a dozen steps Heron
+stopped O'Reilly once more.
+
+"Does she know?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"I have said nothing to her," Justin assured him. "She cannot know. Yet
+I think, what one would call her 'subconscious self' is aware of a tie
+between you and herself. She's Celtic, too! She hasn't been able to rest
+since she learned (in a way you shall hear about later) that your life
+was threatened. I'm certain that something above Fate has brought us
+three together on the road to-night. I didn't see you in the car. She
+saw you. She made me turn back."
+
+Without another word Heron began to walk very fast. Justin kept at his
+side, but did not speak until they had nearly reached the car which
+contained Clo. Then he warned Heron hastily that the girl had had an
+accident. "That is," he corrected himself, dryly, "she was shot by the
+leader of the band that's after you. If you want to tell her here and
+now what you think you are to each other, I don't forbid it. Happy news
+seldom hurts. (By the by, she explained to me that she came over to
+America because she thought the States looked small on the map, and she
+might meet her American father!) Go gently with her, that's all I ask."
+
+"You give me leave to talk to her--as I wish?"
+
+"Yes. But--what about Mrs. Heron? Is she----"
+
+"Oh, later, I must tell her. To-night I want it to rest between
+ourselves. But, O'Reilly, I can't go on with my wife and that fellow,
+Hammersley-Fisher, to the Sands'--after this! What am I to do? Think
+for me. I can think only--of one thing."
+
+"When I've introduced you to my wife" (each time O'Reilly spoke those
+two words it was with tenderness and pride) "I'll go back to
+Hammersley-Fisher's car and suggest that he take Mrs. Heron on, while we
+follow later, if you like."
+
+"For heaven's sake, do."
+
+They had reached the gray limousine. Justin opened the door. "Clo, here
+is my old friend, John Heron, come to see you," he announced.
+
+"Clo! Her name's not 'Clodagh,' is it?" the question leapt from Heron's
+lips.
+
+"It was one of my mother's names, Mr. Heron."
+
+"And your voice is her voice!" he exclaimed. "Your face is her face." He
+had not meant to begin in this way; but the moment was too big for him
+when Clo switched on an electric lamp, and the light framed her in
+silver. Justin silently moved away, leaving the two to make acquaintance
+as Fate led.
+
+Next morning the newspapers all over the country were head-lined with a
+new sensation. Mrs. John Heron, of California, had arrived rather late,
+on account of an accident to the car of Mr. Hammersley-Fisher, who had
+been entertaining the Herons at Narragansett. Mr. Heron, owing to
+indisposition, had remained behind, and only the lady's host had
+accompanied her to the ball. At the moment of their entrance a dance,
+given by several famous Russian professionals, was nearly ended. An
+extra dancer had accompanied the party as an understudy of one of its
+members who feared a breakdown. Not being called upon to dance, he had
+taken up his station near the door, and must have known Mrs. John Heron
+by sight, though not her husband. When she came in, accompanied by
+Hammersley-Fisher, he shot the latter through the breast, calling out in
+English: "Take that, John Heron, for your sins against the Comrades!"
+
+Unfortunately the Russian--or pretended Russian--was allowed to escape
+in the confusion, but the police had hopes of getting upon his track.
+Mr. Hammersley-Fisher was seriously, but not fatally, injured. All the
+guests of Mr. and Mrs. Sands, with the exception of four, had left, that
+the house might be kept quiet for the invalid.
+
+The four who remained were Mr. and Mrs. John Heron, Justin O'Reilly, and
+Justin O'Reilly's wife.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+_Books by the Same Authors_
+
+
+CAR OF DESTINY, THE
+
+CHAPERON, THE
+
+EVERYMAN'S LAND
+
+GOLDEN SILENCE, THE
+
+GUESTS OF HERCULES, THE
+
+HEATHER MOON, THE
+
+IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT
+
+LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER
+
+LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR, THE
+
+LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR DISCOVERS AMERICA, THE
+
+LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA
+
+MOTOR MAID, THE
+
+MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR
+
+PORT OF ADVENTURE, THE
+
+PRINCESS PASSES, THE
+
+PRINCESS VIRGINIA
+
+ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
+
+SECRET HISTORY
+
+SET IN SILVER
+
+SOLDIER OF THE LEGION, A
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S MOUSE***
+
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diff --git a/21998-8.zip b/21998-8.zip
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Lion's Mouse, by C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson</title>
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+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Lion's Mouse, by C. N. Williamson and A.
+M. Williamson, Illustrated by Harry Stacey Benton</h1>
+<pre>
+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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The Lion's Mouse</p>
+<p>Author: C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson</p>
+<p>Release Date: July 4, 2007  [eBook #21998]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S MOUSE***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="lion_cover" id="lion_cover"></a>
+<img src="images/lion_cover.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+
+<h1>THE LION'S MOUSE</h1>
+
+<h2>BY C. N. &amp; A. M. WILLIAMSON</h2>
+
+<h3>FRONTISPIECE BY<br />
+HARRY STACEY BENTON</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Garden City</span> <span class="smcap">New York</span><br />
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE &amp; COMPANY<br />
+1919</h3>
+
+<h3>COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY<br />
+C. N. &amp; A. M. WILLIAMSON</h3>
+
+<h3>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN
+LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="lion_front" id="lion_front"></a>
+<img src="images/lion_front.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h3><i>Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a young and beautiful woman hovering at the door.</i><br />
+
+<i>'Oh, do help me!' she said.</i></h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+<a href="#I">I. <span class="smcap">The Lion</span></a><br />
+<a href="#II">II. <span class="smcap">The Net</span></a><br />
+<a href="#III">III. <span class="smcap">The Mouse</span></a><br />
+<a href="#IV">IV. <span class="smcap">The Murmur of the Storm</span></a><br />
+<a href="#V">V. <span class="smcap">On the Way to the Car</span></a><br />
+<a href="#VI">VI. <span class="smcap">The Parcel with the Gold Seals</span></a><br />
+<a href="#VII">VII. <span class="smcap">The Queen's Pearls</span></a><br />
+<a href="#VIII">VIII. <span class="smcap">Beverley Talks</span></a><br />
+<a href="#IX">IX. <span class="smcap">The Bluff That Failed</span></a><br />
+<a href="#X">X. <span class="smcap">The Bluff That Won</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XI">XI. <span class="smcap">O'Reilly's Waistcoat Pocket</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XII">XII. <span class="smcap">The Horizontal Panel</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XIII">XIII. "<span class="smcap">There Can Be No Bargain</span>"</a><br />
+<a href="#XIV">XIV. <span class="smcap">The Stone Coping</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XV">XV. <span class="smcap">The Number Seventeen</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XVI">XVI. <span class="smcap">A Quotation From Shakespeare</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XVII">XVII. <span class="smcap">The Mystery of the Boudoir</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XVIII">XVIII. <span class="smcap">Defeat</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XIX">XIX. <span class="smcap">The Brown Trunk</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XX">XX. <span class="smcap">Murder</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXI">XXI. "<span class="smcap">Kit!</span>"</a><br />
+<a href="#XXII">XXII. <span class="smcap">The Voice That Did Not Seem Strange</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXIII">XXIII. "<span class="smcap">What's Done Can't Be Undone</span>"</a><br />
+<a href="#XXIV">XXIV. <span class="smcap">Roger's Appointment at the Club</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXV">XXV. <span class="smcap">Krantz's Keller</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXVI">XXVI. <span class="smcap">The Girl in Pink</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXVII">XXVII. <span class="smcap">When Beverley Came Home</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXVIII">XXVIII. <span class="smcap">Mr. Jones of Peoria</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXIX">XXIX. <span class="smcap">According to the Morning Papers</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXX">XXX. <span class="smcap">What Clo Did with a Knife</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXXI">XXXI. <span class="smcap">The Nine Days</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXXII">XXXII. "<span class="smcap">Stephen's Dead!</span>"</a><br />
+<a href="#XXXIII">XXXIII. <span class="smcap">The Patch on the Pillow</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXXIV">XXXIV. <span class="smcap">Trapped</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXXV">XXXV. <span class="smcap">The Time Limit of Hope</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXXVI">XXXVI. "<span class="smcap">We Do Things Quickly Over Here</span>"</a><br />
+<a href="#XXXVII">XXXVII. <span class="smcap">The Telegram</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXXVIII">XXXVIII. <span class="smcap">Who Is Stephen?</span></a><br />
+<a href="#XXXIX">XXXIX. <span class="smcap">On the Road to Newport</span></a><br /><br />
+<a href="#Books_by_the_Same_Authors">Books by the Same Authors</a><br />
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE LION'S MOUSE</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LION</h3>
+
+
+<p>Roger Sands had steel-gray eyes, a straight black line of brows drawn
+low and nearly meeting above them, thick black hair lightly powdered
+with silver at the temples, and a clean-shaven, aggressive chin. He had
+the air of being hard as nails. Most people, including women, thought
+him hard as nails. He thought it of himself, and gloried in his armour,
+never more than on a certain September day, when resting in the Santa F&eacute;
+Limited, tearing back to New York after a giant's tussle in California.
+But&mdash;it was hot weather, and he had left the stateroom door open.
+Everything that followed came&mdash;from this.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a woman hovering,
+rather than standing, at the door. At his look she started away, then
+stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do help me!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>She was young and very beautiful. He couldn't stare quite as coldly as
+he ought.</p>
+
+<p>"What can I do for you?" was the question he asked.</p>
+
+<p>He had hardly opened his mouth before she flashed into the stateroom and
+shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a man.... I'm afraid!"</p>
+
+<p>Though she was young and girlish, and spoke impulsively, there was
+something oddly regal about her. Princesses and girl-queens ought to be
+of her type; tall and very slim, with gracious, sloping shoulders and a
+long throat, the chin slightly lifted: pale, with great appealing violet
+eyes under haughty brows, and quantities of yellow-brown hair dressed in
+some sort of Madonna style.</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't be afraid," he said. "Men aren't allowed to insult ladies
+in trains."</p>
+
+<p>"This man hasn't insulted me in an ordinary way. But I'm in dreadful
+danger. American men are good to women, even strangers. You can save my
+life, if you will&mdash;or more than my life. But there's only one way." Her
+words came fast, on panting breaths, as though she had been running. The
+girl had stood at first, her hand on the door-knob, but losing her
+balance with a jerk of the train, she let herself fall into the seat.
+There she sat with her head thrown wearily back, her eyes appealing to
+the eyes that looked down at her.</p>
+
+<p>A queer fancy ran through the man's brain. He imagined that a woman
+being tried for her life might look at the judge with just that
+expression. "What do you mean?" asked Sands.</p>
+
+<p>He had resisted the jerk of the train, and was still on his feet.
+Instead of answering his question, the girl begged him to sit down.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't think properly while it seems as if you were waiting to turn me
+out," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Sands sat down.</p>
+
+<p>"I hardly know how to tell you what I mean. I hardly dare," the voice
+went on, while he wondered. "It's a tremendous thing to ask. I can't
+explain ... and if I hesitate it will be too late. I don't know your
+name, or your character, except what I judge from your face. The way to
+save me is to keep me in this stateroom with the door shut, as far as
+Chicago."</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens! That's...." Sands was going to end his sentence with
+"absolutely impossible!" But he stopped in the midst. Her eyes made him
+stop. It was as if he were pronouncing a death sentence. He was silent
+for a few seconds.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd have to say ... no, I could not say you were my wife, because
+everyone knows I've not got a wife. I'll say you are my cousin: say
+you've come late. I want you to have this stateroom, and I'll take
+another ... or a section. I&mdash;I could do that."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you?" she breathed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I will."</p>
+
+<p>He said this almost sullenly. He was thinking: "Pretty smart new dodge!
+Neat way to get a stateroom all the way from Albuquerque to Chicago."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go out now and fix things up with the conductor," he promised. "We
+must settle on a story. You came on board at Albuquerque just now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. The last minute before the train started. I have a berth in this
+car. I thought I was safe, that everything was right for me. Then I saw
+the man ... not the one I expected; worse. He wasn't in this car, but
+the next. I saw him standing there. He was looking at some ladies
+passing through. One had on deep mourning, and a crepe veil. Perhaps he
+believed it was I. I turned and rushed this way. Your door was open, and
+you ... you looked like a real man. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>"What about your baggage?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have nothing. I ... was in a hurry."</p>
+
+<p>"In what name did you make your reservation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Beverley White. White isn't my real name: Beverley is ... one of
+my names. I can't tell you more."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. The porter will get some toilet things for my cousin whom
+I'm to chaperon from Albuquerque to Chicago, and who nearly missed the
+train owing to illness. He'll bring your meals in, as you're not able to
+leave your stateroom."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I'd have asked," she said. "I may trust the porter?"</p>
+
+<p>"The porter knows me. Your idea is," he went on, his hand on the door,
+"that the man you don't want to see will try pretty hard to see you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. When he searches the train and can't find me (I'm sure he's begun
+the search already) he can't be certain I'm on board, but he won't give
+up easily. If the deepest gratitude&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't need consolation. Any other instructions to give before I leave
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Yes ... there's one thing. Will you take charge of a very small
+parcel? I daren't keep it myself, in case anything unexpected should
+happen.</p>
+
+<p>"It is inside my dress," the girl explained. For an instant she turned
+her back, then, rebuttoning her blouse with one hand, held out to him in
+the other a long, thick envelope, unaddressed, and sealed with three
+gold-coloured seals. Roger took the parcel.</p>
+
+<p>"You see how I trust you," she said. "This packet is the most valuable
+thing I have in the world, yet I feel it is safe."</p>
+
+<p>"You told me you didn't know my name. But if I'm your cousin you'd
+better know it. I'm Roger Sands&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Roger Sands, the great&mdash;what is the word?&mdash;corporation lawyer? The man
+who saved the California Oil Trust king?" She looked surprised, almost
+frightened.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't a 'Trust,' or I couldn't have saved him. That was just the
+point."</p>
+
+<p>"How lucky I am to have such a man stand by me! For you will?"</p>
+
+<p>He slipped the long envelope into an inside breast pocket of his gray
+tweed coat. "It's as safe there as in a bank," he assured her. "Now I'll
+go and make everything straight. If you want me, you've only to ring for
+the porter and send me word. I won't come till you do send."</p>
+
+<p>Whether or no her terror was justified, Roger resolved to give it the
+benefit of the doubt. Instead of trying to secure another stateroom, he
+would try to get a section close to Stateroom A, in order to play
+watch-dog.</p>
+
+<p>It wasn't difficult to do. The section he wanted was engaged from the
+next stopping place, but an exchange could be made. The Pullman car
+conductor took it upon himself to attend to that. Sands' suitcase, coat,
+and magazines were arranged on both seats, and he sat down to keep
+guard. The porter had been told that Miss White wasn't to be disturbed
+unless she rang, except at meal times, when he&mdash;Sands&mdash;would choose
+dishes from the menu and send a waiter from the dining-car.</p>
+
+<p>A few toilet things were somehow procured by the negro, and handed into
+Stateroom A, with a contribution of novels, magazines, and a box of
+chocolates, from Miss White's cousin.</p>
+
+<p>Night, Roger realized, would be the dangerous time, if danger there was,
+and he decided not to sleep. Lying awake wasn't, after all, very
+difficult, for the portrait of the girl was painted on Roger's mind. He
+saw things in that portrait he'd seen but subconsciously in the
+original. He thought that her beauty was of the type which would shine
+like the moon, set off with wonderful clothes and jewels. And from that
+thought it was only a step to picture the joy of giving such clothes and
+jewels. The man was surprised and ashamed to find himself thrilling like
+a boy.</p>
+
+<p>Daylight released him from duty. He dressed, and had his section made
+up. Though all peril&mdash;if any&mdash;had vanished with the night, Roger
+couldn't bring himself to leave his post for breakfast until he saw the
+porter tap at the door of Stateroom A in answer to a ring.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope Miss White's feeling better," he said to the negro, when the
+door shut once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sah, she wants her room fixed up. Ah'm gwan do it raight now, but
+Ah'm bound to give yuh the lady's message fust. She thought you'd like
+to heah she's mighty well, considerin'. An' she'll thank yuh, suh, to
+order her some coffee an' toast."</p>
+
+<p>Roger added cantaloupe to the order, and a cereal with cream. The
+mysterious girl hidden in his stateroom was no longer an adventuress,
+sponging on his idiotic generosity: she was an exquisite, almost a
+sacred, charge. As he ate his breakfast in the dining-car he saw a man
+he knew sitting directly opposite him at the next table. Their eyes
+encountered. Roger felt that the other had been staring at him and
+hadn't had time to look away. He bowed, and paused at the table which he
+was obliged to pass on his way out.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do, O'Reilly?" he said, with a slight stiffness. He would
+have preferred to walk past with no more than the nod, but in that case
+the man would believe his late absent-mindedness had been deliberate.
+Roger didn't wish to leave this impression. Justin O'Reilly was nearly
+ten years younger than he, but had got the better of him once, and not
+long ago. Sands was too proud to let it seem as if the memory rankled.</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly rose and shook the offered hand. He was tall and lean, and
+brown-faced as a soldier back from the war. He had a boyish air, younger
+than his thirty-one or thirty-two years: but under that look was the
+same sort of hardness and keenness which was the first thing a stranger
+noticed about Sands.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd no idea you were out west."</p>
+
+<p>"It's been a flying trip," O'Reilly answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Queer I missed seeing you before. Suppose you've been on board since
+Los Angeles?"</p>
+
+<p>"I caught sight of you last night for the first time," said the other.
+"I'm not in your car, and I've been resting up. I came on board tired.
+One usually does come on board tired!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Roger. "Well, we shall knock up against each other now and
+then, here in the diner."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure to. I shall be spending a few days in New York before Washington,"
+O'Reilly volunteered.</p>
+
+<p>"Right! But don't let your coffee get cold for me." Roger passed on.</p>
+
+<p>If his thoughts had not been focussed on the occupant of Stateroom A he
+would have wondered a good deal as to what had taken Justin O'Reilly on
+a "flying trip" west. This was O'Reilly's first year in Congress, and
+he'd man[oe]uvred to make himself a conspicuous figure in Washington one
+way or other. His own present interests could not, Roger thought, be
+interfered with by Justin O'Reilly. The man was a Democrat, and opposed
+on principle to the cause of John Heron, whom Miss White had called the
+"California Oil Trust King": but personally the two were friends, even
+distantly related, and O'Reilly would wish to do Heron no secret injury.</p>
+
+<p>When he got back to his own car Sands found the porter waiting.</p>
+
+<p>"Lady's through breakfus, suh, and would like to see yuh w'en
+convenient," was the message: and two seconds later Stateroom A's
+rightful owner was humbly knocking at the door.</p>
+
+<p>The girl's beauty struck the man anew as she smiled him a welcome. She
+was as well groomed as if she had had a lady's maid.</p>
+
+<p>"Has anything happened? Have you had any trouble on my account?" she
+inquired.</p>
+
+<p>When Roger said no, nothing had happened, she drew a breath of relief.</p>
+
+<p>"No one in any way noticeable has tried to get acquainted with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"The conductor and porter and a waiter or two are the only persons I've
+exchanged a word with&mdash;except a fellow I know slightly, named O'Reilly,
+a Congressman from California. I suppose he doesn't interest you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No man interests me ... unless the one who is saving my life," the girl
+answered surprisingly. As she spoke, a wave of rose-colour poured over
+her face, and she turned quickly away in confusion. Roger felt that she
+had blurted it out, scarcely knowing what she said until too late.
+Instead of liking her less, he liked her better. He brought forth the
+envelope to show. It had been under his pillow all night, he told her.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what I should have done without you!" she said, with a
+gratitude that was almost humble. There'd be a certain blankness, Roger
+couldn't help seeing, when the time came to do without <i>her</i>!</p>
+
+<p>"When we get to Chicago," he asked, "how can I help you there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I expect to be met by a friend. I suppose I shan't see you again:
+but I shall never forget."</p>
+
+<p>Roger Sands felt a horrid twinge of some unpleasant emotion. He loathed
+the "friend" who would take the girl away from him.</p>
+
+<p>"But Chicago's a long way off," she said when he did not speak. "It must
+seem a wild story to you, but the danger I'm in ... the danger that this
+envelope is in ... won't be over for one minute till you've put me into
+my friend's hands. You will do that, won't you? You'll see me through
+till the last?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said Roger.</p>
+
+<p>"And meanwhile you'll come and call on me in the stateroom sometimes if
+you don't mind?"</p>
+
+<p>Roger smiled. A silver lining began to glimmer through the cloud.</p>
+
+<p>By good luck he knew no one on board save O'Reilly, who fortunately was
+in another car, and he hoped that few people knew him. He could not
+resist her invitation. He began by deciding to spend a half hour with
+his "invalid cousin" now and again. As through the veil of beauty he
+caught glimpses of something like character within, Roger felt that the
+mystery thickened.</p>
+
+<p>The inevitable moment came. The porter was brushing men's hats and
+coats. Suitcases were being fastened up. The Limited was slowing down in
+the big station. Then, and not till then, did Miss White show herself at
+the door of Stateroom A. Sands, who had knocked to tell her that she had
+better come out, was waiting to guard her for the last time. Neither had
+much to say. The hope of haven had not raised the girl's spirits. As
+Sands gave her a hand, stepping on to the platform, he saw Justin
+O'Reilly, already out of the train and looking about with the air of
+expecting someone. O'Reilly took off his hat, with an unnecessarily
+cordial smile for Sands. At heart they were enemies. Roger took the
+smile to mean amusement at sight of his companion. He felt annoyed. Miss
+White was looking straight ahead, a brilliant colour staining the cheeks
+usually pale.</p>
+
+<p>The rendezvous, she had explained to him, was at a news stand. "There!"
+she said, "that is where he will be. There's such a crowd, I can't see
+him yet."</p>
+
+<p>They neared the news stand, and as "Miss White" was a tall girl whose
+head could be seen above the hats of average women, he expected a man to
+start eagerly forward. But no man separated himself from the crowd. She
+was beginning to look anxious: there was no flush on her cheeks now.</p>
+
+<p>"Where can he be?" she said. "Something must have happened."</p>
+
+<p>"Taxi broken down, perhaps," Roger tried consolation.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if only it's nothing worse! I must just wait. But you, Mr. Sands, I
+oughtn't to ask...."</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't," Roger cut her short. "I'm not going to desert you."</p>
+
+<p>"I might have known you wouldn't. He can't be long!"</p>
+
+<p>"What about the envelope? Will you have it now?" Roger asked. She had
+begged him to keep it until they were out of the train.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet. I daren't. You're sure it hasn't been stolen from you? Do
+please make certain!"</p>
+
+<p>He put his hand inside his coat, and felt the envelope, which was safe,
+of course. "It's there, as large as life."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank heaven!" she breathed.</p>
+
+<p>Minutes passed: fifteen minutes; twenty; thirty. The girl was white as
+ashes, and dark shadows lay under her eyes. "All hope is over!" she
+said, as Sands glanced at his watch, when they had stood for
+three-quarters of an hour. "Some terrible thing has prevented him from
+meeting me. I don't know what's going to become of me now!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2>
+
+<h3>THE NET</h3>
+
+
+<p>"You made no plan what to do if your friend didn't turn up?" Roger
+enquired. "Have you any other friends in Chicago?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not one."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever lived here, or stayed here?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>If he had now been capable of suspecting her, all his first suspicions
+of Miss Beverley White would have marshalled themselves in his brain.
+Nothing had happened during the whole journey to justify her fantastic
+story of mysterious danger. As for the wonderful envelope, who could
+tell that it didn't contain blank paper? But Sands had got beyond this
+stage. If he were a fool, he asked to be nothing better.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that friend you talk of more than a friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, only a person I trusted for reasons I can't tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. And you don't know what will become of you since he's failed
+you, and you're turned adrift in a strange town?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know at all. I feel stunned&mdash;as if it didn't matter."</p>
+
+<p>"It does matter to a girl like you, left alone without friends in a big
+city where you're a stranger. Have you money?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had enough and more than enough for my journey here, enough to pay
+you back for all you've done. I expected to get more money, and to be
+looked after in Chicago. Perhaps I can find work."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think after all that's passed I can go coolly on my way leaving
+you alone in Chicago? I may be a fool, but I have another proposal to
+make." He paused.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up as if startled.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say to marrying me and going on to New York as my wife?"</p>
+
+<p>For a minute he thought she was going to faint. She seemed suddenly to
+become limp. She swayed a little on her feet, and he caught her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"You're tired out, standing so long," he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it's not that. Forgive me. It was almost too much, finding out the
+height of your goodness. Yet, 'height' is the word!"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll marry me, then!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"No," the girl answered, "I thank you with my whole heart, but I can't."</p>
+
+<p>"Why ... why?" he stammered. "Unless you're married already."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not married. No man has ever been anything to me. I swear that to
+you! But I can't tell you any more about myself."</p>
+
+<p>Roger did not speak for a minute. At last he said:</p>
+
+<p>"See here, you and I have got to talk. We can't do that where we are,
+with people jostling us this way and that. There's one thing certain.
+However this ends, I'm not going to leave you alone in Chicago. We've
+got plenty of time. Will you let me take you to a quiet restaurant? We
+can thrash matters out across the table."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," she agreed.</p>
+
+<p>Roger knew Chicago. When he had arranged to have his luggage put in safe
+keeping, he got a taxi and took the girl to a dull but good place, sure
+to be practically empty at that hour. They sat down at a table in a
+corner, and Sands ordered an oyster stew.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you dislike me?" he began his catechism. "Could you like me enough
+to think of me as a husband, if we'd met in a conventional, society sort
+of way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I could. I do want you to know that. You've been so splendid to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"So far so good, but I haven't been splendid. I've fallen in love with
+you. I haven't been in love before ... that is, not since I was twenty.
+I've never had time...."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't taken much time in doing it now!" She gave a queer little
+laugh with a sob in it.</p>
+
+<p>"I've learned the lesson that time isn't the thing needed. I want you
+more than I ever wanted anything in my life, and I'll take you ... as
+you stand."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't stopped to think ... to count the cost," she said. "Imagine
+what it would be for a man like you to have a wife he knew nothing
+about, just a single figure cut off its background, in a picture he'd
+never seen. People would ask: 'Who was she?' and there'd be no answer."</p>
+
+<p>"They'd not ask me that," said Roger obstinately. "And I wouldn't care
+what they asked each other. I'm not a society man, though I might enjoy
+putting my wife on the top floor. And I can do that with you if I
+choose! You say I'm a man of importance. I'm important enough anyhow to
+take the wife I want, and to put her where I want her to be."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, perhaps. But it wouldn't be only for a little while that I'd not
+be allowed to tell you about myself. It would be for always. You
+couldn't love me enough to be happy in spite of that."</p>
+
+<p>"I could be happy," Roger insisted, "if you'd love me."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd adore you! But...."</p>
+
+<p>"Then there isn't any 'but'. I don't say I shouldn't like to know all
+about my wife and her people and her past. Still, I'd rather have you
+with a future and no past than any other woman with both. I can't do
+without you, and I'm going to have you ... now, to-day, as soon as I can
+buy a license and get a parson to make us man and wife."</p>
+
+<p>"But if you should regret it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never will be sorry, if you'll do what you just said, adore
+me ... half as much as I'll adore you."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes gave him a beautiful answer. Roger Sands felt that nothing
+could make him regret the coming of such a romance into his hustling
+life.</p>
+
+<p>This, then, was the story behind the sensation when Roger Sands came
+back from a short trip to California bringing a wife, a girl who had
+been a Miss Beverley White, a girl nobody had ever seen or heard of
+before.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MOUSE</h3>
+
+
+<p>On the same September day, in Moreton and Payntor's department store in
+New York, might have been seen a wisp of a girl "cheeking" a manager
+into giving her a situation on the strength of her being Irish.</p>
+
+<p>By chance, the side door of the big Sixth Avenue shop opened for Clo
+Riley (her true, Irish, baptismal name was Clodagh, but she didn't think
+that would "go" in New York), on the day when Roger Sands' stateroom
+door, on the Santa F&eacute; Limited, opened for a very different girl and for
+Romance. No one would have thought that they could be in the same
+story&mdash;the mysterious Vision and the little, sharp-faced thing from
+County Cork. Yet without Clo Riley it would have been another story
+altogether, even though, for more than six months, she and Mr. and Mrs.
+Roger Sands never heard each other's names, nor saw each other's faces.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the April after her marriage that Mrs. Sands came upon an
+advertisement in a newspaper. Moreton and Payntor were making a splash
+about their lately started department for antique furniture. They had
+obtained "eight magnificent, unique pieces of satinwood furniture
+painted by Angelica Kaufmann, bought by a representative of Moreton and
+Payntor, from a titled family in England."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley Sands (her husband called her "Bev") loved painted satinwood,
+when it was good. How she knew that things were good or bad, Roger
+sometimes wondered: but she did know. Roger had taken a house at Newport
+which had come into the market, and Beverley was picking up "beautiful
+pieces" with which to furnish it. The house would, they hoped, be ready
+to move into by June.</p>
+
+<p>When she read Moreton and Payntor's advertisement, Beverley decided to
+see the satinwood suite and buy it if genuine. Her present wealth
+emphasized her astonishing, incredible happiness. "He gives me
+everything I want, he trusts me to do everything I like," she thought.
+Life was wonderful. Slowly she was coming out from under the cloud of
+fear, and had ceased to be afraid of Something terrible that might
+happen.</p>
+
+<p>Roger went every morning to the offices of the firm which had his name
+at its head. She had breakfasted with him in a kind of super-dressing
+gown which Roger said was like an opal seen through a sunrise mist. As
+her maid hooked up her frock she sang for happiness. She wished she
+could earn it by making someone else happy. Roger didn't count in that
+way. The credit would be to do things for a person you didn't love.</p>
+
+<p>"To the first creature I meet to-day, who needs help, I'll give it," she
+said to herself. "I'll do something big ... like sacrificing on an
+altar."</p>
+
+<p>She went out in Roger's latest present, a limousine car, so silent and
+so swift that it travelled like a cloud-shadow. Outside the car was dark
+blue; inside, the pale azure of a robin's egg. Beverley told the
+chauffeur to drive to Moreton and Payntor's, avoiding traffic because
+she was in a hurry. To do this, he approached the shop by passing
+through a side street in which was the entrance for employees, as well
+as that leading to minor departments, and so connecting with the main
+shop. It was comparatively a quiet street, but to-day there was a crowd.
+Something had happened, and only a moment ago, for a policeman was just
+coming up. The chauffeur would have hurried by to spare Mrs. Sands what
+might be an unpleasant sight, but on one of her impulses she stopped
+him. The car windows were open. Beverley heard the words "Poor child"
+and "Ambulance." She opened the door and jumped out. Because she was
+beautiful and beautifully dressed, and had a fine car, people made way
+for her.</p>
+
+<p>On the pavement a girl was lying. There was some blood, and that would
+have made Beverley sick, if the face streaked red hadn't struck her as
+the most tragic, the most pathetic face she had ever seen. It was so
+ghastly white, so thin, and yet so young!</p>
+
+<p>"What is it? What's happened?" she inquired of the innermost group.</p>
+
+<p>"Chucked herself out of a fourth story window," a fat woman answered.
+"Somebody was beastly to her, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she dead?" Beverley asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet ... though she must be a bag o' broken bones. She'll die on the
+way to hospital, likely, in the ambulance, with nobody to care."</p>
+
+<p>At that instant, as if she heard the terrible words, the girl's eyes
+opened. It seemed to Beverley that they looked straight at her.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she remembered her own resolve. It had been almost a vow: "To
+the first creature I meet to-day who needs help I'll give it."</p>
+
+<p>Here was the creature. If ever there were an appeal in human eyes, it
+was in these. Perhaps it was an unconscious appeal. Perhaps the brain
+had been stunned asleep, but the deep-down soul was awake. It was
+calling to Beverley's soul, and the call had to be answered, or the vow
+would be broken. Roger Sands' wife dared not break such a vow lest she
+should be punished and lose her magical happiness.</p>
+
+<p>She hated the sight of blood. She wanted to think that, if the girl were
+dying, she could do no good. Yet, while reason argued, instinct had
+already decided that this was the claimant of the vow. Beverley knelt
+down beside the curiously flat-looking body which lay on the pavement.
+Her dress dipped into a widening pool of blood, but she did not sicken
+as she had thought she would. And to her own surprise she found her hand
+stroking back a lock of dark red hair from the upturned face. Poor,
+thin, child's face!</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be afraid, you're going to be loved and cared for," she promised.</p>
+
+<p>By this time a doctor had arrived. He, too, knelt by the sufferer. He
+spoke to Beverley, thinking she had some acquaintance with the injured
+girl. The police had cleared away the sensation seekers, but the lovely
+lady of the blue automobile was left in peace. She seemed to be helping
+the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep off, please, keep off," the policemen repeated. "The ambulance'll
+be round any instant."</p>
+
+<p>But the ambulance did not take its cue. This was strange, for the
+service was splendidly prompt. A man ran up bringing news that there'd
+been a collision with a trolley. No one was hurt, but it meant a delay
+before another ambulance could be called and respond.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't we take her away in my car?" asked Beverley. "Oh, why shouldn't I
+have her at my house? She's only a child, so thin and frail! Loving care
+might save her. I'd have a trained nurse in. I'm Mrs. Roger Sands. You
+may know my husband's name."</p>
+
+<p>The name of Roger Sands was impressive. So was Beverley, and so was the
+car. The ambulance wasn't at hand, and time pressed. It seemed as if the
+offer might be accepted. The doctor was the physician engaged to attend
+the employees of Moreton and Payntor, and had authority in the
+neighbourhood. To test Mrs. Roger Sands' character he abruptly ordered
+her into the surgical department&mdash;"ground floor, close by the side
+street entrance"&mdash;to "fetch out a stretcher and be quick." Beverley
+responded without hesitation, and in two minutes a startled boy appeared
+with a canvas thing like a cot.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor and one of the policemen got the childish body on to this
+while Beverley darted to her waiting chauffeur. He&mdash;Robbins, an elderly
+Englishman&mdash;was furious, but short of giving notice then and there,
+could do nothing save obey. The folding chairs were pulled out: on one
+was piled the car's best ornament, a large chinchilla rug, and some blue
+silk cushions. These gave support for the foot of the stretcher, its
+head resting on the seat; and the other folding chair was taken by the
+doctor who, sitting there, could hold his patient safely in place. Mrs.
+Roger Sands scrambled up beside her chauffeur, and did not even notice
+that the man's face was a thundercloud.</p>
+
+<p>Robbins could have cried. His last situation in England had been with a
+duke. He would still have occupied it, had he not long passed the
+"smart" age. Roger Sands had thought him an excellent guardian for
+Beverley. Robbins didn't approve of America, but he had approved of his
+mistress. There had seemed to him something queenly about her which
+"reminded him of home," but to-day he was ashamed of her: to drive
+through the streets of New York sitting on the front seat beside him, as
+if she were a lady's maid! Worse than all, her dress, her gloves, were
+stained with blood. As for the inside of the new car, it would be
+ruined. The man felt responsible, and believed that his master would
+consider him so. Sitting beside Mrs. Sands, with the look of an inferior
+Roman statue on his square face, the chauffeur resolved to see Mr. Sands
+before the tale of this morning's work could be told by Sands' American
+chauffeur, who drove him to and from the office. The Englishman decided
+to bribe the American to "lend his job" that afternoon. They could
+arrange an excuse. Harter had a cold. But, as it happened, Roger Sands
+read of the affair in a second edition of an evening paper while he
+waited for his car.</p>
+
+<p>To see Beverley's name in big letters gave him a shock. He became
+conscious that somewhere within him had always been a horror of finding
+his wife's name in a newspaper, heading "scarelines." His first feeling
+as he read on was of relief. Why, this was nothing!</p>
+
+<p>Some reporter had worked up the incident into a romance, and his editor,
+appreciating Roger Sands' importance, had given it nearly a whole
+column. On the surface it was a tribute to Mrs. Sands' goodness of
+heart; but as Roger's rush of thankfulness passed, he began to see an
+unpleasant side of the business.</p>
+
+<p>The reporter had interviewed various persons in the firm of Moreton and
+Payntor. He had learned that the girl befriended by Mrs. Roger Sands was
+employed in the restaurant for women "assistants." By certain of these,
+she had been suspected of small thefts. They had watched her, and it was
+in the midst of a "scene" following an accusation, that the waitress had
+suddenly flung herself out of a fourth story window. She was an Irish
+girl not long in New York. Her name was Clo Riley, and she had been in
+the employ of Moreton and Payntor for nearly seven months. She had made
+no friends, and was considered "Mysterious."</p>
+
+<p>At the Park Avenue apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Roger Sands an interview
+had been refused; but the reporter had learned from a servant that, if
+the invalid were "a dear relative" of Mrs. Sands, she could not be more
+lovingly cared for. The largest and handsomest spare room had been
+hastily prepared, a trained nurse engaged, and a famous surgeon had been
+called in consultation with the doctor who had undertaken the case.
+Following these details came a description of Mrs. Roger Sands, gleaned
+from an "eye witness" of the "sensational scene" enacted in the street.</p>
+
+<p>The story developed strangely to Roger. He saw something behind it. He
+knew things about Beverley which, he trusted, few others knew, and saw
+the affair in another light.</p>
+
+<p>Roger's marriage experiment was a success. He was glad that he had taken
+the girl "as she stood." To have what she had called a "figure cut off
+its background out of an unseen picture," was better than to have lost
+forever a figure of such beauty. He believed that Beverley was as good
+as she was sweet, but she had been right in her prophecy; it was
+hideous, sometimes, to see her outlined against darkness.</p>
+
+<p>The incident had happened close to Moreton and Payntor's department
+store. Beverley had been in the habit of going there lately. She might
+have had a reason for choosing that shop. Indeed, it struck Roger as
+incredible that even her impulsiveness could lead her so far, for a
+stranger's sake. Besides, why hadn't she telephoned? It looked as if she
+were determined to carry out her scheme before he could oppose it.</p>
+
+<p>In this mood he went to his automobile. He was surprised to see Robbins,
+but not sorry, because Robbins had been mixed up in the morning's
+affair.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this I've been reading in the <i>Evening Star</i>?" he broke in.</p>
+
+<p>Here was luck for Robbins! He began to excuse himself for the disgrace
+which had fallen upon the new car. "It was the mistress's order, sir,
+and I had no choice; but I can't help thinking if she'd known what a
+mess the blood would make, she'd 'ave let me call a taxi."</p>
+
+<p>"Another lining is easily put in," said Roger, coolly; but he was angry
+for the first time with Beverley. Of all women, she was the one who
+ought to think twice before doing a thing to get herself talked about;
+but she never thought twice. As he drove homeward, doubts of her crowded
+into his mind.</p>
+
+<p>At home, Beverley was in the room which had been turned into a hospital
+ward. The nurse had called her, to announce that the "patient" had
+returned to consciousness and had begun asking questions.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw it would worry her to be put off," went on Sister Lake, "so I
+told her a few things. She remembered throwing herself out of the
+window, and the fall, and then waking up, lying in the street. She said
+she'd dreamed of an angel-girl bending over her. When she heard what
+you'd done, she insisted on speaking to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go at once!" Beverley exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Just for a few minutes," the nurse hinted.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley let herself be led in. The room looked strange to her. The
+servants, directed by the doctor, and later by the trained nurse, had
+swiftly, noiselessly made the changes before the girl came back to
+herself. The curtains had been taken down, and rugs cleared away from
+the parquet floor. Most of the furniture had disappeared, and on a glass
+table were a number of bottles. The bed faced the door, and as Mrs.
+Sands softly entered a pair of eyes looked at her. Beverley's heart
+jumped as her eyes met them. She had not known how immense and dark they
+were, or that they were beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>The nurse drew Mrs. Sands near to the bed, and issued her orders before
+the girl could open her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Neither of you must talk much," she commanded. "Mrs. Sands has come to
+let you see that she exists, and you can thank her if you like, but she
+mustn't stay many minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"Sister Lake is right," said Beverley. "You mustn't excite yourself.
+You're going to get well; and this is your home."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not excited," the girl answered, in a low, monotonous voice, hardly
+above a whisper. "But I had to see you, and tell you this one thing. I
+didn't want to live, because ... I was miserable, and everyone hated me;
+still, it seemed awful to die. You saved me. I wish to live now, if only
+to show you what gratitude can be. I expect you're awfully rich. I'm
+poorer than any church mouse. It doesn't look as if I could do anything
+for one like you. But who knows? There was a mouse once helped a lion.
+It gnawed a hole in a net. I feel as if the time must come when I can do
+as much, because I want to so dreadfully. That's all!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MURMUR OF THE STORM</h3>
+
+
+<p>It seemed that everything were to go wrong with Roger Sands that day. He
+had felt for the last few months that a cloud had risen between him and
+John Heron, whose cause he had won in California. If ever a business man
+owed a debt of gratitude to the brains of another, John Heron owed such
+a debt to Roger Sands, who had risked not only his reputation, but even
+his life against the powerful enemies of the alleged "California Oil
+Trust King." Heron had appeared fully to appreciate this; and before
+Roger left for New York had been almost oppressively cordial, begging in
+vain that Roger would visit him and his wife, a famous beauty with
+Spanish blood in her veins. He had written once, immediately after
+Sands' departure, and had telegraphed congratulations on reading the
+news of Roger's marriage. But the friendly reply had remained
+unacknowledged. The wedding present of a gold tea service had been
+accompanied by no letter, only a card with the names of "Mr. and Mrs.
+John Heron." With Sands' thanks the correspondence ended.... This had
+vexed Roger, who liked Heron and was not used to being slighted. The
+only thing he could think of was Beverley's failure to enclose a note to
+Mrs. Heron in his letter of thanks. She had argued that the present was
+for him, really, and that if she wrote Mrs. Heron it would look
+"pushing."</p>
+
+<p>Roger let the matter slide, and had written in his wife's name and his
+own. At last he read in some newspaper that "Mr. and Mrs. John Heron
+intended shortly to start for the east, where they would spend the
+summer." Without waiting to consult Beverley he wrote, saying he had
+read the news, and he and his wife hoped for a visit in their Newport
+house as soon as it was ready. He had written, not from the office, but
+from home, with the Park Avenue address on the paper. To-day, as he
+entered his study, his eye lit on an envelope with John Heron's writing
+upon it.</p>
+
+<p>The letter lay on the top of others on his desk, and instead of going to
+find Beverley at once, as was his lover's custom, he sat down to read
+his correspondence.</p>
+
+<p>The first letter he opened was Heron's, which consisted of a few lines
+on one page. Roger's eyes took in the whole at a glance.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Sands</span>:</p>
+
+<p>My wife and I are obliged to you for your kind invitation, but
+owing to the fact that we have already made a great number of
+engagements I fear we shall be unable to give ourselves the
+pleasure of accepting.</p>
+
+<p>Yours truly,</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Heron</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>The blood rushed to Roger's forehead. He realized that this was a
+deliberate insult.</p>
+
+<p>The last letter had begun "Dear Sands," and had been signed "Yours
+gratefully ever." Roger was even more furious than mystified. "Next time
+he wants me to pull him out of a death trap, he can whistle for his
+pains!"</p>
+
+<p>At that instant Beverley tapped at the door, and half opened it to peep
+in.</p>
+
+<p>This irritated Roger. He had told her from the first that she need not
+knock at his study door.</p>
+
+<p>"How often have I begged you not to knock?" he broke out at her. "Come
+in if you want to."</p>
+
+<p>It was the first time he had ever spoken crossly. Beverley started, and
+the look on her face, instead of overwhelming Roger with remorse,
+hardened him.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley's colour had been bright, but she turned pale as Roger flung at
+her his scolding words. Seeing the letter in her husband's hand the
+blood streamed back to her cheeks. If she could possibly have known and
+recognized Heron's writing, it might have seemed that the sight of it
+had struck her with fear. But no such far-fetched thought occurred to
+her husband.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm sorry!" she said hastily. "I heard your voice&mdash;I supposed
+someone was with you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Roger forgot that he had spoken aloud. In silence he let the girl cross
+the floor and sit down in the easy chair she called "hers." She dropped
+into it as if her knees had given way, and looked at Roger. When he did
+not speak, she could bear the suspense no longer.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you're reading a letter&mdash;I interrupted you?"</p>
+
+<p>"The letter's of no importance," said Roger, throwing it upon the desk.
+"It's only from John Heron to tell me that he and his wife won't be able
+to come and see us at Newport. One would suppose by his tone that he was
+offended. Probably Mrs. Heron expected you to gush over the wedding
+present, and has put him up to snubbing me because you didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"You asked the Herons to visit us? I&mdash;didn't know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I did ask them," Roger cut her short. "I heard they were coming East."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Roger, I couldn't have met them! If they'd accepted I should have
+had to be ill, or&mdash;or go away!" Beverley exclaimed on one of her
+impulses, which instantly she appeared to regret. "I'm glad you don't
+like Mr. Heron's letter, because&mdash;you'll never ask them again! I haven't
+done anything to annoy you, have I?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know best whether you have or not."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it necessary to ask? I came home intending not to question you. But
+I must make one comment: you're surprised that I invite a friend to
+visit us without consulting you. That seems inconsistent with what
+you've done. I've read the evening paper, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Roger! It's in the paper ... about that poor child and me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally! You and I aren't nonentities."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think I did wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wrong's a big word. You've done something foolish, and inconsiderate to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"What harm can the child do to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"That depends upon what sort of 'child' she is! Perhaps you can give me
+a better account of her than the <i>Evening Star</i> gives!"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't give you any," said Beverley, in a trembling voice, "except
+that she was the most pitiful thing I ever saw ... so young and
+desperate, lying in pools of blood."</p>
+
+<p>"Which pools of blood you transferred to your new motor car, my present,
+that I thought you valued."</p>
+
+<p>"Roger! What did the motor matter, compared with saving a life?"</p>
+
+<p>"Saving a life wasn't in question. An ambulance would have been on the
+spot in a minute to take the girl to a hospital."</p>
+
+<p>"She wouldn't have had love in a hospital. I felt it was for lack of
+love she'd tried to kill herself...."</p>
+
+<p>"A girl who steals her companions' money can't expect to have their
+love...."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! So that's what the newspaper says? I don't believe she stole. Wait
+till you see the poor little thing, Roger."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to see her. Now she's here, she'll have to stay till she
+dies, or can be safely moved. I've no wish to be cruel. But when she can
+go, I want her to do so. I don't mind giving...."</p>
+
+<p>"You do mind giving faith and sympathy!" Beverley burst out. "Why should
+you take me on faith, and refuse it to another? You knew nothing about
+me ... I know nothing about this child...."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you're sure you know nothing about her!" His tone was bitter.</p>
+
+<p>"What could I know?" she echoed. "I brought her straight home, and she
+hasn't been able to talk ... except a few words."</p>
+
+<p>"It occurred to me as rather odd you should do so much for a complete
+stranger."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see! You think I knew her ... before?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it possible. Her name put the idea into my head. I heard you
+say it once ... in your ... sleep ... Riley ... or something like that."</p>
+
+<p>For the third time Beverley blushed, one of her fatal, agonized blushes.
+The rush of blood forced tears to her eyes; and a certain strained look
+in them, a quivering of the lips, brought back to Roger's mind a picture
+of her in the train. That was the first time he had seen her blush. She
+had said&mdash;he remembered well&mdash;"You are the only man I'm interested in,"
+and had blushed furiously. He had been sure then that she was no
+adventuress. She had looked like a frightened child, and she looked like
+one now. With that picture of the girl in the train came back another
+recollection. She had asked if any man had inquired for her, or if any
+"noticeable" person had sought his acquaintance. He had replied that
+he'd not spoken with a soul except a man he knew slightly, a Congressman
+from California named O'Reilly. He supposed that O'Reilly didn't
+interest her? Upon this, with a desperate blush, she had made her
+startlingly frank reply.</p>
+
+<p>As this came back, Roger's heart was no longer soft. What a fool he had
+been, that day in the train, not to connect the girl's change of colour
+with his mention of O'Reilly! She might have blurted out her compliment
+to excuse the blush, instead of the blush having followed the
+compliment. Good heavens! could Justin O'Reilly have been the man from
+whom she wished to hide?</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps the name you spoke in your sleep was O'Reilly!" he flung at his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley gathered herself together.</p>
+
+<p>"So all this time," she said, "you have been suspicious of me! And I was
+so happy. I thought you were happy, too, but it's just as I was afraid
+it would be, if I married you. You can't endure the strain!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have endured the strain," Roger defended himself; "because I loved
+you as few men have ever loved, but the question is, have you deserved
+it all?"</p>
+
+<p>"This is the moment I felt must come!" she said. "If I had only myself
+to think of, don't you know I'd have told you everything? I warned you
+how it would be ... how I should have to keep the secret not for a
+little while, but for always! If you don't believe, if you think I lied
+when I said no man had ever been anything to me ... if you think I lie
+now, when I say I never saw or heard of this girl till I found her in
+the street.... I can go out of your life.... I can go to-day!"</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke slowly, sentence by sentence, with a sobbing breath
+between, Beverley looked straight into her husband's eyes. Hers did not
+falter though they swam in tears. With her last words, she rose and
+stood facing him as he sat at his desk.</p>
+
+<p>Roger gave her back gaze for gaze, as if he would read her secret
+written in cypher on her soul. He saw that she meant what she said. A
+word from him, and their experiment was at an end. She would go. It
+seemed to him that never had her beauty been so gentle, so womanly.</p>
+
+<p>"You shan't go!" he cried, springing to his feet. "I can't give you up!"</p>
+
+<p>But she held him off.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" she panted. "I won't stay if you want me only in that way&mdash;because
+you have a kind of love for me, whether you believe in me or not. I love
+you too much to be shamed by you! Either you trust me, or you don't. Say
+which it is, and I'll stay, or go."</p>
+
+<p>"I've got to trust you! I do!" The words seemed to burst from him. "You
+know I love you more than all the world. It would kill me to lose you."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather die from the shock of losing you, Roger, than from such a
+hateful pain, going on and on&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It shan't go on," he said. "I've been happy, too. I'm a changed man
+since the hour I saw you and loved you. It's only to-day I've been
+wretched. Forgive me, Bev&mdash;and God forgive you if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There's an 'if' for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no, there's no 'if' any more. You're to forgive me&mdash;&mdash;that's all!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I do! The hard thing would be not to forgive. But&mdash;can we go on
+being happy again, just as if nothing had happened?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course we can, silly child. Nothing has happened." Roger had her in
+his arms now. He kissed her over and over again, till she gasped for
+breath. "This has only cleared the air. As for that beastly child, I
+don't care if she's a murderess. Keep her forever, if you choose. Train
+her as your maid&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But she's not 'beastly!' And she's not the kind to have for a maid. I
+think she's a lady. She seems&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, do whatever you like with her. Can I go further, to show you I
+want to atone?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you can't, Roger&mdash;&mdash;" Beverley nestled her face into his neck. "I
+adore you!"</p>
+
+<p>She closed her eyes, but opening them she happened, looking over Roger's
+shoulder, to see John Heron's letter on her husband's desk. A faint
+shiver ran through her body, and Roger felt it.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, my darling?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing!" she answered. "A mouse ran over my grave."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE WAY TO THE CAR</h3>
+
+
+<p>Beverley found that she could "be happy again, as if nothing had
+happened" between her and Roger. For one thing, it was wonderful to feel
+that she had the power to "save" a fellow-being, and wonderful to be
+worshipped as Clo worshipped her. Of course, Roger "worshipped" her,
+too, but it was Beverley who looked up to him. Clo looked up to her.
+When Beverley went into the room presided over by Sister Lake, the
+child's great black eyes dwelt upon her as the eyes of a devotee upon
+the form of a goddess "come alive." Roger Sands' wife felt simply that
+she was repaying God for saving her, by what she was able to do for this
+Irish girl.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Clo was allowed to talk she insisted upon telling Beverley
+about herself. There was, apparently, no romance or mystery in the story
+of her eighteen years of life. Her mother had died when she was less
+than three, but Clo could "remember her perfectly." It wasn't only the
+photograph she had (a badly taken one of a young woman with a baby in
+her arms), but she could see her mother's colouring. Oh, such lovely
+colouring! Not dark red hair, like her own, but gold, and eyes more
+brown than gray. And mother had been only twenty-four when she died. Clo
+had to admit that most of what she knew of mother was from the Sisters
+who looked after the orphans. Yes, it was in an orphan asylum that the
+child had been brought up. About father she knew nothing, except that
+mother had "lost" him before her baby was born, and that he "came from
+America." Evidently his name had been Riley, because mother was Mrs.
+Riley, and Clo was Clodagh because "that was a name in mother's family."</p>
+
+<p>The Sisters had been particularly kind. Mother had given Clo into their
+care, because she lodged, and had fallen ill, in the street of the
+orphan asylum. There had been a little money, which was placed in a bank
+for the child. The Sisters had known that mother was a lady; but the
+orphan girls, when they grew up, were supposed to be put into service.
+Neither Clo nor the Sisters had wanted her to be a servant, and when she
+was sixteen a situation was found for her as "companion" to an old lady.
+Clo "stuck it out" for nearly two years. Then she ran away and sailed
+for the United States, her unknown father's land, with the sixty pounds
+which was her fortune. This money was all spent, and she was nearly
+starving when she snatched at what she could get with Moreton and
+Payntor.</p>
+
+<p>"But I just couldn't eat and dress on my wages," Clo explained, in her
+soft, rich voice, rather deep for so young and small a girl, and made
+creamy by a touch of Irish brogue. "One has to do both in New York. I
+was so hungry all the time, if the girls left a crust on their plates I
+used to hide it. I expect the way I'd look to see if there'd be anything
+left gave them the idea I was a sly piece. They thought I put on airs,
+too. Me! P'raps it was my not knowing their kind of slang. And it's true
+I did steal once, or almost the same thing as steal. There was a dollar
+bill on the floor under a table one afternoon. 'Stead of trying to find
+who was the owner, I slipped it inside my dress. I must have been nearly
+off my head, or I'd never have done it, darling Mrs. Sands! When the
+time came to go home to my room that night, I didn't go. I went to a
+restaurant, and I ate. I ate a whole dollar's worth of dinner, just so I
+couldn't give any money back if I changed my mind next day. Well, next
+day was the day you know of. And what with knowing I was a thief, and
+the girls knowing it, too&mdash;though there was no proof&mdash;I thought the best
+thing for a lost child was to die!"</p>
+
+<p>Beverley had by this time "made everything right" for Clo at Moreton and
+Payntor's. Indeed, Mrs. Roger Sands having taken her up, she had become
+quite a classic figure of romance among her late enemies. When Beverley
+told the girl that when she got well she wouldn't have to go, but could
+stop and be "a sort of secretary," Clo Riley almost had a relapse from
+the shock of joy.</p>
+
+<p>By the end of May Clo's broken ribs had mended. The first day when she
+was up and dressed, able to go downstairs, and out for a spin in the
+renovated blue car, she was a very different looking girl from the
+battered wisp of humanity whose blood had stained the "robin's-egg"
+cloth and silk.</p>
+
+<p>It was Sunday, and Clo was burning with excitement. She was to meet her
+Angel's husband for the first time. She had pictured him a dragon. The
+Angel loved him, but the Angel was such a saint, and would love any old
+husband. Clo imagined that Beverley had been poor (she must have known
+poverty to be so sympathetic!) and that she'd married an elderly man
+because&mdash;well, not entirely because he was rich (that wouldn't be like
+an Angel) but because she needed protection. Clo expected to see a
+grumpy graybeard.</p>
+
+<p>Roger expected to see a washed-out invalid of indefinite type, a young
+woman of the shabbiest shop-girl order.</p>
+
+<p>What Clodagh saw, when she followed Mrs. Sands into the study, was a
+strong, dark man, not old at all, apparently, and almost interesting
+enough in looks to be worthy of the Angel. Still, she was not sure she
+was going to like him.</p>
+
+<p>What Roger saw was a small, slender girl, too childish, too impish, to
+think of as a "young woman." She had a little oval face with a pointed
+chin. It was pale, but not washed-out, and her lips were red. An
+obstinate, impudent mouth, Roger thought. As for her eyes&mdash;he had never
+seen such great eyes in a human face. They were like holes in a blanket,
+so big, so black, as they stared up at him. She had curly auburn hair,
+that looked even redder than it was, in contrast with her eyes. But
+though the face was impish, not pretty precisely, with its high cheek
+bones and impertinent chin, he had to admit that it was noticeable, and,
+in some odd way, attractive. The girl was charmingly dressed. He might
+have known that Bev would see to that. Clo was a surprise to him, as he
+was to her. Each saw that the other was a distinct and interesting
+personality; and Roger realized that Beverley was right; the girl had
+the air of being a lady. There was something else about her, too, which
+piqued him. He could not make out what it was. Did she look like someone
+he knew?</p>
+
+<p>He was polite, as he had promised to be, and called Clo "Miss Riley."
+When Beverley said that they were going out for the invalid's first
+drive, Roger replied that he was glad; but Clo, catching his eye,
+fancied she saw a sarcastic gleam.</p>
+
+<p>"He's thinking of the time I came here in that same car," she told
+herself. "I know I must have spoilt it&mdash;got it all messed up with blood.
+Probably he had to give a lot for doing it over. And my goodness, the
+dollars of his that Angel has been pouring out for me every day since!
+No wonder he looks sick! But some day I shall pay. I don't know how,
+only I shall&mdash;I shall!"</p>
+
+<p>Beverley and Clo went down in the gorgeously decorated elevator.</p>
+
+<p>"If Angel lived in a garret, it would be a palace to me," she reflected.</p>
+
+<p>A hall porter opened the door of carved bronze over glass. Without
+seeming to look, he took in every detail of the slim figure in white
+cloth; the small white hat tilted over the dark red hair, the tiny white
+shoes, the dainty ankles in silk stockings. Clo could have laughed
+aloud. Of course, the giant in livery knew the whole story. He was
+contrasting the way she came out with the way she had come in.</p>
+
+<p>Drawn up at the pavement was the glittering blue automobile, with the
+statuesque Robbins at the wheel. Clo remembered both, with a queer, sick
+pang. She had not been wholly unconscious when the stretcher was pushed
+into the car. "What I owe this darling woman!" was the thought she
+breathed like a prayer.</p>
+
+<p>As the two crossed the pavement&mdash;tall, beautiful Beverley and quaint
+little Clo&mdash;a man who must have been loitering close by started toward
+them with a limping step, and took off his hat.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this Mrs. Roger Sands?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley stopped short, within a yard of her car. For such a graceful,
+softly moving person, her movement seemed jerky. Clo glanced from the
+man to Mrs. Sands in surprise. One would say the Angel looked
+frightened, only that would be absurd! Besides, the man wasn't a
+creature worth being afraid of. He was short, and very thin, as if he
+had been ill. He hadn't a nice face. Sallow and sickly it was, like a
+prison bird, with hollows under the red-rimmed eyes. He was badly lame,
+too, if he wasn't pretending; and altogether, in spite of her newly
+mended ribs, Clo felt that she herself would be equal to knocking him
+down.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am Mrs. Sands," Beverley answered, as if against her will. "I
+don't&mdash;but perhaps someone has sent you with a message?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a way, yes, that's it," said the man. "I had a message for you. I'm
+the man sent to meet you in Chicago, September 21st of last year."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PARCEL WITH THE GOLD SEALS</h3>
+
+
+<p>There was a second of suspense for Clo, and then Beverley spoke quietly:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see! That's very interesting," she said. "I hope&mdash;the news is
+good?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a long message," the man answered. "I was told to let you have it
+in person. I thought you'd be goin' out sooner or later. If your husban'
+'ad bin along, I'd have left a line, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind what you would have done, please," Beverley cut him short.
+"The best thing I can think of now, is this" (she hurried on in a low
+tone, and Clo who had stepped aside, nearer to the car, did not catch
+the words), "Take a taxi, and follow my automobile. We're going into the
+Park. When you see us stop, you must stop too, at a distance.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall get out and let the motor, with my friend in it, go on without
+me for a while. Then we can talk. Do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be there," said the man.</p>
+
+<p>He touched his hat and moved away, as if his errand were done.</p>
+
+<p>"Drive slowly through the Park," Beverley instructed Robbins, and gently
+made Clo get into the car before her. "I'm so sorry to have kept you
+standing, dear," she said. "I hope you don't feel weak or 'tottery'?"</p>
+
+<p>Clo did feel very weak, not from fatigue, but from excitement. She
+replied that she felt "grand." And Mrs. Sands forgot to say that she was
+glad.</p>
+
+<p>The girl glanced at the older woman, and saw that she was staring
+straight ahead, with a withdrawn look in her eyes, which told that she
+saw nothing. Clo's heart beat fast. This drive was to have been a
+glorious experience. She had seen Central Park more than once, and had
+walked there, miserable in her loneliness. Now, though she looked out of
+the window, it was to let Beverley feel that she was not being stared
+at. The girl saw only a blur of colour, as if a kaleidoscope turned
+before her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>At last Beverley spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear child," she said, "I'm sure you understand that the man who was
+waiting for me brought a message I'm anxious to hear. And&mdash;I'm sure of
+another thing&mdash;that I can trust you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd die any minute for you, sure I would!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you would! But I don't want you to die. All I want is for you
+to listen while I explain&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"As if you needed to explain to me!" the girl broke out.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't need to, perhaps, yet I wish to say just this: I love Roger
+dearly. I've told you so often enough! I'd give anything on earth not to
+have a secret from him. But to save a life&mdash;not my own&mdash;there is a
+secret I must keep. This man and his message are part of it. Now, that's
+all I'm going to explain, except that&mdash;that nothing must be said."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd bite my tongue out sooner!" Clo protested.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, dear! Now we've had this talk, it's a comfort, not a worry,
+having you with me. You won't mind if I send you on while I get down and
+walk in the Park?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd love it!" said Clo.</p>
+
+<p>At once Beverley took the speaking tube and ordered the chauffeur to
+stop. He drew up at the side of the road. They were in the midst of the
+Park now, an exquisite green and gold world of peace and beauty.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel like taking a little exercise," Beverley said to Robbins, as she
+stepped out of the car. "Miss Riley isn't strong enough to walk. Go as
+far along Riverside Drive as Grant's Tomb, and then come back, but
+slowly, so she can see everything. You'll find me waiting here."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed that Robbins carried out his instructions too laboriously. Clo
+didn't like the ferret-man, and she didn't believe that Beverley liked
+meeting him.</p>
+
+<p>When at last Robbins brought the car back to the rendezvous there was
+the tall graceful figure in gray, standing alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, have we kept you?" the girl cried, throwing open the door before
+the automobile stopped.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley did not answer, or seem to hear. She did not even look at Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"Home!" she said to Robbins. "As fast as you can!"</p>
+
+<p>Clo was shocked into silence, and hardly breathed when Beverley had sunk
+on to the seat, covering her face with her hands. The car had nearly
+reached the Sands' corner of Park Avenue before the elder girl spoke.
+Then she said abruptly, as if waking from a dream:</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me! I couldn't talk! I'm in dreadful trouble! I must ask you to
+help me. Are you strong enough to take a longer drive, and to walk a few
+steps alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather!" said Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, when we stop in front of our house, sit still in the car. I don't
+want Sister Lake or Roger to know we're back. I'll run in, get a parcel
+which must be taken to a certain place, and give it to you. Then Robbins
+will drive (I'll tell him) to a hotel on Broadway, called the
+Westmorland. I never heard of it before, but it seems that it's near 33d
+Street, and quiet and respectable. Go into the restaurant and order tea.
+While you're there, that man you saw will come into the room, and you'll
+hand him the packet. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds too easy," Clo said.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope it will be easy. I'll bring you a latch-key when I come down
+with the parcel. Let yourself in when you get home, and go straight to
+your room. I don't want you to fib, but try to make it seem to Sister as
+if we'd just come back. She'll think it strange if she knows I've sent
+you out on an errand by yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"She shan't know," the girl promised.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>are</i> a comfort! You see, I told Roger I'd be at home by four, and
+I couldn't be, till long after if I took the parcel myself. I shall only
+just be in time as it is. Here we are at the door! Now I'll rush. In
+five minutes I hope to be with you again. Oh, if only Sister Lake isn't
+at the window!"</p>
+
+<p>The five minutes passed, and Beverley didn't return. Clo watched the
+silver-gilt clock under the vase of violets. Ten minutes; fifteen
+minutes; no Mrs. Sands! The girl was wondering whether she ought to wait
+indefinitely, or seek her friend to see what had happened when Beverley
+appeared. She was breathless with haste.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, take this, and do just as I told you to do," she said, thrusting
+into Clo's hands a bag, not a parcel. "Inside you'll find what I spoke
+of, and money to pay for your tea. I had to hide the parcel. I can't
+stop to explain more now." She turned to the chauffeur, and hastily
+ordered him to drive to the Westmorland Hotel. Miss Riley had to meet a
+friend there; Robbins must wait till she was ready to come home.</p>
+
+<p>Only as the car slowed down in front of the third-rate hotel did Clo
+touch the hasp of the gray suede bag. It was not locked, and save for a
+crumpled dollar bill, its sole contents was a large, unaddressed
+envelope fastened with three gold seals. On each of these seals was the
+same elaborate monogram, which Clo did not try to make out; but it was
+not composed of Beverley Sands' initials. Evidently the parcel had been
+crammed into the first handy receptacle, for it was all but too big to
+go in, and Clo found it difficult to extract without damaging the seals.
+Leaving the bag on the seat, she hid the envelope under the smart, white
+cloth cape which went with her new frock.</p>
+
+<p>The restaurant of the hotel opened off the hall. At that hour, a little
+after four o'clock, there was no one in the room but a waiter. Afternoon
+tea was evidently not a daily custom of the Westmorland's guests, but
+when it was brought at length, the ferret-man had not yet arrived.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear, what shall I do if he doesn't come?" Clodagh asked herself,
+thinking fearfully about the chauffeur&mdash;and about Sister Lake.</p>
+
+<p>Just then the face of the ferret man appeared at the door. He glanced
+about, fixed the girl with his red-rimmed eyes, slouched into the room,
+and limped briskly to the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" he exclaimed, with a familiar grin, and pulled out a chair to
+sit opposite Clo. He kept on his hat. His breath reeked spirits, and the
+girl was disgusted, but she was the faithful servant of Mrs. Sands, and
+the waiter was staring.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's the parcel Mrs. Sands sent. She particularly wanted me to get
+back as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>The long envelope, with the gold seals uppermost, was lying on the
+table. Clo removed a napkin she had laid over it, and pushed the parcel
+across the table. As she did this she rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Looks right enough!" remarked the ferret man, sitting still. "This
+is what she told me to expect: long white envelope, three gold
+seals&mdash;&mdash;" He picked the parcel up, holding it to his sharp nose and
+near-sighted eyes. "Yeh, munergram, or what yuh call it, right, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Then that's all," said Clo, Beverley's dollar bill in her hand. "I'll
+call the waiter&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be too previous, cutie, <i>if</i> you please!" and a not immaculate
+hand helped itself to a fold of her dress. "Yuh an' me ain't workin'
+this show on our own. You're for Mrs. Sands, I'm fur&mdash;well, I'm fur
+someone I guess is even more particular than her. It's as much as my
+job's worth to let yuh make your get-away till I've had a squint inside
+this yere envelup."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Sands didn't tell me there was anything to wait for after I'd put
+it in your hands," Clo objected. "I don't see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's me that's got to see. Now yuh keep yer hair on, gurlie, while I
+lamp this thing. No good tryin' the sneak game, because I'd be on to yuh
+like a thousand o' brick before yuh'd took a step&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I've no intention of running away," Clo assured him, with a dignity
+copied from her idol. "Mrs. Sands has nothing to hide."</p>
+
+<p>The man chuckled, as with a knife taken from the table he opened the
+envelope without breaking the seals. He did this slowly. Clo sat down
+again.</p>
+
+<p>The ugly hands drew out from the envelope another smaller envelope.
+There were no seals on it, but the flap was stuck with gum. The man
+swore under his breath as he used the knife again. Clo was deeply
+interested. Her idea was that the fellow would pull out a quantity of
+greenbacks; but in an instant she saw that she had guessed wrong. There
+were many sheets of paper folded together, at least a dozen, and this
+seemed to astound the man. With a jerk he opened out the sheaf of
+papers, and having stared an instant, slammed them on to the table.
+"Curse her, she thought she'd do us, did she?" The words tumbled out
+between his brown, broken teeth, as he dashed his fist on to the papers.
+"So this is why she sent you&mdash;you catspaw!"</p>
+
+<p>Clo was far from being a coward. Her hot, defiant temper rose at the
+least alarm, but she was so amazed at the result of her errand that she
+was struck dumb. Mechanically her eyes had turned to the papers. She saw
+that the upper sheets consisted of blank stationery taken from a train,
+the Santa F&eacute; Limited.</p>
+
+<p>"If you're trying to scare me, you can't," she said. "You're acting like
+a fool. If something's gone wrong in your business, it isn't my fault,
+and I'm sure it isn't Mrs. Sands. If there's a trick, she's tricked,
+too. Try to have common sense."</p>
+
+<p>The girl's fearless gaze and quickly spoken words calmed the man.</p>
+
+<p>"It's darned rot to say my lady who stayed at home ain't in the trick.
+Why, dumbhead, this paper shows! She was on board the Limited. Gee!
+Don't I have cause to know that? It's easy as slidin' off a log to see
+what she done. She helped herself to what was in this yere envelope, an'
+filled it with train stationery. Then she sealed it up with the same
+kind o' seals. Stole the stamp and wax on purpose. Thought she could get
+away with it. I take off my hat to her."</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing except that I agreed to bring the parcel," said Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"You go back to her ladyship as fast as you can scamper, and tell her I
+wasn't soft enough to bow myself off the stage without peepin' at what
+Santa Claus had put in my stockin'. Tell her 'twould only o' bin a
+matter o' time if I hadn't peeped. As it is, it's a matter o' less time.
+Tell her a life will pay for this, and she jolly well knows whose!"</p>
+
+<p>The man had ceased to bluster, and now that he had got himself in hand
+again his fierce eyes and his low, hissing voice thrilled the girl as
+his threats had not thrilled her. This time he allowed her to rise,
+which she did, tottering slightly. She had forgotten about paying for
+her tea, but the dollar bill lay in a crumpled wad on the table. The man
+placed one of his oddly repulsive hands over it.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see to the waiter," he said. "I'm stayin' in this hotel. You cut
+along and tell your lady friend she's got till ten o'clock to-night to
+explain herself, not a minute more. Good day to you, Miss Baby Doll!"</p>
+
+<p>Without answering, Clo walked out of the room, ashamed that her knees
+were weak, and hoping that she could get safely to the car without
+making a fool of herself. Physically, it was a great relief to lie back
+against the soft cushions of robin's egg blue, and shut her eyes. What
+would Angel do when she heard how dreadfully the errand had failed?</p>
+
+<p>Clo had forgotten the difficulty of making Sister Lake believe, without
+a fib, that she and Mrs. Sands had only just come in from their drive
+together. But she remembered as she went up in the elevator. It was very
+late now&mdash;long after five. Sister was sure to be cross; but if she were
+cross only with Clo, and not Mrs. Sands, that wouldn't matter.</p>
+
+<p>Few things work out according to expectations. Sister Lake had been at
+the window, it seemed, when the car brought back Mrs. Sands and Clo
+before four o'clock, and had been alarmed when the former descended to
+hurry alone into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid you'd fainted," she said when Clo arrived at last. "I flew
+out of this room to go down in the elevator, and bumped into Mr. Sands
+in the hall, and while I was apologizing and making him understand she
+appeared on the scene."</p>
+
+<p>"My goodness, the fat <i>is</i> in the fire!" Clo thought desperately. Aloud
+she said: "Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"She said you wanted to go to tea with someone, and she was hurrying to
+her room to get money for you, so that you could stand treat. I
+objected, as I had a right to do," went on Sister Lake. "You're still my
+patient, if my time is up to-morrow. And if you have a relapse I shall
+be in a nice fix, as I'm due at Mrs. Jardine's Tuesday morning! Mrs.
+Sands really acted very queer, she was so determined you should go. Even
+when her husband backed me up, she was as obstinate as&mdash;as&mdash;if she
+wasn't such a sweet woman, I should say a pig!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was my fault," pleaded Clo. "I'm not tired a bit." Yet as she
+argued, a voice was saying inside her head: "No wonder the poor darling
+was a long time coming down with the parcel!"</p>
+
+<p>But this, though exciting enough, was as naught beside the great
+question: "What would Beverley say, what would she feel, when Clo had to
+confess all that had happened at the Hotel Westmorland?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE QUEEN'S PEARLS</h3>
+
+
+<p>Roger also had a secret that Sunday. He waited for Beverley and Clo to
+be gone (reminding his wife that she had promised to be back by four)
+and then called up the Belmont Hotel by telephone.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me Count Lovoresco's room," he said, and presently a foreign
+conception of the word "Hello!" rumbled through the receiver.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Count," Roger replied, recognizing the voice. "My wife's safely
+off. I'll send my own car round at once. Now you've got the letter of
+confirmation we can settle our business. What? You're ready? Thank you.
+My man'll be at the hotel as soon as you can get down. Good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later a dark, dapper, elderly man with magnificent eyes
+was ushered into Roger's study.</p>
+
+<p>"You've brought the pearls, of course?" Roger asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mistaire Sand, I bring ze pearls," announced Count Lovoresco.</p>
+
+<p>"And the letter from the Queen?"</p>
+
+<p>"From 'er Majesty's secretaire," Count Lovoresco corrected. "'Ere it
+is." He drew from a breast pocket a square envelope with a crown and a
+monogram on the flap. This he handed to Sands, and as the latter opened
+it, he took from another pocket a purple velvet box, oval in shape,
+about eight inches long by two in height. On the cover appeared a gold
+crown, and the same monogram as that of the envelope. Roger had seen
+this box and its contents; so, instead of watching a tiny gold key
+fitted into a miniature padlock, he read the letter authorizing Count
+Lovoresco, in the name of his Queen, to sell in America a rope of
+pearls, for the benefit of the soldiers' orphans of her country.</p>
+
+<p>"This clears the deck," remarked Roger. The cover of the oval box was
+raised, and lying in a series of concentric grooves he saw the pearls
+which he intended to buy for Beverley. They were two hundred and fifty
+in number, as he knew, and were graduated in size, the largest being as
+big as a giant pea. All were exquisitely matched in shape and colour,
+and the one fault&mdash;if fault existed&mdash;was a blue whiteness disliked by
+some connoisseurs. Roger was aware, however, that Beverley loved
+snow-white pearls.</p>
+
+<p>"Any minute Simon Lecourt may be here," he said to Lovoresco. "When he's
+looked at the things, I'll sign and hand you my cheque for two hundred
+and sixty thousand dollars."</p>
+
+<p>Lovoresco smiled under his dyed moustache, but the wonderful eyes, for
+which men of his race are famous, lit angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"You are ze most prudent of gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "Your great
+Franco-American pearl expert, 'e 'as valued ze pearls one time already
+at 'is own place, under your eye, Mistaire Sand. Now 'e 'as to come to
+your 'ouse! Mazette! But you must tink me a smart one, saire, if I could
+change false tings for real in ze last minute!"</p>
+
+<p>"I think some other smart men might have changed them without you or me
+being smart enough to know the difference," Roger explained. "I believe
+in making a ship watertight before she goes to sea."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right," Lovoresco said, shrugging his shoulders. "I am pleased
+once more to meet ze expert."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Simon Lecourt," announced the butler.</p>
+
+<p>At a quarter to four&mdash;the cheque having been signed&mdash;Roger was shaking
+hands with the jewel expert he had summoned, and bowing to Count
+Lovoresco. The pearls were his, and he was impatient for Beverley. In
+five or six minutes she ought to arrive.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley stepped into the lift as Count Lovoresco and Simon Lecourt
+stepped out. As they passed she heard Roger's name, and her heart
+jumped. These were strangers to her, but they had perhaps been calling
+on Roger. What if they were connected with the past terror which had
+begun lately to seem as dim as a dreadful dream? What if they had been
+telling Roger?</p>
+
+<p>Such a thought would not have come, save for the scene she had gone
+through. With her nerves keyed to breaking point she went up to her own
+floor with somewhat the sensation she might have had in stepping from
+the tumbril to the guillotine. It was all she could do not to scream at
+Sister Lake in the hall; and when Roger appeared also it seemed to
+Beverley that she would faint.</p>
+
+<p>Roger did not share the nurse's interest in Clo's outing; but he wanted
+Beverley.</p>
+
+<p>"Good girl!" he exclaimed, trying to be gay. "You're back ahead of time.
+Send one of the servants down with money for Miss Riley. Come into the
+study; I've got something to show you. When you've seen it you'll know
+why I asked you to be home by four."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be there in a minute!" Beverley answered. "Let me take off my hat
+first. I've rather a headache!"</p>
+
+<p>She turned toward her room, hoping that Roger would wait in the study,
+thus giving her a chance to find what she had to find, and take it to
+Clo in the waiting auto. But Roger, remorseful already for his disloyal
+thought connecting her with O'Reilly, followed.</p>
+
+<p>"If you'd a prophetic soul," he said, "your headache would go. Are you
+good at guessing, Bev?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl was at her wits' end. Already she had almost fibbed, in
+explaining Clo's errand. If only, now, she could have five minutes'
+grace!</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to know I never guess anything right!" she laughed. "It's not
+quite four. Show me the wonderful thing just as the clock strikes!"</p>
+
+<p>Roger pulled out his watch. "All right, baby!" he teased her. "You've
+got just three minutes and a half. Perhaps you think a woman needs that
+time to take off her hat; I'll show you you're wrong!"</p>
+
+<p>He neatly extracted a hat pin which Beverley had twisted into her veil.
+Then off came the hat. Roger led his wife by the hand to the door of his
+study. Beverley was in despair. Her one cause for thankfulness lay in
+the fact that he had forgotten Clo. If he'd remembered to send down
+money, the girl would have been bewildered, and perhaps have come in to
+ask for instructions. There was room in Beverley's brain for no other
+thought than "How am I to get that parcel and give it to Clo?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut your eyes," said Roger. "The clock's going to strike four now;
+don't open your eyes till it stops."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley obeyed, as in that mood she would have obeyed an order to stand
+still and be shot through the heart. "One&mdash;two," slowly struck the
+grandfather clock in the corner; and she felt something cool and heavy
+dropped over her neck. "Three&mdash;four!" the clock finished. "Open your
+eyes," Roger gave the signal.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" cried Beverley, almost aghast. On her delicate gray dress the
+double line of pearls glistened like huge drops of dew on a spider-web.
+The rope hung down below her waist, and each pearl had a light in its
+heart as if it held the ghost of a rainbow. "It can't be true! It's a
+dream!" the girl stammered. She loved pearls, and knew that these were
+marvels beyond common knowledge. But oh, if they could have come to her
+at another time!</p>
+
+<p>She managed, however, to put a world of emotion into one kiss and clasp
+of her arms. Her silent anguish was disguised as awe. By this time she
+had an inspiration. She felt like the Queen of New York, she said. She
+must run to her room for a look in the glass, as there was only a weird
+old convex mirror in the study. In just a minute&mdash;or maybe two
+minutes&mdash;she would come back. She could have sobbed out "Thank God!"
+when Roger, laughing at her vanity, let her go. This time he did not
+follow. He stood examining the purple velvet case with the Queen's crown
+and monogram. He had not told Beverley the price he had given for the
+pearls. He wondered if she guessed that they had cost a fortune. Why
+didn't she come back?</p>
+
+<p>Beverley had not even thrown a glance at the mirror. In her own room she
+tore open the drawer where her handkerchiefs were kept in rose-scented
+sachet cases. The largest of these cases she snatched, throwing the
+contents back into the drawer. With fingers that shook, she ripped the
+top of the padded silk cushion, and extracted a long envelope sealed
+with three gold seals. She would hardly have remembered the Queen's
+pearls had the rope not caught in the key of the drawer as she turned
+hastily to go. Before she could save it, the string broke, and pearls
+big as peas began falling like hailstones.</p>
+
+<p>With a cry, she caught the broken ends of the rope together, dragged it
+over her head and bundled it into the drawer among scattered
+handkerchiefs. She did not even stop to close the drawer. As for the
+fallen pearls&mdash;a dozen at least&mdash;there was no time to think of them, or
+of what Roger would say when he heard of the accident.</p>
+
+<p>Crushing on her hat, which still lay on the bed where Roger had thrown
+it, she ran from the room, stuffing the envelope into her handbag. Luck
+favoured her. She got out of the flat and into the lift without being
+seen.</p>
+
+<p>When five minutes had passed and Beverley was still away, Roger decided
+to join her. He opened the bedroom door, and looked in. Something rolled
+away from Roger's foot on the threshold. He stooped and picked the thing
+up: it was an enormous pearl.</p>
+
+<p>A shock of fear thrilled through him. He thought that news of his
+purchase might already have reached the underworld. In these few
+minutes, while he calmly waited for Beverley, she might have been
+murdered. Things like that did happen. He stepped on a second pearl, and
+saw that others lay on the pale rose carpet. He stood staring. At the
+foot of the bed a tall screen had been placed to keep the light from
+Beverley's eyes in the morning. What if behind it he should find her
+lying?</p>
+
+<p>As he braced himself to go and look, Beverley herself came into the
+room. It seemed that she shrank at sight of him.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you'd been kidnapped or killed!" he gasped. "What's
+happened?"</p>
+
+<p>"N-n-nothing," she stammered. "It was only&mdash;we forgot about Clo&mdash;I had
+to take her that money. I&mdash;&mdash;" She broke off, seeing the pearl in
+Roger's hand. "Oh, wasn't it dreadful that the rope snapped?" she
+hurried on. "I wanted to get back to you quickly. I knew the pearls were
+safe here. I just shut the door, and ran down."</p>
+
+<p>"So I see," Roger said drily. All the joy he had felt in his splendid
+gift was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"What are a few pearls more or less compared to Miss Riley's
+convenience?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Roger!" Beverley burst into tears. "Don't look at me like that!
+Don't speak to me like that! You think I don't value the pearls? I
+do!&mdash;for themselves, and for your love! I acted on impulse&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so. You've done that before. Don't apologize, my dear girl. It's
+not worth it. I care less for the things than you do. Ring for your maid
+and let her sweep them up. I dare say she'll find them all to-day or
+to-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Beverley, fighting back the hysterical sobs that choked her.
+"No, I won't have anyone look for the pearls but myself. Unless you,
+Roger, would show your forgiveness by helping me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have an appointment," he answered. "I'm late for it now. I shall have
+to go at once."</p>
+
+<p>It was not true. He had no appointment. But he felt that he must be
+alone, and out of doors, in the fresh air.</p>
+
+<p>Clo Riley, returning from her errand at the Hotel Westmorland, did not
+see him as she tripped from car to door, but Roger on his way home saw
+the girl hurry in as if each second were important. Hardly had she
+vanished when a man strolled round the corner. He was walking slowly,
+and looking up at the fa&ccedil;ade as if interested. Roger, at the farther end
+of the block, recognized Justin O'Reilly.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>BEVERLEY TALKS</h3>
+
+
+<p>Clo remembered Beverley's instructions, and went straight to her own
+room, but the threat of the ferret-man rang in her ears. "Tell your lady
+friend a life will pay for this. She's got till ten o'clock to-night,
+and not a minute more."</p>
+
+<p>It was now after five, and Sister Lake was firmly bent upon undressing
+her charge. Clo had to let herself be tucked into bed. Meekly also she
+received the order to lie quite still and rest till dinner time.</p>
+
+<p>Rest! As though she could rest, not knowing what ought to be done next
+to help the Angel! A passive plan occurred to Clo, which could do no
+harm, and her quick wit suggested how best to carry it out.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be as good as gold," she promised, "if you'll forgive me, Sister,
+and do me a favour. I feel sick because I spoilt your afternoon! You
+stayed in, waiting for me to come back, instead of taking your walk.
+Will you go out now, instead? I'll rest better if you will. Do, please!"</p>
+
+<p>All Clo's Irish powers of persuasion were needed to coax Sister into
+consenting. Eventually she relented. Clo could have sung for joy as
+Sister Lake bade her "good-bye for an hour." As the door of the room
+closed, the girl began counting the seconds which must pass before the
+outer door shut.</p>
+
+<p>"Sixty-two&mdash;sixty-three&mdash;she ought to be gone!" Clo was whispering, when
+her heart sank. The room door opened. She feared that Sister Lake had
+changed her mind; but it was the Angel who came in.</p>
+
+<p>"I was racking my brain how to get rid of Sister when I saw her go out,"
+Beverley said. "I'm sure you managed it. I've been desperate. You can't
+think what things have happened! Tell me, did all go well?"</p>
+
+<p>The blow must be struck. In a few words Clo described the scene at the
+Westmorland; told how the ferret-man had kept her waiting; how he had
+said that the envelope looked all right, but had insisted upon opening
+it; how he had flown into a rage at finding only folded sheets of blank
+paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Blank paper!" Beverley gasped. "But that's impossible! I know what was
+in the envelope. There were letters. The man must have tricked you."</p>
+
+<p>Clo shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I was watching him. He had no time, or chance, to play a trick. The
+blank paper was there, and nothing else. It was writing paper, quite a
+lot of sheets that seemed to have been taken from some train, 'Santa F&eacute;
+Limited,' or a name like that."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley gave a cry, as if she had been struck over the heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me think," she groaned. "How can that have been? Writing paper
+taken from the train?"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she turned, and came back to the bed, putting out her hands in
+a groping way to Clo. The girl caught and held them tightly. They were
+very cold.</p>
+
+<p>"Angel! is there nothing I can do?" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley sank on the bed once more.</p>
+
+<p>"My head feels as if I'd been given ether," she said. "I can't think
+things out clearly. That isn't like me! A terrible day! One shock after
+another. If I talk to you, will you swear by all that's sacred never to
+give away one word?"</p>
+
+<p>"I swear by my love for you. That's the most sacred thing I have, except
+my locket with mother's picture," the girl answered.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," Beverley went on, "I've no one else but you, Clo. If I told
+my husband anything, I should have to tell all. I daren't do that. Not
+because I couldn't trust him. But I've taken an oath ten times more
+solemn than the one you took just now, to keep a secret that isn't only
+mine. Another's life depends on the secret being kept. To save that life
+I was forced to do what I hate to think of. And it's no concern of
+yours, but it would be Roger's if he had the faintest inkling! Now, I'm
+going to tell you one or two things, and you must use your brains to
+explain the mystery. You're clever, and true as steel. You've proved
+that! Suppose a case; suppose you'd undertaken a dangerous mission. You
+have in your charge some documents which could make or break a man. You
+know you'll be followed. You nearly miss your train, but you jump on
+board at the last minute. You see a man&mdash;not the one you expect, but
+another just as much to be feared&mdash;more, perhaps, because he's a great
+deal cleverer, if not so violent. You think you're lost, but you find a
+friend, a man who helps you. You give him the envelope that has the
+papers in it&mdash;a sealed envelope. You've seen it, Clo! He keeps it
+through the journey. At a stopping place on the way he offers to hand it
+back to you, but you refuse. You feel that the thing is safer with him.
+Later, in New York, he returns the envelope intact, the seals unbroken.
+This friend who comes to the rescue is the soul of honour. Never since
+that moment has the envelope been out of your own keeping. Yet it is
+opened to-day for the first time, and the papers that were in it are
+gone, changed for stationery of that train, the 'Santa F&eacute; Limited.' How
+can this have been done? Who did it?"</p>
+
+<p>"The other man must have done it, the one who followed you on to the
+train."</p>
+
+<p>"But he was never near Rog ... never near the man who ... oh, I might as
+well tell you right out that it was Roger who kept the envelope for me.
+I'll tell you the name of the other man, too. It's sure to slip out! His
+name is Justin O'Reilly."</p>
+
+<p>"O'Reilly?" Clo echoed. "How dare the brute have a name like mine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, so it is like," said Beverley. "But there's an 'O,' and he spells
+it differently."</p>
+
+<p>"Beast! He'd better, or I'd have to change," snapped Clo. "Well,
+whatever his name is, I believe he must have stolen your papers. Can you
+go back, and live over again every step of the way?"</p>
+
+<p>Beverley shut her eyes, and began to think aloud. "The morning after we
+started Roger mentioned meeting an acquaintance ... a man named
+O'Reilly. He didn't dream the name meant anything to me. They exchanged
+only a few words when Roger passed O'Reilly's table at breakfast time.
+Nothing could have happened then, I know. Afterward, I never heard of
+their meeting again through the whole journey. I should have heard, if
+they had, I think. Roger was with me a good deal. At Chicago.&mdash;Let me
+see!...</p>
+
+<p>"I'm calling it back to my mind. Roger helped me out of the train.
+O'Reilly was out already. He stood on the platform, looking for
+someone&mdash;or so it seemed. We went quite close to him, but not close
+enough for even the smartest pickpocket in America to steal the envelope
+from Roger."</p>
+
+<p>"Where was the envelope then?" the girl wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>"In an inside breast pocket of Roger's coat; not an overcoat. It was
+September. The weather was hot."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't it be easy for any one looking for the envelope to see that
+Mr. Sands had something thick and long in an inside breast pocket, and
+suspect what it was?"</p>
+
+<p>"Any one might suspect. No one could be sure. It would have shown more
+plainly if Roger had worn his coat buttoned. He didn't, on purpose."</p>
+
+<p>"Still, his coat not being buttoned would make it easier to steal the
+envelope, if somebody very clever got a chance to try."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps. But O'Reilly could never have done such a thing. It would take
+a trained thief."</p>
+
+<p>"Can people send off telegrams from those Limited trains?" Clo took up
+her catechism again.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course they can."</p>
+
+<p>"Would there have been time for this O'Reilly chap to wire Chicago,
+after he followed you on board the train, and have a man meet him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, plenty of time."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what if he wired to some detective people, and told them to send
+him the 'smartest pickpocket in America'?"</p>
+
+<p>"But ... the police couldn't ... wouldn't ... do such a thing!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean the real police," Clo explained. "Haven't you often read
+books about private detectives? I have. They might get reformed thieves
+to work for them. Can you remember what O'Reilly did next, after you
+both passed him on the platform?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I didn't look back."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know, then, whether the person he seemed to expect ever
+turned up?"</p>
+
+<p>Beverley shook her head. "Roger and I went straight ahead to a newsstand
+where <i>I</i> expected to meet a person. Two or three minutes after we
+passed O'Reilly we were mixed up in a big crowd, almost fighting our way
+through...."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a big crowd!" Clo broke in. "A chance for that pickpocket. Suppose
+he came the minute you had turned your backs on O'Reilly, and he sent
+his trained thief after you, hot foot, to get that envelope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but you've forgotten something!" cried Beverley. "A thief might get
+the envelope: I'll admit that. But how could he have another one exactly
+like it, with the same seals, the same monogram, to put into Roger's
+pocket, when he took the original?"</p>
+
+<p>"He could only have it if O'Reilly could have given it to him. Could he
+have done that?"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Beverley began to see. A vivid idea sprang into her head, and
+was imaged in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You've thought of something!" Clo exclaimed. "You see how O'Reilly
+might have got the seal with the monogram, and the gold wax, and an
+envelope like the one you had?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. I do see!" Beverley groaned. "He could have brought the things
+from&mdash;from.... But never mind. That part's nothing to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I want only to know the part you want me to know," said Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't a question of what I want. It's a question of my sacred oath,"
+Beverley answered. "There was a house where I had been, to get the
+envelope. O'Reilly was there, too. Someone ... no matter who! ... could
+have given him all the things, so he could change envelopes if he got
+the chance. Oh, child, I keep stumbling on to a path where I dare not
+step."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll go back to the train," said Clo. "If O'Reilly had the gold wax
+and the seal, and the right kind of envelope, he could have made his
+plan, and sent his telegram, and had everything ready for the right
+minute ... in the Chicago station."</p>
+
+<p>"Ye&mdash;es, he could. But it's almost impossible!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's more possible than Mr. Sands' changing the envelopes, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is the one impossible thing. The worst remains. I have lost the
+papers! Whether O'Reilly has them or someone else, I can't get them
+back. Without them, I'm ruined!"</p>
+
+<p>"You shan't be!" Clo cried, twining her thin arms round her idol's
+waist. "You must be saved somehow. We've got till ten o'clock to think."</p>
+
+<p>"If I were the only one, it wouldn't matter so much," Beverley said.
+"But there's somebody who can be tortured as well as killed, if I have
+no bribe to offer. Those papers gave me all the power I had."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't money...." Clo began, but Beverley cut her short.</p>
+
+<p>"No money I could get would be of any use," she said. "A million might
+be!"</p>
+
+<p>"See O'Reilly and make him give up the papers!" cried Clo. "Oh, but is
+he in New York?"</p>
+
+<p>"He doesn't live in New York, but he's here now. I know, because that
+man you saw, Peterson, told me. It was part of a threat he held over my
+head that O'Reilly and some people connected with him should be in town
+just now. I know the hotel he's staying in, the Dietz. But even if
+O'Reilly would come, how could I see him without Roger knowing? It
+wouldn't be possible!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll somehow make O'Reilly come," the girl promised. "I don't know how,
+yet, but I know I will, if you can get Mr. Sands out of the house."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley shuddered. "How horrid that sounds ... as if I were plotting
+against him, the way women do who deceive their husbands."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, anyhow, if O'Reilly took the papers, would he still have them, do
+you think?" asked Clo, with the sudden eagerness of one who catches in
+desperation at a new idea.</p>
+
+<p>"It's just possible. I can see a reason why he might have been asked to
+keep them," Beverley answered.</p>
+
+<p>"If that's so, would he put them in a bank, or a safe somewhere, or
+would he bring them to New York?"</p>
+
+<p>"There might be a special motive for him to bring them to New York ... I
+think there would be a motive."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it seems to me, the sort of man I imagined he is, would be too
+smart to have such things on him if he came to your house, and didn't
+mean to give 'em back to you. It would be tempting Providence, so to
+speak!"</p>
+
+<p>"If I were the kind of woman he thinks I am, he'd not expect me to stop
+short of murder to get those papers," and Beverley laughed a bitter
+little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Good! If he comes to you and leaves the papers at his hotel, a certain
+thing will happen, but it's safer for you not to know&mdash;till afterward."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BLUFF THAT FAILED</h3>
+
+
+<p>"You must tell me!" Beverley insisted. "Tell me at once!"</p>
+
+<p>"While Mr. O'Reilly is here with you, Miss Riley without the 'O', will
+be at his hotel, in his room, helping herself to his&mdash;I mean
+your&mdash;papers."</p>
+
+<p>"My child, you're mad!" Beverley gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so mad as <i>he</i>'ll be when he finds out," crowed the girl. "Hurray!
+The whole business is settling itself in my head. The one trouble is Mr.
+Sands. The rest will be all right. Think what to do about him, Angel;
+think hard!"</p>
+
+<p>Beverley thought until her brain whirled.</p>
+
+<p>"I might suggest Roger's dining at his club," she said. "But how I
+should hate to do that! He's vexed already. He has a right to be! This
+afternoon he gave me a wonderful present, a rope of pearls that belonged
+to a Queen. It must have cost a quarter of a million! I hardly stopped
+to thank him, I was in such frantic haste to get the envelope to you.
+The rope caught in the key of a drawer; the string broke, and a lot of
+pearls ran all over the carpet. I didn't wait to pick them up. I ran
+down to you, and I was gone so long Roger went to my room to look for
+me. I came back and found him picking up pearls. I felt my excuses did
+more harm than good. Roger pretended that he had an engagement. I saw by
+his face he wanted to walk off his anger in the fresh air. If he does
+walk it off&mdash;if he comes back ready to make up, and I send him away
+again, perhaps that will finish it! Things may never be the same between
+us any more!"</p>
+
+<p>"He was angry because you didn't seem to care enough for his present,"
+said Clo. "But if you can get him out of the house for an hour or so,
+and at the same time prove that you adore the pearls; how does that plan
+strike you?"</p>
+
+<p>"How could I do both?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beg him to go fetch a pearl-stringer, and bring her back here himself,
+to-night. Say you can't rest or sleep till the pearls are restrung."</p>
+
+<p>"You forget it's Sunday, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't forget. But I know a pearl-stringer. She isn't just any old
+pearl-stringer, who might thread on a wax bead here and there, and keep
+a pearl or two up her sleeve. She's the best pearl-stringer in New York.
+The big jewellers and lots of swell society women have her. It's queer
+the way I came to know her, but it makes it good for us. We were
+crossing a street, she and I. I didn't know the woman from Adam&mdash;Eve, I
+mean. But it was slippery, and she missed her footing. I dragged her
+back, just in time, and held her up. She's a little woman, no bigger
+than me, or I couldn't have done it. But I got her on the sidewalk
+again, and she was grateful. She's Irish, too, and she invited me to go
+and see her the next Sunday. It's out at Yonkers, where she lives, in a
+nice little house she's bought. I went there once. She said if she could
+do some favour for me, she'd love to. But it's no favour I'll be asking,
+except for her to come out on a Sunday evening. So the only thing is to
+fetch her. Do you think Mr. Sands will go?"</p>
+
+<p>"It depends upon how he feels when he comes in," said Beverley. "But
+Sister Lake would never let you out again."</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't ask her. I'll get up and dress while you see if Mr. Sands is
+back. If I hear from you that all's well, I'll slip out before Sister
+comes."</p>
+
+<p>"Clo, you're wonderful!" Beverley exclaimed. "How can I thank you
+enough?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks from you to me! That's good! Just wait, Angel, anyhow, till I've
+done something. Oh, I forgot to give you the pearl-stringer's address.
+It's Miss Blackburne, 27 Elm Street, Yonkers. And tell Mr. Sands to
+mention my name. It might make a difference. She doesn't like leaving
+her mother in the evenings, but she'd do it for me."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley was gone for fifteen minutes. When she flew in again she was
+surprised to see Clo in bed as before. But hardly was the door closed
+when the girl threw back the coverlet, to show that she was fully
+dressed.</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid Sister might pop in&mdash;by an evil chance," she explained.
+"I've only to put on my hat. Well, is it all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Roger will go," said Beverley. "He's 'phoning now for his car. I'm
+putting off dinner till half-past eight so he can have plenty of time to
+get home and change. He didn't make any difficulty when I told him about
+the pearl-stringer and wanting her at once. He agreed with me that it
+would be best to do such an errand himself, if it were to be done. And
+he was very kind. But his manner was different. I'm frightened."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be," said Clo. She was up now, had pinned on the pretty white
+hat, and was fastening her smart little cape. "I'll go first to the
+Westmorland and see our man; he said he'd be in, waiting till ten. I'll
+tell him things are in train, but he must give you till midnight, if
+necessary. From there perhaps I can 'phone the Dietz Hotel. It wouldn't
+be safe here. By that time O'Reilly ought to be in his room dressing for
+dinner. He'll see me, I'm sure, and the rest will arrange itself. Now,
+I'm off before Mr. Sands' automobile comes, or Sister Lake. If she finds
+the door shut and all quiet she'll think I'm asleep. Go back to your
+husband, Angel, and I'll slip away on my little jaunt."</p>
+
+<p>"I've brought money for you," said Beverley. "Take this purse. There's
+change for taxis and lots of bills besides&mdash;fifty or sixty dollars."</p>
+
+<p>Two minutes later Clo was in the street. The first thing that happened
+to her was a small piece of luck. She had been dreading the walk to a
+taxi-stand, when she saw a car about to drive away from a house near by.
+It was a public vehicle. Clo hailed the chauffeur and gave the
+Westmorland as her destination.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Peterson" was in, according to promise.</p>
+
+<p>"You again, is it? I looked for Mrs. Sands," he grumbled.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm her messenger for the second time," said Clo, "and probably I shall
+be for the third, when it comes to settling up. If you get what you
+want, it doesn't matter who brings it, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you suppose wrong. My business is with a woman, not a kid! All the
+same, if you've got anything for me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't&mdash;yet!" Clo snapped him up. "It isn't time. But I'm on to
+where the thing is, and how to get it. Only it may take till after ten
+o'clock. That's what I came to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Save your breath! Ten o'clock's the time. If she doesn't want me to go
+back on my bargain she'd better not go back on hers."</p>
+
+<p>He looked more than ever like a ferret, the girl thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Sands made no bargain as to time," she said. "And talking of time,
+what about the time <i>you've</i> done?"</p>
+
+<p>Peterson gave a cackling laugh. "What's the female for 'Smart Aleck'?"
+he sneered. "Guessed by my complexion, did yuh? Well, I don't need to
+make no secret of it. My gardeens wished me good-bye and Lord bless me
+when the nine months they run me in for was up."</p>
+
+<p>Clo thought she could come close to guessing what the charge had been,
+and it would have needed more than the word of a ferret to assure her of
+his "innocence." The man was a born sneak-thief or pickpocket. His hands
+were slim and small as a girl's. Perhaps if temptation had been put in
+his way while he "waited at the newsstand" for Beverley, all those
+months ago, he had been unable to resist and thus had missed his
+appointment. Not that the girl much cared as to this detail; it was not
+her affair. But it was odd, almost "creepy," how the links were being
+joined together in the chain of evidence against O'Reilly, the man who
+had followed Angel into the Limited&mdash;the man against whom Clo had
+presently to try her wits. What concerned her most was that her first
+attempt at bluff had failed. Something in Peterson's manner forced her
+to believe that he had indeed served out his full sentence, and for the
+moment had nothing to fear from the police. Clodagh hid her
+disappointment with a little swagger.</p>
+
+<p>"It suits us just as well as you, to finish up at ten o'clock and get it
+over," she said. "If we can, we will. If we can't, you'll have to wait.
+The way things are, you have to be in with us, you see, not against us."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do I? I ain't so sure!" he flung back. "I ain't sure my fine
+madam's not in the game t'other way round&mdash;and her husband, too. I know
+now that she and Roger Sands travelled in the same train from where she
+started. Blowed if I see why she'd do it, but it might be they fixed a
+frame-up between them. I can see why it would suit Sands, if it wouldn't
+her, and a man's stronger than a woman. Sands was working for John Heron
+at the time. That means a lot."</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't mean that Mrs. Sands would be disloyal to her word. I know
+she's true as steel," Clo insisted. She spoke crisply, but her thoughts
+wandered. They had caught at the name of John Heron; Beverley had never
+mentioned it. The girl had no means of guessing how it might bear upon
+the case now in her small, determined hands. She did not see how, or
+where, she could have heard it before, yet it did not sound strange to
+her. The feeling she had on hearing it puzzled and even thrilled her
+vaguely. It was as if the name, "John Heron," had been whispered into
+her ear in a dream&mdash;a dream not forgotten, but buried under other things
+in her brain. The girl was suddenly alert. There was only one fact which
+she grasped with straining certainty. In that buried dream there were
+other sounds connected with the whispered name: sounds of sobbing, as of
+someone crying in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow," Peterson went on, "there was a frame-up, and those that was in
+it has got to pay me for what I went through. That's partly why I'm here
+in Noo York. If I don't have those papers by ten I'll show up at the
+Sands flat and ask for the missis."</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't find Mr. Sands at home," the girl cut in. "He's out. When
+he comes back he's likely to go away again at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, he is, is he?" echoed Peterson. His personality waked up
+secretively, like that of some weak, night animal hiding in a wood. Clo
+eyed him, striving to make him out.</p>
+
+<p>"Better go home, kiddy," he advised. His tone was good-natured. "Shall I
+see you back to where you live, or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I have another errand to do," the girl announced with dignity. She had
+meant to telephone from the Westmorland to the Dietz, and learn if
+Justin O'Reilly was in; but now she determined not to do so. Better
+waste a little time rather than Peterson should hear her inquiring for
+O'Reilly. Instead of waiting to telephone, she walked to the door and
+asked a half-baked youth in hotel livery to call her a taxi.</p>
+
+<p>"If ferret-face tries to follow I'll lead him a dance!" she thought. But
+ferret-face seemed to read her mind, and be willing to relieve it.</p>
+
+<p>"So long!" he said. "I've got a job o' work, too. It will take me till
+about ten. After that I shall be lookin' for a call from you or her
+ladyship."</p>
+
+<p>He turned his back and sauntered to the elevator. Before the taxi had
+arrived he had been shot up to regions above.</p>
+
+<p>"So that's all right!" Clo muttered to herself, spinning toward the
+Dietz. Yet, as she said the words, she wondered if it <i>was</i> all right.
+Why had Peterson's whole personality made a kind of "lightning change"
+on hearing that Sands (whom he expressed a wish to see) would not be at
+home that night? Ought she to 'phone to Beverley and put her on guard?
+Yes, she would telephone from the Dietz, while waiting to see O'Reilly.
+It would be safe, because Roger by this time should be far away.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BLUFF THAT WON</h3>
+
+
+<p>Justin O'Reilly had a modest suite in the magnificent Dietz. It adjoined
+the luxurious suite of Mr. and Mrs. John Heron, and consisted of a small
+sitting-room, a bedroom, and bath. He was tying his necktie when the
+telephone bell rang. He grabbed the receiver as if it were a snake that
+had to be throttled, and gave it a grudging "Hello!"</p>
+
+<p>"A lady to see you," a voice answered.</p>
+
+<p>"She wasn't told I'm in, I hope? A nice thing for a well-regulated hotel
+if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but she says it's important. She's Miss O'Reilly."</p>
+
+<p>Miss O'Reilly! The man of that name was perplexed. The only Miss
+O'Reilly who, as far as he knew, could possibly call on him, was the
+last woman he would have expected to do so. He had come to New York
+largely in the hope of seeing her. She had refused to see him.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell her I'll be down in three minutes," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"She particularly doesn't want you to come down. She says she has some
+private news for you, and asks if you'll see her in your own
+sitting-room."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he tried to answer calmly. "Have the lady shown up."</p>
+
+<p>He rushed back into his bedroom to wrestle once more with the tie. He
+must be ready to receive Miss O'Reilly at the door, and his waistcoat
+and coat were yet to put on. But it could be managed. The suite was on
+the fifteenth floor, and a full minute's walk from the lift for an old
+person like Miss O'Reilly. Bungling everything in his haste, he tried to
+think what it might mean. It looked as if she must have changed her
+mind, and be ready to sell him her house, the dear old house on which he
+had set his heart. Perhaps she would demand a higher price than he had
+offered. Well, he must pay it somehow. Heron would lend him the
+money&mdash;but no, there were reasons why O'Reilly didn't wish to accept
+favours from Heron, often as they had been pressed upon him. As he
+slipped into his coat, he heard the expected rap at his sitting-room
+door, and hurried to open it. A page-boy, acting as guide, had run ahead
+of the lady, to knock.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss O'Reilly to see Mr. O'Reilly," he announced, with Irish relish of
+the Irish name. Then he erased himself. O'Reilly stood on the threshold,
+waiting for the right lady to appear, and meanwhile dodged back from the
+wrong one, a small, slim flapper in white, who for some reason had
+paused before his door. She stood quite still, and stared up at him
+unwinkingly, as a child stares.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," O'Reilly said, wanting to laugh. "May I pass? I
+must look for a lady who&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm the lady," the creature in white intervened. "That is, I am if you
+are Mr. O'Reilly."</p>
+
+<p>"O'Reilly's my name," he admitted. "But I was expecting&mdash;or&mdash;perhaps my
+cousin sent you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I am your cousin," suggested the girl who (Justin saw, now that
+he looked her deliberately in the face) had the biggest, blackest eyes,
+and the whitest skin he had ever seen. She had, also, red hair under a
+fetching hat. Although the child was no beauty, she had an amusing,
+elfin air.</p>
+
+<p>"Delighted, I'm sure," he felt obliged to answer. "I thought I had only
+one cousin in the world, Theresa O'Reilly, of Gramercy Park. But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds like the chorus of a song; 'Theresa O'Reilly, of Gramercy
+Park,'" Clo was unable to resist remarking, with her strongest brogue.
+"Will you please ask me in?" she said. "My errand's very pressing."</p>
+
+<p>Mechanically the man stepped aside and let her walk into the room. He
+began to suspect that he had been "spoofed." He did not invite the young
+person to be seated, but looked at her expectantly. Her first move was
+to shut the door. She did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"May I know your name?" he inquired, as they faced each other.</p>
+
+<p>"The same as yours, but for a letter or two," said Clo, marking time.
+"That's why I may be a cousin; one never knows. I didn't come to talk
+about the family tree, though, Mr. O'Reilly. I came to beg&mdash;not for
+money, so don't be frightened."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not conscious of fear," laughed O'Reilly. He couldn't help
+laughing. He didn't believe the girl's name was the "same as his." "If
+I'm not afraid, I am curious," he confessed. "What are you going to beg
+for, if not money? Is this a message from my cousin&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>Clo ceased suddenly to be impish. She had got into the enemy's fastness
+by her impishness, but she could go no further on that line. This man,
+being the exact opposite of the type expected, upset her plan. A big
+danger was that she might like this O'Reilly instead of hating him, he
+was so pleasant and gallant-looking, more a protector than a persecutor
+of women. She might hesitate to cheat or trick him in whatever way came
+handy, and thus fail the Angel on top of all her boasts. In her hot
+little heart Clo prayed for the wisdom of the serpent, and as her elfin
+face took on anxious lines, she became more interesting to O'Reilly. Her
+white face looked pinched and desperate. "If I were Marat, and she
+Charlotte Corday," was the thought that jumped into his head, "she would
+stab me."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a good thing for me you have a cousin, or maybe you wouldn't have
+let me in. I know now why God gave me the name of Riley. I guess he'll
+forgive me for borrowing the 'O.' I was obliged to get to you somehow.
+That was the one way I could think of."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a pretty smart way," O'Reilly flattered her. "But you haven't
+told me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I will. Only&mdash;I think I'll have to sit down. I feel rather&mdash;queer&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good lord! You can't faint here!"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't, unless you make me, I'll promise that!" She had her cue now.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, for heaven's sake!" said O'Reilly, pulling up the biggest
+chair in the room. Clo sank into it. Closing her eyes, she drew in a
+gasping breath which made her girlish bosom heave.</p>
+
+<p>The man stood by, feeling absurdly helpless.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I ring for brandy?" he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;please!" She opened her great eyes again. "Only listen. I've come
+from Mrs. Roger Sands&mdash;to beg you for those papers of hers."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Roger Sands! Her papers? I know nothing of any papers belonging to
+Mrs. Roger Sands," O'Reilly exclaimed. "What papers are you talking
+about?"</p>
+
+<p>"The ones you hired a man to steal when the train got to Chicago."</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly started. "Whose accusation is that?" he asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Not hers; it's mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Yours! Once again, who are you? What are you in this?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm nobody! I'm only&mdash;a lion's mouse."</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly did not ask what it meant to be a lion's mouse. He understood.
+His mind was not less quick than hers.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm the net you hope to gnaw! Miss Mouse, your little teeth will
+find me tough. I may say I'm a patent, ungnawable net. The best thing
+for you is to go home as fast as you can and tell those who sent
+you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I sent myself," Clo explained, with tired obstinacy. "I told you I had
+to see you somehow. Oh, Mr. O'Reilly, you don't look the sort of cruel
+pig I thought you would be. If you dreamed what Mrs. Sands is going
+through you'd give her back the papers. Don't pretend not to know what I
+mean."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't pretend anything," O'Reilly said. "I do know what you mean, and
+I got the documents (which were not the property of Mrs. Sands) more or
+less as you think I got them. But no mouse, no mastodon could induce me
+to hand them over to your friend."</p>
+
+<p>Clo's eyes travelled over his person. He looked slim and soldierly in
+his well-made evening clothes. There could be nothing thicker than a
+watch, and that a thin one, in his pockets.</p>
+
+<p>"If you would see Mrs. Sands, maybe you'd change your mind," she
+pleaded, in her creamiest Irish voice. "Take me back to her, and take
+the papers along. Then, if you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't do either," was O'Reilly's ultimatum. "I'll take you downstairs
+and put you in your car if you've got one, or a taxi if you haven't.
+But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have to take me home," said Clo. "I won't try to start without
+you. I've gone through enough. I'll just let myself collapse. I promised
+not to faint unless you made me. Now you are making me."</p>
+
+<p>"You deserve to be thrown out of the window!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have been, once," the pale girl announced. "It was four storeys up,
+and all my ribs were smashed. This is my first day out of bed. I thought
+I could manage it, if you were kind. I'd gladly die for Mrs. Sands. And
+if I do&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Brace up!" O'Reilly cried. "I'll take you home. I know where the house
+is. I passed it this afternoon. There was a man who&mdash;&mdash;But no matter.
+Have you got a car below?"</p>
+
+<p>Clo was almost past answering; almost, not quite. But weakness was her
+"cue," as well as the line of least resistance. Having now an incentive
+to let herself go rather than "brace up" as O'Reilly urged, she enjoyed
+collapsing. Yet something within was on guard, and knew that O'Reilly
+had to be watched.</p>
+
+<p>He dashed to the telephone and ordered a taxi. Then he returned to the
+girl in the chair. Her eyes were half shut, a rim of white showing
+between the lashes. The man could not help believing the queer story she
+had gasped out, about the fall, and the broken ribs, and this being the
+first day she had left her bed. That would account for her thinness and
+paleness. He touched her hand, which hung over the arm of the chair.
+There was no glove on it, and the pathetically small thing was icy cold.</p>
+
+<p>"She's fainted, fast enough," he growled. Clo heard the words dimly, as
+though she had cotton wool in her ears. Her duty was to trick the man,
+but she didn't like doing that duty.</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly gently laid down the tiny paw he had taken in his. It was limp
+as the hand of a dead girl. Clo would have felt less compunction if he
+had dropped it roughly. He took a few brisk steps, as though he had come
+to some decision. She forced herself back from the brink of
+unconsciousness to realize that he was going toward the door&mdash;not the
+outer door, through which she had entered, but another. He opened this,
+and Clo saw that beyond was a bedroom. Quickly he went to a table where
+stood a tall glass jug filled with crushed ice and water. His back was
+turned to the girl as he began pouring the jug's contents into a
+tumbler, but suddenly, as if on a strong impulse, he turned. Clo did not
+even quiver. Something told her that the thing she had prayed for was
+about to happen.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2>
+
+<h3>O'REILLY'S WAISTCOAT POCKET</h3>
+
+
+<p>O'Reilly's first look into the sitting room was not for the girl.
+Involuntarily, it seemed, he sent a lightning glance to the left, to
+that side of the room farthest from the big chair where she sat. Clo's
+desperate need to know what was in his head inspired her with
+clairvoyance. Consciousness lit her brain once more. She was sure that
+she had read his thoughts. He feared that after all she was fooling him.
+He was saying in his mind: "What if she meant me to go and fetch this
+water while she looks for what she wants to find?"</p>
+
+<p>Now Clo was certain at last, not only of his having the papers, but that
+they were in the room, somewhere on that left side, where his glance had
+flashed. It was hard to keep still, without the flicker of an eyelash;
+but she believed, as O'Reilly came back to her, that she had stood the
+test of his stare.</p>
+
+<p>He moistened his handkerchief, and gingerly dabbed the girl's forehead.
+It was a relief to "come to," to be able to start, and draw a long
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>"There! You're better, aren't you?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she breathed. "I should like to go home, but I'm afraid&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be. I'm going with you," he said. "By this time a taxi's waiting
+for us. Do you think you can walk if I give you my arm?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try," Clo answered, gratefully.</p>
+
+<p>No pretence of weakness was needed. She felt like a rag. O'Reilly took
+her by the hand, and with an arm round the slim waist raised the girl to
+her feet. Once up, she swayed as if she might fall, but he held her
+firmly. "Lean against me," he said, in a kind voice.</p>
+
+<p>She had never before been so near to a man in her life. "You're very
+good to me," she whispered. "I should like you, please, to remember that
+I thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry I said you deserved to be thrown out of the window," O'Reilly
+absolved himself. "Whatever else you may be, you're a good plucked one.
+Now, here we are at the door. Are you sure you can walk to the elevator?
+Hang on to my arm."</p>
+
+<p>She hung on to it.</p>
+
+<p>They reached the lift, which came to them in a few seconds, unoccupied
+save for the youth who ran it. Clodagh kept up bravely until she was
+seated in the taxi, and could have kept up until the end without too
+great an effort, for her collapse had made her feel rested. It was not,
+however, the girl's m&eacute;tier to "keep up." The task was but half
+accomplished. The hardest part was to come.</p>
+
+<p>She knew&mdash;or thought she knew&mdash;that O'Reilly had the papers, that they
+were in New York; not only in New York, but in his private sitting room
+at the Dietz Hotel. They were in some hiding-place there; and for an
+instant he had feared her knowledge of its existence. He had expected
+her to try, while his back was turned, to steal its contents. Clo's
+nimble brain, deducing all this from what had happened, deduced
+something else as well. The man would have had no fear if the secret
+were impossible for an outsider to learn. It could not be impossible. It
+couldn't even be difficult, if she might have solved the puzzle while
+his back was turned. For her, O'Reilly's uneasiness was a hopeful sign.
+Somewhere on the window side of his private parlour at the Dietz the
+papers which Angel needed were hidden. Each second during the girl's
+slow progress to the lift, her descent, and her short walk to the taxi,
+was spent in sorting out these deductions.</p>
+
+<p>Those big black eyes of Clodagh Riley's had not been given her in vain.
+One swift glance during the cold-water treatment had shown her many
+details useful to remember. On one side of the window was a desk. In the
+desk was a drawer, and the key thereof was in the keyhole. It seemed
+improbable that secret papers should be kept in such a place, but
+circumstances might have forced O'Reilly to leave them there.</p>
+
+<p>On the other side of the window was a kind of buffet, with glass doors
+and shelves and a closed cupboard, but Clo had less hope of this than of
+the desk. There might be a less obvious hiding hole than either, perhaps
+a sliding panel in the wall. There must in any case be a key, and that
+key must be on the person of O'Reilly.</p>
+
+<p>She would have to use all her wits to get it while they were together in
+the taxi! And there was the key of the suite to get also; but that would
+be easier. She had seen O'Reilly take the big key from a table, as they
+went by, slipping it into the pocket of his dinner jacket. Forced to
+support his half-fainting guest, he had not put on an outer coat, so the
+key was within reach of clever and determined fingers. Clodagh's were
+determined, and&mdash;she hoped&mdash;clever.</p>
+
+<p>With this design burning in her head and tingling in her hands, she
+decided to faint again as they started for home, and keep O'Reilly
+occupied every inch of the way.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid&mdash;I'm not so strong&mdash;after all&mdash;&mdash;" she sighed, as the taxi
+door shut, and proceeded to "flop" like a large rag doll. Her head fell
+on the man's breast, and rolled across to his left arm, her hat askew.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very ill," she moaned. "Something hurts so! My hat-pin&mdash;&mdash;" And her
+voice trailed into silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor child!" the man exclaimed, completely taken in at last. The
+hat-pin was sticking in very deep! Not that she minded a little pain.
+But the great thing was to keep O'Reilly's hands busy.</p>
+
+<p>Clumsily, obstinately, he fumbled among the meshes of ostrich plume
+wound around her hat. The head of the pin eluding him there, he tried
+beneath the brim, his fingers tangling in thick waves of hair. They were
+soft waves, softer and silkier than the ostrich plume. No man with blood
+in his veins could have touched them without a thrill. The girl on his
+breast, her face on his arm, one hand holding her up, another caught in
+her hair, O'Reilly was conscious of electric shocks.</p>
+
+<p>His hands and attention thus engaged, Clo got the chance she'd waited
+for. Delicately, stealthily, like the "mouse" she called herself, she
+extracted the door key from O'Reilly's pocket. So far, so good. But the
+next deed would try her mettle. Lightly as a flitting shadow the small
+fingers moved over the man's waistcoat, from the belt line to the
+breast. She could feel his heart thump, and almost started, but
+controlled herself.</p>
+
+<p>Clo had noticed that men often wore a short chain or ribbon, attached to
+a watch, and hanging from the waistcoat pocket with a seal, a society
+badge or a lucky souvenir. O'Reilly wore no ornament of that sort; but
+there was a watch, a thin watch which she could feel through the cloth,
+and some flat object with it. If she could slip a finger into that
+pocket without his knowing!</p>
+
+<p>But now they were in Park Avenue, not far from the imposing apartment
+house at the corner, where Mr. and Mrs. Sands lived. Clo availed herself
+of a slight bump, and showed signs of sliding off the seat. O'Reilly,
+who had just extracted the hat-pin and stuck it into his coat, steadied
+her with an effort. Fortunately there was no need to look out and stop
+the chauffeur. That afternoon O'Reilly had passed the building, informed
+by Count Lovoresco who lived there, and had looked up with a certain
+curiosity. He remembered the number, and in leaving the Dietz had been
+able to give the address.</p>
+
+<p>The taxi stopped, and O'Reilly prepared to carry the fainting girl into
+the house. She would be a light load. As he got out of the taxi with Clo
+in his arms a man came forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you let me help you, sir?" he civilly inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"You may run ahead," said O'Reilly. "I can manage the young lady
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>The man who had offered his services disappeared into the house, and
+found the porter, a substantial person in livery. Clo conveniently
+revived when placed on the seat of the lift. O'Reilly sat by her side,
+supporting the limp body, her hat in his hand, while the porter shot the
+elevator up to the Sands' floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord a'mighty!" the old fellow exclaimed, "if this ain't the poor child
+that's been an invalid all these weeks! Mrs. Sands will be in a way!
+Must be near eight weeks since this little gal was brought in on a
+stretcher, lookin' like dead. She ought to be in bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody should have looked after her," said O'Reilly.</p>
+
+<p>"That's it, sir. Her nurse is out, gaddin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Brute!" Clo heard O'Reilly mutter. And leaning comfortably against his
+shoulder she felt wicked, treacherous, because she had more than once
+applied the same epithet to him. Whatever happened, never would she do
+that again!</p>
+
+<p>The elevator stopped. The porter touched the electric bell at the Sands'
+door, and almost instantly a manservant appeared. His cry of surprise
+brought Mrs. Sands herself out from a room at the end of the hall. The
+porter tried to explain everything; failed; broke off to question
+O'Reilly; O'Reilly answered; Beverley exclaimed; and among them, all was
+confusion. Clo, looking through half-shut eyes over her bearer's
+shoulder, saw a shadow flit between the porti&egrave;res. Had some one come in?
+If so, who could it be? Or was it only the shadow of a blowing curtain
+she had seen? The question did not strike her as important just then,
+for if any one had passed it was doubtless a servant or, at worst,
+Sister Lake. Besides, Clo had much to think of; how to come back to
+consciousness quickly without rousing suspicion, and, when officially
+alive again, how to escape for the next errand.</p>
+
+<p>The rush of air and babble of excited voices gave her an excuse to gasp,
+and stammer out a conventional "Where am I?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll get you to your room, dear," said Beverley; and Clo wondered if
+her acting had deceived Angel. "The butler can&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, thanks, I'll manage her by myself," O'Reilly broke in and carried
+the white bundle along the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"This is her room," Mrs. Sands explained to him. "If you will put her on
+the bed...."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;please! Take me on into the next room, Sister Lake's room. I must
+be there. I'll tell you why presently," the girl pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley threw open the door between the two rooms, hurried ahead, and
+turned on a light.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, lay me on this bed," Clo commanded.</p>
+
+<p>Having obeyed, O'Reilly stood as if awaiting further orders. Clo glanced
+from him imploringly to Mrs. Sands. "I've gone through such a lot!" she
+moaned. "I've suffered so! I felt I could never get home alive. Please,
+Mr. O'Reilly&mdash;you've been kind&mdash;don't let it all be for nothing!"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want of me?" he stiffly inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Only for you to talk to Mrs. Sands. In that next room&mdash;my room. Nobody
+will disturb you. If the nurse comes back, she'll come into her own room
+first. That's why I asked you to bring me to it. I couldn't persuade you
+to give me the papers. Perhaps even Mrs. Sands can't persuade you. But I
+beg, I pray you, to give her the chance. Listen to what she has to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," he answered, grudgingly. "I'll do what you ask. But I'll do
+it for your sake."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley had remained on the threshold of the next room. Now she
+retreated into it. O'Reilly followed; but at the door he turned.
+"Good-bye," he said to Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," she echoed. "And thank you again&mdash;for everything."</p>
+
+<p>She had more to thank him for than he knew&mdash;the contents of her tightly
+clutched hand.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HORIZONTAL PANEL</h3>
+
+
+<p>Following Mrs. Sands, O'Reilly left the door between the two rooms open;
+but Beverley stepped quickly back and closed it.</p>
+
+<p>"She's grand, the darling!" thought Clo. "Trust her to forget nothing.
+Her shutting that door proves how she counts on me."</p>
+
+<p>The girl was deadly tired, and her head ached, yet she struggled up as
+the door clicked. O'Reilly had brought in her hat and dropped it on a
+table. There was no hat-pin, but Clo crushed the soft toque down over
+her masses of red hair, and hoped she was not untidy enough to be
+conspicuous. Unsteadily she tottered to another door&mdash;the door that led
+into the corridor. This faced a narrower passage to the kitchen and
+domestic offices of the flat. Clo would have to take that way because,
+if she ventured into the lift and showed herself in the hall below, the
+porter might take alarm. He might fear that Mrs. Sands' prot&eacute;g&eacute;e was
+trying to escape for some sly purpose of her own, and refuse to let her
+go till he had telephoned upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>In a quaint outside pocket of her new frock Clo had put the purse given
+her by Beverley. Through her adventures she had remembered to make sure
+occasionally that it had not dropped out. Now she opened the purse,
+selecting two ten-dollar bills and two of five dollars.</p>
+
+<p>"That ought to do for 'em all," she said, "even if the lot are at home."
+And, money in hand, she ventured to the kitchen door. Only the chef and
+a woman assistant were at work.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm Clo Riley, the girl Mrs. Sands has been good to," she eagerly
+explained. "I'm well again, and I have to go out. Mrs. Sands has a
+visitor, and I don't like to disturb them. Will you let me down your
+way?" So speaking she laid a ten-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill side
+by side on a table. She made no reference to the money, nor any gesture
+indicating it; nor did the others appear to see it.</p>
+
+<p>The chef escorted her in silence to the servants' elevator. There was a
+button to push, and down the girl went, rejoiced at passing another
+stage of her journey. Five minutes more, and she was in a taxi, tearing
+back to the Dietz Hotel.</p>
+
+<p>This time she marched boldly to a lift in a long row of half a dozen.
+"Fifteenth floor, please," she said, as if she owned the hotel; and was
+taken up without question. "Thanks to my swell clothes!" she thought.
+"Not far would I get in this place if I had on my old black!"</p>
+
+<p>Armed with O'Reilly's key Clo threaded her way through several corridors
+and arrived at the door of his suite. Her fingers shook so that she
+could not find the lock, and as she fumbled for it, the door of an
+adjoining suite opened. The nerve-tried girl started as if she had been
+shot, and dropped the key on the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>"Silly fool!" she scolded herself as she stooped to retrieve it, and to
+hide her face. If only the people (she knew by the voices they were man
+and woman) would pass before she had to look up! But they were in no
+hurry to pass. They had paused in front of their own door, and were
+talking in low tones&mdash;about her, Clo was sure!</p>
+
+<p>In a big hotel, the chances were ten to one against their knowing
+O'Reilly. Raising her head, she tried to eye the pair with airy
+arrogance.</p>
+
+<p>"I mustn't seem to care," she thought, and tried to wither them with a
+look before again attacking the keyhole. The woman was beautiful, a
+glorious, dark creature, gorgeously dressed and jewelled. But oddly it
+was the man who riveted Clo's attention, the man whose eyes gave the
+girl an electric shock. He was a tall, lanky, middle-aged individual,
+with auburn hair and a close-cut red beard streaked with gray. He walked
+with shoulders bent, and had no distinction, despite his well-cut
+evening clothes. But from under a pair of beetling black brows there
+flashed a light which took Clo's breath away. She didn't know what to
+make of his look. It was as if she'd been struck by lightning.</p>
+
+<p>"My goodness, after all he must be a friend of O'Reilly's!" she feared.
+Even that supposition wasn't enough to account for the flash.
+Frightened, she slid the key into the lock, and almost falling into the
+room slammed the door behind her. She did not need to lock it, for
+without a key it could not be opened from the outside.</p>
+
+<p>"I can hold the fort a few minutes now, whatever happens!"</p>
+
+<p>In the corridor John Heron and his wife lingered in front of their own
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if that's not the queerest thing I ever saw or heard of!" Heron
+exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Coming out of their suite, they had caught an impressionist glimpse of a
+figure in white bent over the keyhole, then the figure had stooped for
+the dropped key, and mechanically they had paused in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if she's made a mistake in the room?" Mrs. Heron had
+whispered, and Heron had returned:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think that must be so. She'll find it out and go somewhere else.
+O'Reilly isn't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>There he had stopped short when the girl raised her head to face them;
+and when she presently vanished into his friend's room like a whirlwind,
+he neither finished his sentence nor answered his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Jack?" Mrs. Heron asked. "How odd you look!"</p>
+
+<p>("Jack" was not a nickname that suited Heron, but his wife thought it
+debonair.)</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you speak?" she persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"I was thinking," Heron said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Thinking what we ought to do?" his wife caught him up. "Shall we knock
+and ask O'Reilly if he's ready to go down with us?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. We can't do that."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose not. But weren't you going to say it isn't like O'Reilly to
+have a girl calling on him in his rooms?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't remember what I was going to say," he snubbed her. "It doesn't
+matter, anyhow. After all, why shouldn't he? What is it to us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I feel queer about it," objected Dolores Heron. "The creature may
+be a hotel thief?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" fumed the man. "The girl was a child&mdash;sixteen or seventeen.
+We can't mix ourselves up in such an affair. Let's mind our own
+business."</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't be so cross. I haven't done anything," Dolores reproached
+him. They went down together, and sat side by side on a rose-coloured
+brocade sofa in the immense salon generally known as the "hall." Not one
+of the ladies present was handsomer than Mrs. Heron, not one had more
+beautiful jewels or a more perfect dress, and all the men openly admired
+her&mdash;except her own husband.</p>
+
+<p>Upstairs the girl in question was making the most of every moment. The
+queer little key attached to O'Reilly's watch couldn't belong to the
+desk, still, there might be a box inside the desk which it would fit.
+Clo searched everywhere and everything. At last, it seemed that nothing
+was left to try, when suddenly she recalled a paragraph in a newspaper.
+She had seen it in a Sunday Supplement. Why, yes, Miss Blackburne, the
+pearl-stringer, had given her the paper that Sunday long ago at Yonkers,
+to read on the journey home. The paragraph described the up-to-date
+feature added to some important hotel. Small safes had been placed in
+the walls of rooms for the benefit of guests, each key being different
+in design from every other. Clo could not remember the name of the hotel
+referred to. Perhaps it was this one. If not, the Dietz wasn't likely to
+let a rival get ahead of it. The girl stared at the wall. Any one of
+those panels might conceal a safe! There were lots of panels of
+different sizes, painted a soft gray and edged with delicate white
+mouldings. To test each would take hours (unless she had luck and hit on
+the right one first) for there might be a spring hidden in the flowery
+pattern of the moulding. But&mdash;it was to the left side of the room that
+O'Reilly had flung his anxious glance. She would begin, and hoped to
+end, her work on the left side. A few minutes spent in thinking out the
+situation, however, might save many minutes by and by. About those
+panels, for instance? Which were the most likely to hide a secret?</p>
+
+<p>A frieze or skirting-board of gray painted wood ran round the room to a
+height of three feet above the pink-carpeted floor. Above this frieze,
+distributed at regular intervals, were large plaster panels, two on each
+side of the room, forming backgrounds for gold-framed, coloured prints;
+and between these were small, narrow panels, ornamented with
+conventional flower designs. Beneath and above the latter were panels
+still smaller, placed horizontally, and outlined with white curlicues
+and flutings. They were about four inches in height by ten inches in
+length; and on the left side of the wall there were two.</p>
+
+<p>"Just the right size for nice big jewel boxes," Clo thought. "And the
+lower one's just the right height to open without stretching up. If I
+were putting a safe into a wall that's the place I'd choose!"</p>
+
+<p>She passed her finger round the edge of one, the white-fluted edge,
+rather like the decoration of a fancy cake. Nothing happened. No spring
+clicked. She tried the other with the same result, then stood
+disappointed, only to return to the attack with new inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>"I bet it pulls out!" she told herself. And&mdash;oh, joy, oh triumph!&mdash;it
+did pull out as she pressed her sharp little nails under the white
+fluting. The whole thing came away from the wall like the loose side of
+a box, having been kept in place by thin prongs of metal. Behind this
+cover was a steel or iron door of practically the same dimensions as the
+panel. It also was painted gray, and showed a tiny keyhole like a slit
+made with a pair of sharp scissors.</p>
+
+<p>Clo deposited the cover close by on the desk, where it would be within
+reach if wanted in a hurry. Then she inserted the key attached to
+O'Reilly's watch. It slipped into place. It turned. It opened the small
+iron door, and Clo peered into the aperture. In the receptacle lay a
+pile of greenbacks held together with a paper band. There was also an
+envelope, but not the envelope the girl had pictured. It was larger,
+longer, wider, and thicker. It seemed to be made of coarse linen, and
+instead of the dainty gold seals with the monogram there were five
+official-looking red ones. Clo's heart contracted. It seemed too bad to
+be true. But there was plenty of space in this envelope to contain the
+other, as well as its contents.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to open the thing and look," Clo half decided. But if she
+did, how could she make sure of what she wished to know? If the envelope
+with the gold seals had been removed, she had no means of recognizing
+the documents it had contained.</p>
+
+<p>She took the linen envelope from the safe, and turned it over. Upon the
+other side was an address, written in a strong, peculiar hand: "Justin
+O'Reilly, care of The Manager, Columbian Bank, New York City," she read.</p>
+
+<p>There was just one reason to believe that the envelope contained Mrs.
+Sands' papers; Clo's own strong, instinctive conviction.</p>
+
+<p>Tentatively she pressed one of the seals. It cracked across. Another
+went the same way, and as she touched the third there came a sound of
+talking outside the door. "Open it for me with your pass-key, please," a
+man said. It was O'Reilly's voice.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2>
+
+<h3>"THERE CAN BE NO BARGAIN"</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Beverley Sands had shut the door between Clodagh's room and Sister
+Lake's, she stood silent before Justin O'Reilly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mrs. Sands," he said, "I must congratulate you."</p>
+
+<p>"On&mdash;what?" she stammered. She looked very young and humble, not at all
+the proud princess who had captured Roger Sands against his will.</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly answered, still smiling his cruel smile, "It's not too late for
+congratulations on your marriage, is it? By the way, perhaps one wishes
+well to the bride and congratulates the bridegroom! I mean nothing
+invidious."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean to hurt me all you can!" Beverley cried.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm on the other side, Mrs. Sands."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't I know that!" she answered bitterly. "I've known since I saw you
+on board the Santa F&eacute; Limited that day last September. I expected&mdash;some
+one else, not you. But I guessed in an instant why you had come."</p>
+
+<p>"I accepted the obligations of friendship," O'Reilly deigned to explain.
+"And that brings us to one of the subjects for congratulation: your
+friend. A wonderful young person. I congratulate you highly upon her.
+She informed me that she'd gladly die for you. Judging from her looks,
+she isn't far from doing so. I'm sure you must want to go to her now.
+Oh, by the by, one more congratulation: the pearls."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know?" Beverley forgot her humiliation in sheer amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Weren't you told that Heron was trying to buy them for his wife?"
+O'Reilly waived her question with another.</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed! They were a surprise present to me this afternoon from my
+husband. If I'd known that Mr. Heron...."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't expect me to believe you'd have sacrificed them to Heron, or
+his wife, do you, Mrs. Sands?" O'Reilly laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I almost think I would. I'll give the pearls up to Mrs. Heron if you'll
+do as&mdash;as Clodagh Riley asked you to do. Oh, for pity's sake! I'd pay
+more than the pearls for those papers. I'd pay with my life if that
+would be of any use. I know it wouldn't. But the pearls&mdash;can't we
+bargain with the pearls?"</p>
+
+<p>"We can't bargain at all, Mrs. Sands," O'Reilly said gravely. "I must
+go. I have an engagement to dine with the Herons. I should like to hear
+how my namesake is, and then I will be off."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley had expected little from an appeal to this man's pity, but the
+coincidence of Heron's desire for the pearls was so strange that it
+ought to mean something. It seemed terrible that such a chance should be
+wasted. Could she persuade Roger to let her give up the pearls? O'Reilly
+would look at the wonderful things and report upon their beauty. The
+Herons might be tempted to treat with her. In any case, the scheme was
+worth the trial.</p>
+
+<p>Silently she went to the door that she had closed, and peeped into
+Sister Lake's room. It was no surprise to her that Clodagh should have
+vanished. That was part of the plan. Her exclamation was for O'Reilly's
+benefit.</p>
+
+<p>"The child's gone!" she cried. "That means she's feeling better. She
+must be in my room&mdash;or in my boudoir. Will you come with me? We'll look
+for her. It will be on your way out."</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly followed into the hall. Beverley, thinking quickly, went to the
+door of her own special sitting room, which adjoined her bedroom. A
+backward glance told her that the man had stopped facing the vestibule
+which gave exit from the flat. "Wait one moment," she said. "I'll see
+where Clodagh is." As she touched the door of the boudoir she was
+surprised to find it yielding before she turned the handle. This was
+odd, because she remembered shutting it the last time she came out. She
+had left the room only at the moment when O'Reilly brought in the
+half-fainting girl; and she had been particular to close the door
+because of the pearls. She had placed them on a table in the boudoir,
+ready for the pearl-stringer. Not that she feared their being stolen!
+Her own maid had been sent out for the afternoon. Two of the other
+servants had been given a holiday. Only the butler, the cook, and his
+assistant were at home, and all three had been in Roger's employ for
+years. They were above suspicion, and besides, they knew nothing of the
+pearls. Not a soul knew, save herself, Roger, Clo, and now O'Reilly.
+Roger had started off in his car before she brought the pearls from her
+bedroom into the boudoir. Who, then, had opened the door? Perhaps, after
+all, Clo had not dared attempt the second adventure. Perhaps she was
+still in the flat, and for some reason to be explained later, had taken
+refuge in the boudoir?</p>
+
+<p>A glance, however, showed that the girl was not there. The electric
+light flashed upon a room untenanted. There was the magnificent but
+broken rope in its case, wound in gleaming, concentric circles, the
+unstrung pearls retrieved from the floor grouped together on the purple
+cushion. The door stood open between boudoir and bedroom. Beverley
+thought that this had been shut also, though she was not sure. "Clo!"
+she called softly. There was some slight sound, or she imagined it.
+Quickly she went to the bedroom door, and peeped in, flooding the place
+with light. Clo was not to be seen. Turning off the electricity again
+Beverley went out to O'Reilly in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me one moment," she said. "I've something to show you."</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Is your friend there? Does she wish to speak to me?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Come and see," Beverley persisted. She led the way into the boudoir,
+and reluctantly her companion crossed the threshold. Mrs. Sands pointed
+to the pearls. "I wanted so much to show them to you. See how wonderful
+they are! Mr. Heron's so proud of his wife. I could arrange some plan,
+I'm sure, if&mdash;if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A door slammed, and Beverley's sentence broke off with a gasp.
+Mechanically she shut down the cover of the velvet case. If Roger had
+come back; if, after all, he had only pretended to go for the
+pearl-stringer! She dared not guess what he would think at finding
+O'Reilly with her in his house. Too well she remembered the day of their
+one quarrel, when he had brought up this man's name in connection with
+Clo's, when he had accused her of crying it out in her sleep.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. O'Reilly," she said, very quietly, "that may be my husband coming
+home. If it is, you will have to meet him. It can't be avoided. But I
+should like to speak to him first, if you will wait in this room for a
+moment."</p>
+
+<p>Without giving him time to answer she ran out. Minutes passed. Justin
+heard voices, women's voices. One, it seemed to him, was raised in
+anger. After all, it couldn't be Sands who had come! O'Reilly grew
+impatient, and fumbling for his watch he found it gone. Great Scott!
+Stolen! He remembered a certain small key attached to the chain. In a
+flash of enlightenment the whole plot mapped itself out before his eyes.
+Furious, his impulse was to dash from the room and denounce the chief
+culprit. But Beverley Sands' appeal to his chivalry stopped him like a
+chain round his feet.</p>
+
+<p>Now she called his name, and he opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"It was my friend's nurse who came in," she said. "She threatens to
+leave at once. I must talk with her, try to soothe her down before my
+husband comes. He hasn't arrived, after all&mdash;and may not for a long
+time. But the way I felt when I thought he was here, shows me I oughtn't
+to keep you. Tell me once and for all before you go, now you've seen the
+pearls; is there any hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"None whatever," O'Reilly cut her short. "I'm going, Mrs. Sands. You
+need have no fear of me where your husband's concerned, though I
+understand now exactly why I was brought here, why I was kept till you
+were afraid to keep me longer. Your little friend is as smart at picking
+pockets as she is at acting. Again, I congratulate you upon her. But the
+effort's going to be wasted. Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley stood still, and let him go. She had no answer to make.
+Precisely what he meant by his accusation she did not understand, but
+she knew that, while she detained him, Clo had indeed dared the great
+adventure. For a moment Beverley thought of the pearls almost with
+distaste. That they should come to her to-day, when she cared for
+nothing in the world but the lost papers, was an irony of fate. She did
+not return to the boudoir. She forgot the mystery of the open door, and
+neglected to close it. She was nervously anxious to excuse herself to
+Sister Lake. Above all, it was her duty to defend Clo. She must confess
+that it was upon her errand the girl had defied authority.</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't blame the child," she pleaded. "She knew I needed
+something done for me&mdash;a thing I couldn't do myself. So she made this
+sacrifice. You must forgive us both."</p>
+
+<p>But Sister Lake was not to be placated. If Miss Riley were well enough
+to do Mrs. Sands' errands by day and night, a nurse's services were no
+longer needed. Sister Lake considered herself well paid, and would
+accept no present in addition. The butler was summoned to call a taxi
+and attend to sending down the small luggage. Meantime the Queen's
+pearls were forgotten.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE STONE COPING</h3>
+
+
+<p>This was bad luck! Clo had not expected O'Reilly to track her down so
+soon. But he was at the door. There was only that frail barrier of wood,
+and the space of a few seconds between them! He had discovered the loss
+of his door key, and doubtless the other loss as well. He had guessed
+who was the thief, and what was the thief's motive. He had hurried home.
+A moment more&mdash;just the little delay of fitting in a pass key&mdash;and he
+would catch the culprit red-handed; he would deprive her of the spoils!</p>
+
+<p>Clear as a "cut in" from some moving picture, a scene rose before
+Clodagh's eyes. She saw herself at grips with O'Reilly. She saw him
+wrench the envelope from her hands as she resisted. She saw herself
+sobbing over her failure and Angel's lost hopes. That picture mustn't
+come true! The key attached to the watch-chain, she had removed from the
+safe door, and had laid watch and all on a buffet. Beside them she had
+placed the door key. Now, as the chambermaid chattered in the corridor,
+and O'Reilly made light of his loss, Clodagh moved faster than any
+figure in a moving picture. She snatched up everything on the buffet,
+pushed all into the safe, softly shut the steel door, concealed it with
+the panel which slipped readily into its groove, and fled into the
+adjoining bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>Lights from across a court showed that the sole doors were those of a
+bath and a clothes-closet. There was no way out from the bedroom.
+Entrance and exit to the suite were to be had only through the sitting
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"I might have known," Clo reflected. Too late she recalled that through
+the nearest door had appeared the couple in evening dress. She was
+caught like a mouse in a trap (poor mouse, who had meant to gnaw the
+encircling net!) caught unless&mdash;unless! Her heart gave a leap as she saw
+the one way out.</p>
+
+<p>The night was warm, and the window had been opened wide to let in the
+blue dusk. Light from opposite windows giving on the court shone upon a
+stone coping. It was broad, as copings go, broad enough for some white
+roses dropped from a window above to lodge without falling farther. It
+was this conspicuous splash of white on the dark stone which put into
+Clo's mind the word "unless."</p>
+
+<p>The chambermaid was rattling her pass key in the lock. If the thing were
+to be done, it must be done now! Yes, that stone coping ran all the way
+along under O'Reilly's window as well as those opposite. It was quite
+fourteen or fifteen inches in width, Clo thought, and was placed twice
+as many inches below the window sill. It would be easy to step down on
+to the ledge; and only a short distance away was the window of the next
+room, a room in the suite occupied by the couple she had seen. That
+window was open, like O'Reilly's. Clo could be sure of this, because the
+lace curtains were blowing out in the draught from some other window.
+They were of thick lace covered with embroidery, and if one could catch
+hold of a curtain as it blew the stuff wouldn't tear. As for the stolen
+envelope, it was safe in one of those odd, new-fashioned pockets of
+hers. Hastily she made it more secure with a big pin, by which she
+fastened it to the cloth of her dress. Thus both hands were free. But it
+took courage to start!</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I must, I must do it!" she thought, her body ice, her soul aflame.
+"It's for Angel! If I don't look down, I shall be all right. And even if
+I fall and smash like an egg I'll be no worse off than before she saved
+me. I'll be back just where I was that day."</p>
+
+<p>Uninvited, the chambermaid had followed O'Reilly into the next room. She
+was talking volubly, hoping that he'd mislaid the door key, that it
+hadn't been stolen. Clo, in making her dash for the bedroom, had quietly
+closed the door between, but she could hear that the two were talking.</p>
+
+<p>Anyhow, the girl tried to think, it was the first step that cost! Once
+outside the bedroom window, plastered against the wall, the danger of
+being caught was over. O'Reilly would search the clothes-closet, and
+peer into the bath. Then he would suppose that the bird was already
+flown. Never would he dream that a girl would dare what she meant to
+dare.</p>
+
+<p>Oddly enough, that reflection decided Clo to act. For the moment, fear
+left her free. She stepped briskly over the window sill with one foot,
+and landed on the ledge. It felt solid, almost comforting; but as she
+groped for it with the other foot, horror caught her again, poured
+through her veins like iced water and made her heart feel a dead thing.
+She tried not to think of anything except that kind curtain flapping in
+the wind. She clung to the window-frame with fingers so damp that they
+slipped on the stone. Holding on for dear life&mdash;yes, life was dear, now
+it hung by a thread!&mdash;she edged along, her cheek scraping the wall as
+she moved. One step, two, three&mdash;another would take her so far that she
+must let go of the window frame. Could she reach the blowing curtain? A
+few moments ago it had seemed to beckon. Now she depended on it the
+white folds eluded her hand. If the wind dropped, she was lost. She
+couldn't help thinking of all the things she wished not to think of. She
+thought of that immense depth below her narrow perch. She didn't believe
+the man or woman lived strong-minded enough to forget it!</p>
+
+<p>As she reached out with her free arm for the curtain, a light sprang up
+from the room she had left. O'Reilly was there, searching for her. It
+had been simple to say, while she stood on a solid floor, that he would
+not look out of the window. But he might look out: he might hear her
+feet shuffling along the ledge. If his head appeared now, she would
+fall.</p>
+
+<p>The girl began to shake all over like a winter leaf on a high branch.
+She would have to go, she thought. But the curtain was blowing very
+near, so near that she ventured another step. The lace brushed her
+fingers. With a last effort she grasped a fold. Courage came back. Now
+she had let go of O'Reilly's window frame. She had passed on beyond hope
+of return, and yet she had no firm grasp upon the curtain. Before it
+could give the support a rope gives a climber, she must slowly,
+patiently, draw it toward her inch by inch until she had it taut.</p>
+
+<p>"Angel, are you praying for me?" she wondered. Because she could not
+pray for herself. She could only count. Dimly, she felt it odd that it
+should calm her nerves to count each time her fingers closed upon the
+curtain. But it did calm them.</p>
+
+<p>"Seven, eight, nine, ten." The fold of lace began to be taut. Drawing it
+toward her, she started on once more on that endless journey of a few
+inches. Thank heaven, the light in O'Reilly's bedroom had been switched
+off. The man must have given up the chase, and gone back to the sitting
+room. For the present she was safe from him. But what a queer word
+"safe" was, just then. "Eleven, twelve, thirteen." Thanks to the curtain
+rope, she had almost reached her goal. "Fourteen, fifteen." She had got
+so far that she could let the curtain go and fling her arms over the
+window sill. She threw her body upon it, and lay still for an instant,
+utterly spent now the strain was over. But was it over? No, not yet. If
+her feet slipped from the coping, she would have no strength for the
+effort of climbing in at the window. She would hang for a minute and
+then&mdash;drop.</p>
+
+<p>"The papers," she reminded herself, for a mental tonic. "They're so
+nearly safe now. Brace up, Clo! A minute more and you'll be out of
+trouble."</p>
+
+<p>The room beyond was, like O'Reilly's, unlighted. Thank goodness, there'd
+be no squalling lady's maid to give an alarm. Clo allowed herself time
+to breathe, resting on the window sill. Then she prepared to draw
+herself over. Wrapping the curtain round her right hand, and clutching
+the lace firmly with her left hand, she found a heavy piece of furniture
+just inside the window. It seemed to be a dressing-table with a mirror
+suspended between two spiral posts. Grasping one, Clo pulled the table
+closer, till it refused to move. This gave a lever on which she might
+depend. She clung to the curtain and post, till she could plant first
+one knee, then its fellow, on the window sill. It seemed an easy thing
+to do, and would have been easy had not her strength been nearly spent.
+Her quivering muscles responded slowly to this last call, but they did
+respond. Soon she was kneeling on the window sill. Then one foot was
+over, groping for the floor. She had just found it when a key grated in
+a lock, and before she could hide behind the curtains a door opened
+wide. A flood of light streamed in from the corridor, and outlined her
+white form against the blue background of the night.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE NUMBER SEVENTEEN</h3>
+
+
+<p>To go back meant death, and the loss of Beverley's papers. Besides, she
+had been seen. For once, Clo's wits refused to work. Like a frozen
+flower, she remained motionless in the window.</p>
+
+<p>The figure in the doorway was that of a man. The light coming from
+behind made his face a blank for her eyes, but the girl saw that he was
+taller than O'Reilly and of a different build. Perhaps it was the owner
+of the suite, he who had gone out with the beautiful woman. The man made
+no move. He stood in the doorway as if rooted to the floor. "My God!"
+Clo heard him mutter.</p>
+
+<p>"The fool takes me for a ghost," she thought. "Now's my chance, before
+he plucks up courage!"</p>
+
+<p>Down came the other white shoe on the carpet with no more noise than a
+rose-petal falling. Then followed a second of indecision. Should she
+risk pushing the man aside, and fleeing past him into the hall? No, her
+touch would break the spell. She must go on with the ghost-play, and
+vanish in the dark!</p>
+
+<p>Light from outside showed her the open door of an adjoining room. Thence
+came the draught which had set the curtains blowing. Clo took a few
+floating steps toward the man, then dodged aside, and disappeared into
+the room beyond. Softly she closed the communicating door and slid the
+bolt. Almost opposite where she stood opened a cross passage leading to
+a wing of the hotel. With a bound she reached it, not daring to look
+behind, yet listening with the ear of the hunted for the hunter, as she
+ran. Coming to a staircase the girl plunged down it two steps at a time.
+On the floor below, however, she ventured to moderate her pace. This was
+the dinner hour; most of the guests would be in the restaurant, or out
+of the hotel for the evening; but there would be servants about. Clo
+forced herself to descend sedately, flight after flight of stairs, not
+daring to enter a lift. At last, when it seemed that she had come to
+earth from the top of Jacob's ladder, the stairway ended. Timidly
+following a passage that opened before her, she ventured into a wide,
+important hall.</p>
+
+<p>There was a cloakroom in the hall. Ladies were going into it and coming
+out. Clo heard music in the distance and saw a marble balustrade. This
+balustrade was for her a landmark. She knew by it that she must have
+reached the story above the ground floor, and that the large corridor of
+the cloakroom opened on to a gallery overlooking the main hall. She had
+glanced up and admired that marble balustrade when she first entered the
+hotel. She had seen also a wide marble staircase leading up to the
+gallery. It must be near, she thought, but it was a way of exit to
+avoid. If O'Reilly were on guard below, or even if he had merely
+telephoned her description to the office, she and the stolen envelope
+would be promptly nabbed in the hall below. She had dared too much to be
+tamely taken now. Mirrors were let into the panels of the wall, and Clo
+paused before one, pretending to straighten her hat. She wanted time to
+make up her mind.</p>
+
+<p>The ladies who left their wraps in this upstairs cloakroom must be
+dining in private rooms on the same floor, she thought. "Out there in
+the gallery their men will be waiting for them," the girl told herself.
+"And maybe that's where my man is waiting for me!"</p>
+
+<p>One of these ladies, opening a gold chain bag to pull out her
+handkerchief, dropped a bit of paper with a number on it&mdash;Clo's
+favourite number, 17. It fluttered close to her feet; she stooped and
+picked it up. Common sense told her that the numbered slip was a
+cloakroom check. It might mean salvation. She walked leisurely into the
+cloakroom, though her nerves were a-jerk like the strings of a
+jumping-jack. "My cousin has asked me to come and fetch her wrap," she
+explained to a bored attendant. "There's a draught through the dining
+room. This is her check."</p>
+
+<p>The woman accepted it without a word. She presently produced a long wrap
+of black chiffon, lined with blue. "Number seventeen. Here you are,
+miss." So speaking, she removed the duplicate check, which had been
+pinned to a frilled hood of the cloak. At sight of that hood a weight
+lifted from Clo's heart. It was more ornamental than practical, but it
+would be immensely useful to her. If she had been given her choice of
+cloaks, she couldn't have done better. Seventeen was bringing her luck.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I believe I'd better leave my hat!" she said to the attendant, as
+if on a second thought. Unsuspiciously the woman took it, pinned a bit
+of paper to the lining, and handed the duplicate to Clo. "Nobody's got
+seventeen now, so I'll give it to you again." This seemed a good omen:
+seventeen for the second time! With the cloak over her arm she sauntered
+out of the room. Then back she went to the foot of the stairs, where was
+a quiet niche behind a big, potted palm, and close by was one of those
+convenient panel mirrors. Thus refuged, Clo slipped into the wrap, and
+arranged the floppy hood. It was far from becoming, for the frill fell
+almost to her eyes; but it hid the tell-tale red hair, and showed little
+of her face save the end of an impudent nose and the tip of a pointed
+chin. The cloak, made for a taller figure than Clo's, came nearly to her
+feet, and holding it together the white dress became invisible.</p>
+
+<p>"Now for it!" she thought, like a soldier who goes "over the top" to
+charge the enemy. Head down, hood flapping, cloak floating, she sailed
+along the corridor and out into the gallery beyond. Yes, there was the
+marble staircase, and below was the great, bright hall; but in this
+disguise she could pass O'Reilly if he had assembled half the detectives
+in New York. So she tripped down the stairs, sedate, unhurried as the
+care-free girl whose cloak she had borrowed. Arrived in the hall, she
+knew her way out, and could hardly subdue the triumph in her voice as
+she said "Taxi, please," to an attendant porter.</p>
+
+<p>"Where shall I tell him to go, miss?" came the question as she stepped
+into the cab; and for half a second she hesitated. By a clock she had
+seen in the hall it was just half-past eight. There would be time to go
+home, time for Angel to open the envelope and see if the contents were
+right, time to tell Angel her own adventures, and time to rest before
+keeping her tryst with Peterson.</p>
+
+<p>She gave the number of the house in Park Avenue where Roger Sands lived.
+The door of the taxi shut with a reassuring "click." It was heavenly to
+lean back against the comfortable cushions! She ought to be entirely
+happy, entirely satisfied. Perhaps it was only reaction after so many
+hopes and fears, this weight that seemed to press upon her heart. Yet it
+was an obstinate weight. It grew heavier as the taxi brought her nearer
+home.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2>
+
+<h3>A QUOTATION FROM SHAKESPEARE</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Not easily jealous, but, being wrought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perplexed in the extreme."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The words describing Othello's torment rang in Roger Sands' ears.</p>
+
+<p>The words kept time with the purring throb of the motor that sped him on
+his wife's errand. Certain it was that he had not been easily jealous!</p>
+
+<p>He had married a girl with a secret to keep, and he had never questioned
+her. He had made her a queen; and he was her loyal subject. She ruled
+him and his kingdom. Only to-day he had given her a queen's pearls. They
+were his atonement for an hour of distrust. How had she rewarded him?
+Roger reviewed the afternoon, since the presentation of the pearls, and
+there were details which he saw in a new light. So desperate had been
+her mysterious haste that she had broken the rope of pearls, and had not
+even stopped to pick up the scattered splendour.</p>
+
+<p>Roger Sands' heart had been hard toward his wife when they met. He had
+settled upon a policy of silence for the present, while in
+self-protection he watched developments. He agreed quietly to Beverley's
+request that he should fetch the pearl-stringer, though feeling a cold,
+sick certainty of her motive in making it.</p>
+
+<p>He went, as he had given his word that he would go, to 27 Elm Street,
+Yonkers. Miss Blackburne herself answered his ring: and when the name of
+Clo Riley was mentioned, she said at once that she would accompany Mr.
+Sands. Roger was kept waiting only while Miss Blackburne took leave of
+her mother, gathered together her materials, and packed a small bag; for
+it was clear that, if the pearl-stringer were to finish her work in one
+sitting, she would have to spend the night in Park Avenue.</p>
+
+<p>The little woman, whose face seemed almost featureless to Roger Sands,
+was interested in the man as well as in the mission. The pearl-stringer
+had often heard of him in various ways; and her work took her into a set
+who knew, or gossiped, about his private affairs. She had listened to
+women's talk concerning Mrs. Sands, "the girl from nowhere," and, though
+Miss Blackburne was "good as gold," she did enjoy a little spicy
+scandal. She could in future make herself quite interesting to some of
+her regular clients by telling how she had worked for Mrs. Roger Sands;
+and not only for their sakes, but her own, did she look forward to this
+"job."</p>
+
+<p>Secretly, Ellen Blackburne planned some day to write a volume of
+reminiscences, and she had a "feeling," as she sat in discreet silence
+beside Roger Sands in his car, that to-night she would get material for
+particularly good notes. She was conscious that his nerves were tensely
+strung. "It's just as if he were sitting in a thunder cloud charged full
+of electricity, with me getting some of the shocks," she told herself,
+thinking of her notebook, where she would make entries when she got
+home.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly a quarter past eight when Roger's latch-key opened the
+door of his apartment. Miss Blackburne was impressed, not only by the
+magnificence of the hall, but by the originality of its decoration.</p>
+
+<p>Roger, having let himself and the pearl-stringer in with his latch-key,
+regretted that he had done so. He did not want to see Beverley alone
+just then. It would be better to have her summoned by a servant. Miss
+Blackburne was too observant of tiny details not to notice that he
+stepped back and pushed the electric bell outside the door, which he had
+not yet closed. And when he said to the butler: "Please tell Mrs. Sands
+that I have been able to bring back Miss Blackburne," the small student
+of character guessed at once that he wished to avoid meeting his wife.</p>
+
+<p>The hall was large, and furnished like an extra drawing-room, therefore
+it was not inhospitable that Roger should leave the pearl-stringer alone
+there, with the excuse that he must dress for dinner. He was, he
+explained, going to his club. As he made this announcement, however, and
+before the butler could carry the message to Mrs. Sands, a dazzling
+vision appeared. It could be no other, Miss Blackburne felt, than Mrs.
+Sands herself; and she was right, for Beverley had dressed with unusual
+speed, yet with unwonted pains, in order to be ready for Roger's return.</p>
+
+<p>The vision came into the hall before the butler had been able to deliver
+the message, and his wife's arrival whilst the man was present gave
+Roger an opportunity he would not miss. There was a question he wished
+to ask the old servant, in Beverley's hearing, but he had not expected
+the chance to come so soon. The butler retreated, stepping aside
+respectfully to let Mrs. Sands pass. But before the man could efface
+himself, and before greeting Beverley, Roger exclaimed, "Oh, by the by,
+Johnson, has any one been here since I went out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," the butler replied, "one gentleman has been. He&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But the vision intervened. "The gentleman wasn't a visitor, Johnson,"
+she said, a sharp note in her voice, almost an agonized note. "You ought
+to explain to Mr. Sands that he came only to bring Miss Riley home."
+Then she hurried on, snatching the explanation from the servant's mouth,
+though she had ordered him to make it: "The poor child came back quite
+done up, nearly fainting. She had to be helped in, almost carried. The
+man stayed just long enough to hear that she was better. Is it Miss
+Blackburne you've been lucky enough to find, and bring back to me?"</p>
+
+<p>All this rushed out in a breath. The lovely lady in white and silver
+smiled at the small person in brown pongee. But Roger Sands was not a
+man easy to play with.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is Miss Blackburne," he quietly answered. "What was the
+gentleman's name, Johnson? Did you hear it?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a trifling pause while the servant replied. Mrs. Sands was
+still faintly smiling, a mechanical smile, and her eyes were suddenly
+dull as glass.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I believe I heard the name mentioned," Johnson admitted. "I
+thought it was the same as the young lady's; Riley or O'Riley. As Mrs.
+Sands remarks, sir, he wasn't exactly calling, so the name wasn't
+announced. It only reached my ears."</p>
+
+<p>Roger looked straight at Beverley. The gaze was a challenge. "Was it
+Justin O'Reilly who came?" he inquired; and his eyes said: "if your
+conscience is clean, you'll understand that I'm not trying to extract
+any confession. I give you the chance to clear yourself, here and now,
+that's all."</p>
+
+<p>But Beverley's face was flooded with one of her painful blushes, that
+always came when she wanted them least. She realized, too late, that
+Roger had enquired of Johnson because he suspected, perhaps even knew,
+that O'Reilly had been in the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was Justin O'Reilly who came and stopped about ten minutes,"
+she answered, trying to keep her voice as calm as Roger's. "But this
+isn't very interesting to Miss Blackburne. It was good of her to give up
+her Sunday evening! Shall we&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Just a moment, please," Roger broke in, still in that deadly quiet
+voice which, it seemed, could betray nothing to a stranger, but for
+Beverley was a knife at her heart. "I must go out presently. Before
+starting to dress I should like to hear the latest news about your
+prot&eacute;g&eacute;e. She looked all right, and not inclined to faint, when I saw
+her tripping into the house, just before I came in from my walk some
+time ago. By the by I think Mr. O'Reilly must have been with her then.
+He was passing the house, I noticed."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know anything about that," the answer came slowly. "Clo didn't
+mention seeing Mr. O'Reilly at that time. She rested and went out again
+later. Johnson was speaking of her <i>second</i> return."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley knew that her husband could easily have questioned Johnson
+behind her back, and then have entrapped her perhaps, through her
+ignorance of what had passed. He had chosen instead, to be as frank as
+he was hard; and while she suffered, Beverley thanked her husband for
+cold justice.</p>
+
+<p>"I must dress now," Roger said heavily. "I am dining at my club."</p>
+
+<p>Murmuring some civility to Miss Blackburne, Sands turned away. A moment
+more, and his wife heard his bedroom door shut. At the sound it seemed
+that her heart must die in her breast! She felt a sensation of physical
+sickness, and would have given anything not to have the pearl-stringer
+on her hands. Here the woman was, however, and could not be treated with
+discourtesy!</p>
+
+<p>"You will dine with me, of course, before beginning your work," Beverley
+said, trying to be cordial. But Miss Blackburne smiled and shook her
+head. She had had "high tea" at home with her mother, and could eat
+nothing more, she replied, thanking Mrs. Sands.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take you to my boudoir," Beverley said kindly to the little woman
+in brown. "The pearls are there. You'll be surprised at their beauty."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Blackburne let her hostess lead the way. "There's a drama here, all
+right!" she told herself. "Has it anything to do with the pearls? But I
+shall know soon, I bet!"</p>
+
+<p>The Vision opened the door of a charming room. The light was already
+switched on, and the new-comer noticed that a door stood wide open
+between the boudoir and the bedroom, which, also, was lighted. Miss
+Blackburne guessed that Mrs. Sands had only just finished dressing in a
+hurry as her husband came into the house. Perhaps, on account of the
+pearls, her maid had been released from duty. Anyhow, someone had
+forgotten to turn off the lights, and ... but Mrs. Sands herself was
+explaining.</p>
+
+<p>"I left the door open between my room and this while I dressed," she
+said, "because of what you see on this table. I thought it might as well
+be here, as anywhere else, all ready and waiting for you."</p>
+
+<p>She made a nervous gesture, and Miss Blackburne saw on the table
+indicated a large oval case of purple velvet, slightly old-fashioned
+looking, and adorned with a splendid gold crown. The pearl-stringer knew
+something about crowns and coronets: duchesses, countesses, baronesses,
+and small fry like that. But this crown was royal. She was going to get
+good "copy" for her notes!</p>
+
+<p>Beverley's hand moved toward the purple case. She was in a desperate
+hurry to get her business with Miss Blackburne over, and escape into the
+hall again. She must try to have a word with Roger before he went,
+though she dared not&mdash;literally dared not&mdash;go to his room.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll see the pearls, and&mdash;&mdash;" she had begun, when her ears caught the
+sound of an electric bell; a loud, insistent peal.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MYSTERY OF THE BOUDOIR</h3>
+
+
+<p>"It's Roger," Beverley thought. "He's ringing for Johnson&mdash;perhaps to
+ask more questions!"</p>
+
+<p>"I must speak to my husband," she said to Miss Blackburne. "The pearls
+are in that case. There are two hundred and fifty. About thirty came
+unstrung. You'll see for yourself how they ought to be graduated. I'll
+be with you again in a few minutes."</p>
+
+<p>She flew to the hall, hoping to intercept Johnson before he could reach
+Roger's room. But the man was not on his way there. It was the sound of
+the door-bell she had heard. Johnson was in the act of admitting a girl
+in a black chiffon cloak lined with blue. A large frilled hood pulled
+over the wearer's eyes hid the profile from Beverley. The girl turned;
+it was Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go with you to your room," Beverley said, controlling her voice
+for the benefit of Johnson, and trying not to show how frantic was her
+haste. It was only when she had noiselessly closed the door of the big,
+bare room, that she dared let herself go.</p>
+
+<p>"What's happened?" she implored. "Why are you dressed like this? Of
+course you haven't got the papers?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dressed like this to make a get-away," said Clo. "I stole the cloak.
+I'll tell you everything by and by. But first, you must find out for
+yourself whether I've got the papers. I've got something&mdash;something in a
+thick envelope. That's all I know."</p>
+
+<p>She threw off the cloak of the girl at the Dietz, and unpinned the
+pocket which held the precious package&mdash;the pocket which, thanks to the
+pin, had guarded its contents through the whole series of her
+adventures.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley took the large linen envelope, not even thanking Clo. Neither
+noticed the omission.</p>
+
+<p>"Addressed to Justin O'Reilly!" she exclaimed. "It's the right size. But
+what makes you think it may have my envelope inside?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because it was carefully hidden in a safe in the wall. I thought of
+opening it to make sure. There wasn't&mdash;enough time."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll open it ... now!" said Beverley. Her words were firm, yet she
+hesitated, and turning, the envelope over, stared at the five
+official-looking red seals. What if it should contain legal documents
+belonging to some client of O'Reilly's?</p>
+
+<p>"Tap&mdash;tap!" came at the door.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley laid the envelope on the glass table, where Clo's medicine
+bottles once had stood. Over the red seals she flung her handkerchief,
+lest it should be Roger at the door.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Clo had answered the knock and revealed Johnson.</p>
+
+<p>"Madam, the lady who came with Mr. Sands wishes to see you immediately;
+it's very urgent," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>"Say I'll be there in a few minutes," she replied. "I can't come just
+yet."</p>
+
+<p>Johnson departed. "Madam will come in a few minutes," he repeated to
+Miss Blackburne, who had been anxiously awaiting him at a half-open
+door. "I think," he added, "she is busy, miss."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case," suggested the pearl-stringer, "perhaps you'd better call
+Mr. Sands."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, miss, I'll do so." Johnson turned away, and Miss Blackburne
+retreated to the boudoir.</p>
+
+<p>But it occurred to Clo that Roger might be summoned if Beverley delayed.</p>
+
+<p>"Something must be worrying Miss Blackburne," she said. "I wonder if
+it's anything you'd like Mr. Sands to mix up in, or if you'd rather
+attend to it yourself? You know, we've lots of time before ten o'clock.
+If the papers are in this envelope, it's all right. If not, there's
+nothing doing."</p>
+
+<p>Just why Beverley did not want Roger to go to her boudoir she hardly
+knew, unless she feared that a pearl might be missing, and that Roger
+would be more vexed than he was already. Whatever the motive in her
+mind, she felt suddenly impelled to haste. Even with Clo she could not
+leave the envelope. Wrapping it in the handkerchief to hide the address,
+she hurried off with it in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You sent for me, Miss Blackburne?" she asked, as she threw open the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>The pearl-stringer stood by the table, looking pale and strange.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mrs. Sands," she exclaimed, "you told me the pearls were in their
+case, but they're not. I found it empty. You must have laid them
+somewhere else."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley wondered whether she had become temporarily insane, and had
+hidden the pearls in a place already forgotten. But in her heart she
+knew that nothing of the sort had happened.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, answering herself as well as Miss Blackburne, "I didn't
+touch the pearls after I put them away, and brought them in here. Oh,
+please don't tease me! This is too serious!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tease you!" echoed Miss Blackburne. "Why, Mrs. Sands, I wouldn't do
+such a thing! I wish to goodness I'd insisted on your staying till I'd
+opened the case and counted the pearls. I don't think I was ever so
+foolish before! Now, maybe you'll believe that I've sto&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no!" exclaimed Beverley, calmed by the other's distress. "Of course
+I believe nothing so foolish. Even if you&mdash;what nonsense to speak of
+it!&mdash;but even if you wanted the pearls, you couldn't hide them. Let me
+think! Let me go back in my mind over everything that happened. I was in
+the next room practically all the time when I wasn't here. The door was
+open between. I could have seen any one who came in. Oh, the pearls
+can't have been stolen. There's been nobody to steal them."</p>
+
+<p>"What about our little friend, Clo Riley?" Miss Blackburne asked. "Could
+she possibly know anything? Mightn't she help with some suggestion? I
+thought hers one of the brightest, quickest minds I ever met. Indeed, I
+owe my life to its quickness."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley forgot to answer. The pearl-stringer's words had sent her
+thoughts travelling along a new path. Suddenly she became aware that she
+had deceived Miss Blackburne and herself. When she made that statement,
+she had not reflected. Clo's return, in O'Reilly's company, now seemed
+so long ago that she had not cast her mind back so far in connection
+with the pearls. She had thought of what she had done since O'Reilly's
+refusal of her request, and his departure. She had pictured herself as
+having seen the pearls in their case since then. But she had not done
+so. She had seen only the closed case, and had naturally taken it for
+granted that the pearls were in it. As a matter of fact, she had not
+actually seen them since she herself closed the velvet case. Could Clo
+possibly have dashed into the boudoir and hidden the pearls?</p>
+
+<p>"I'll speak to Clo," she finally replied, with a dazed look after a
+silence that puzzled Miss Blackburne.</p>
+
+<p>"Please stay here. I'll be back in three or four minutes, and bring Clo
+with me, if she's well enough."</p>
+
+<p>Clo, denuded of the stolen cloak, had flung herself upon the bed to
+rest, and call back the force of her vitality for a later effort. Her
+nerves were throbbing like hot wires, and she jumped at the opening of
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm glad it's you!" she sighed, at sight of Beverley. "Have you
+opened the envelope?"</p>
+
+<p>"The envelope!" Beverley repeated. "Oh, Clo, I thought nothing on earth
+could have put it out of my head for a second. But Miss Blackburne
+called me to say the pearls have disappeared. I forgot the envelope. I
+must hurry back. Did you do anything with the pearls, on your way out?"</p>
+
+<p>Clo looked aghast. "Good gracious, no!" she cried. "I went through the
+kitchen, and down the servants' elevator. Oh, Mrs. Sands&mdash;Angel&mdash;you
+don't think&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! You're as bad as Miss Blackburne!" Beverley cut her short. "I
+thought that, for some reason, you might have hidden them. Now I know
+you didn't. Clo, this is the most terrible day&mdash;except one&mdash;in my life.
+I must find the pearls or Roger will never forgive me. And only a few
+minutes ago they were nothing, compared with the papers!"</p>
+
+<p>Clo's wits, drowned in horror for an instant, came to the surface again.
+"What if O'Reilly took the pearls for revenge!" she blurted out. "Did he
+know&mdash;was he anywhere near them?"</p>
+
+<p>Beverley, who had been standing by the bed, sank down upon it, and
+stared. "He did know," she said slowly. "And&mdash;and he was alone in the
+room with the pearls for some minutes if I remember rightly. You see,
+Sister Lake arrived. She was angry about your being out. I tried to
+soothe her. It was no use. She left, bag and baggage, in injured
+dignity. O'Reilly was in my boudoir. Oh, Clo, it must be he who took the
+pearls!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl herself had said it: yet, when the words were repeated by other
+lips than hers, it gave her a shock. O'Reilly's face rose before her
+eyes. "I don't believe he did it!" she was surprised to hear her own
+voice cry out aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"You suggested it yourself!" exclaimed Beverley.</p>
+
+<p>"I know," the girl confessed. "The idea popped into my head. But it
+can't be true. He's not that sort, whatever else he may be!"</p>
+
+<p>"He went off furious with you, with us both," Beverley said. "It must
+have been he who stole the pearls. There's a strong motive&mdash;something
+for him to hold over us, and force us to give the papers back."</p>
+
+<p>"If we've got them!" cut in Clo.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley sprang up. "I'm lost in this!" she faltered. "There are too
+many things against me. I can't cope with them all at once. I must go to
+the boudoir and get that envelope, whatever happens."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I do?" asked Clo.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley was already at the door, and had opened it.</p>
+
+<p>"If I don't come back to you in five minutes, it will be a sign I want
+you to come to me."</p>
+
+<p>When the door had shut behind her Angel, the girl felt she would be
+thankful for the five minutes' respite. She lay flat and straight as a
+figure on a marble tomb, yet she could not rest for thinking of
+O'Reilly. His eyes seemed to be looking into hers. By shutting them, she
+could not shut him out. When she thought that the five minutes must have
+passed, she slid wearily off the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go to Angel," she said half aloud. But she had not got to her
+feet when, without knocking, Beverley flung the door open.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly Clo guessed that some new and worse misfortune had happened.</p>
+
+<p>"This time it's the end. I give up!" Beverley panted. "The envelope has
+gone with the pearls. I hadn't even opened it. I don't know what was
+inside."</p>
+
+<p>"Gone! The envelope gone!" gasped the girl. "Gone&mdash;from&mdash;where?"</p>
+
+<p>"From the table in the boudoir," Beverley answered. "I laid it there
+when Miss Blackburne told me about the pearls. It was there when I came
+to you. Miss Blackburne hasn't left the room. She didn't even see the
+envelope. I've searched everywhere for it&mdash;but it's gone."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>DEFEAT</h3>
+
+
+<p>All Clo's efforts and schemings wasted! She had tricked, stolen, risked
+her life, in vain. The envelope was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't have looked everywhere," she insisted. "The thing must have
+got tucked out of sight&mdash;unless Miss Blackburne ... but no, she's as
+good as gold!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you're right about her. She is good," said Beverley.
+"But ... she says nobody came into the room while she was
+there.... I asked her. Otherwise I might have thought that
+Rog&mdash;&mdash;" The sentence broke. "I wanted to see you alone," Angel began
+again, "so I came back. You've been so wonderful to-day, you've made
+me depend upon you. If there were anything to do, you'd be the one
+to do it. But there's nothing ... is there? I can't see any light,
+can you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me help you to look for the envelope," said Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, then," said the other, in a toneless voice, unlike her own.
+Together they went to Beverley's boudoir, where there was a little
+interlude of greetings between Clo and Miss Blackburne. Then, Clo was
+beginning her search for the lost envelope when Roger Sands slowly
+passed the half-open door. Beverley had left it ajar, not because she
+wished to call him (that desire had fled with the news about the
+pearls), but in order to see that he went out. She stood with her back
+to the door at the moment, but on the wall directly opposite hung a long
+mirror. Clo guessed, by the slight start Angel gave, that she must have
+caught sight of his reflection. He turned and came back.</p>
+
+<p>"If he asks to see the pearls!" was the thought in Clo's head. Her eyes
+met Beverley's and read the same terror there.</p>
+
+<p>Roger spoke to Miss Blackburne, pausing on the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of the baubles?" he asked with elaborate
+carelessness. "Are they above the average?"</p>
+
+<p>The two girls held their breath. Would the pearl-stringer give the
+situation away?</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Blackburne, true to herself, was discretion incarnate.</p>
+
+<p>"I've not seen enough of the pearls, yet, to form an opinion," she
+replied, "but my impression is that they must be altogether
+exceptional."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad your impression is good," said Roger. He turned to his wife.
+"I may not be back till late. Don't sit up for me. Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley followed him into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Roger!" she pleaded. "You're doing me a most horrible injustice. I
+can't bear it!"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't help knowing," she said, "It's about Justin O'Reilly. You
+think I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Have I accused you of anything?" he challenged, brows raised, eyes
+blank.</p>
+
+<p>"No. But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Your imagination seems to be even more lively than your conscience is
+sensitive, my dear girl. What have you done, that I should accuse you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've done nothing, Roger, that you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, then. Why borrow trouble? I must hurry, or I'll miss my
+appointment. Good-night again. Sleep well!"</p>
+
+<p>Roger left her without a backward glance. Beverley felt that she was
+caught in the folds of a vast net.</p>
+
+<p>What was it Clo had said, that day? "There was once a mouse who gnawed a
+net&mdash;&mdash;" Poor mouse, it had tried to-day to gnaw the net! It had gnawed
+one small hole, but even before the prisoner could struggle to get free,
+the hole had closed again. Still, the mouse was ready for another bout.
+It was a brave, bold mouse&mdash;a subtle mouse! For some strange reason her
+sole hope was in Clo.</p>
+
+<p>During her absence the girl had searched the boudoir from end to end.
+Her sharp eyes had not missed a cranny big enough to hide a pin, to say
+nothing of a rope of pearls or a large envelope with five red seals.
+Both the pearls and the envelope must have been stolen. Were there two
+thieves, or only one?</p>
+
+<p>With Roger's departure, and Beverley's return, the three women could
+talk with freedom, especially after Mrs. Sands' announcement to the
+butler that he would not be needed to serve dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Blackburne reiterated that she knew nothing of the envelope. She
+had had no thought for anything except the pearls. Their loss put her
+into an embarrassing position unless Mrs. Sands intended informing Mr.
+Sands and the police at once of what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw by your face you didn't want me to speak when your husband came
+in," she said to Beverley, "so I hedged, and did the best I could
+without lying. I realized that you would want to be the one to break the
+news. But I suppose you have told him now? He'll send the police, or
+some private detective, won't he, to take evidence while I'm here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do want to get them back," Beverley answered. "But I haven't told my
+husband, and we can't have the police, or even a detective. That must
+seem not quite fair to you, Miss Blackburne. Whatever happens, you
+shan't suffer, I promise. I believe I know who has taken the pearls. If
+I'm right, it isn't exactly a theft. Perhaps if I go the right way about
+it, I can get them again. What's the good of worrying my husband, when
+in a day or two there may be nothing to worry about?"</p>
+
+<p>"M-m-m," muttered Miss Blackburne, "I think you're wrong, Mrs. Sands. I
+have a feeling that Mr. Sands suspects."</p>
+
+<p>"That the pearls are gone? How can he?" Beverley cried.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, I only feel," the little woman repeated.</p>
+
+<p>As the two had talked, Clo watched Miss Blackburne's face. It was with
+her as the pearl-stringer had said of herself: she "did not know&mdash;she
+could only feel" that the good little woman had something on her
+conscience, something that she was obliged to hide.</p>
+
+<p>Clo had by this time succeeded in clearing her mind from cobwebs.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a light shone like flame upon the mystery. "Peterson!" was the
+name that printed itself upon the girl's brain. "If he could have got
+into the flat, he could have stolen both the pearls and papers. Does
+Miss Blackburne know something, and if she does, why won't she tell?"</p>
+
+<p>It occurred to Clo that, if she could have a few words with Miss
+Blackburne alone, perhaps the puzzle might be solved.</p>
+
+<p>"Angel," she said, "if there's been a thief in this house, perhaps he's
+here still. With two manservants, you ought&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Beverley waited for no more. Any straw was worth catching at. She
+couldn't wait to ring for Johnson. She rushed out of the boudoir, hoping
+to find the butler in the dining room. He was there. And while she
+explained that something had been stolen, that the flat must be
+searched, Clo got the chance she had wanted.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Blackburne, you're my friend!" she exclaimed. "This means life or
+death to me. I'm responsible for that envelope we've lost. Do, for the
+love of heaven, tell me what happened in this room while Mrs. Sands went
+out and left you here alone."</p>
+
+<p>The pearl-stringer remained silent. She met Clo's great, imploring eyes
+without shrinking, but the girl saw that she breathed hard.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't want me to die, tell me!" Clo implored.</p>
+
+<p>"My child, I would tell you, if I could," she stiffened herself. "But,
+you see," she finished, "there's nothing to tell. So, I can't."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BROWN TRUNK</h3>
+
+
+<p>Clo realized that there was no more to be said, since to accuse Miss
+Blackburne of lying would make matters worse. When Beverley came back,
+to say that the servants had been questioned, and the flat searched in
+vain, the girl had made up her mind what to do next. There were two
+things, one of which had better be done at once; the second, which must
+be done before ten o'clock. The first was to settle with Miss
+Blackburne; and get rid of her. The second thing was to keep the
+appointment with Peterson. It was more important, Clo thought, to see
+him than to see O'Reilly, though she expected Angel to suggest an
+immediate talk with O'Reilly in person or by telephone. She hoped to
+bring Beverley to her point of view.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I rely on you to let me clear myself if you don't find your
+pearls the way you hope," Miss Blackburne reminded Beverley. "I'm sure
+you'll let me know when you have news. Meanwhile, there's nothing to
+stay for, is there? I might as well be with mother."</p>
+
+<p>It was arranged that she should go home in a taxi, to save the time
+which must be wasted, waiting for Beverley's car. Mrs. Sands paid, of
+course, and gave the pearl-stringer a present of fifty dollars, "to make
+up for her trouble."</p>
+
+<p>It was not late, as time goes, but on this night of stress and ordeal,
+nine-fifteen was a terrible hour. The instant Miss Blackburne was out of
+the house, the two girls turned to each other, and clasped hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God, she's gone!" Beverley breathed. "Now I'll call up Justin
+O'Reilly, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait till I tell you something I've thought of, then you can decide,"
+Clo cut in. "I believe that horrible creature, Peterson, may be the
+thief, not O'Reilly. How he could have got into the flat, and out again,
+I can't see. But he probably specializes in stunts like that! He has the
+face&mdash;and the fingers&mdash;for it. I shouldn't wonder if he terrorized poor
+Blacky. She's not cut out for a heroine, is she? Maybe the man was under
+the table in the boudoir. Maybe he warned her that, if she gave him away
+afterward, he'd do for her and all her belongings. That would scare
+Blacky blue! She worships her mother. I haven't got the tangle
+straightened out in my head yet. But this new idea looks good to me, so
+far. If Peterson's the thief&mdash;if he's pocketed the papers and the
+pearls&mdash;it seems to me he'll try and make a quick get-away. Let us jump
+on him now, at the Hotel Westmorland, before he expects us, and before
+bothering with O'Reilly. These pearls must be well known. Peterson can't
+get rid of them, even to a fence, for any big sum. I think he'd
+exchange, for money, and less important jewels that he might dare to
+sell. Haven't you got something that your husband's forgotten&mdash;or won't
+mind if he doesn't see you wear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Beverley answered. "I have six or seven hundred dollars by me.
+There's a diamond muff-chain, too, and a tiara that Roger himself thinks
+too old looking for me. He proposed to have the stones reset&mdash;but that's
+months ago. He has forgotten, I'm sure, for he's given me so many other
+things since. I could bargain with the chain and tiara&mdash;and perhaps a
+few bracelets and rings."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me take the jewels and money in a bag to the Westmorland. I can
+leave it at the desk while I do the bargaining. It's best to be on the
+safe side, if you're a mouse holding up a ferret! Besides, there's a
+question we've 'most lost sight of in this business, Angel. We're not
+sure the right papers were in the envelope I took from O'Reilly. They
+might be something else he valued."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes!" cried Beverley. "For a moment I counted on their being the
+right ones&mdash;the ones I must give Peterson&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've only to see him to make sure," Clo went on. "He may lie, but
+I know I can tell by his face. Angel, waste no time on O'Reilly. There's
+not one second to lose! Get your jewels together, and I'll go."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll both go," said Beverley. "Don't object; it's useless! I won't
+have you go alone. You've done more than enough already. I'm a wretch to
+let you slave for me, your first day out of bed! But I daren't call at
+Peterson's alone, not because I'm afraid for myself, but because of
+Roger. Besides, I can depend on you to keep your head."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," Clo consented. "The first thing that occurs to me is this:
+we must put on plain coats and hats. My new hat I left at the Dietz: I
+had to! But you'll lend me something. And we'll not 'phone for a taxi.
+Best slip away and not let the servants know we've gone. If you've a
+latch-key, we may go and even get back without a soul being the wiser."</p>
+
+<p>"Come to my room and choose wraps for us both, while I collect the money
+and what jewels I dare spare," Beverley said. As she spoke, she ran in
+front of Clo, and opened a safe in the wall not unlike the hiding place
+Clo had rifled at the Dietz.</p>
+
+<p>The girl selected two automobile coats, one of gray silk, the other of
+brown, both intended to match the colours of dresses, but inconspicuous
+and plain. There were toques made of the same material, with thin veils
+attached. Clo took for herself the brown coat, which was shorter than
+the gray, and pulled the brown toque well over her red hair. By this
+time Beverley had stuffed a roll of greenbacks, a chain of platinum set
+with brilliants, half a dozen sparkling rings and bracelets, and a
+flexible diamond tiara, into a dark leather handbag. Clo helped her into
+the long gray coat which covered her evening dress; and the two stole
+out of the flat like flitting shadows. They went down in the elevator,
+but the hall-porter was off duty for the night, having left a young
+understudy in charge.</p>
+
+<p>The girls walked fast to the nearest taxi stand, Clo trying not to
+breathe hard and so remind Angel of her weakness. As the chauffeur
+slowed down in front of the Westmorland, Beverley held up her wrist
+watch for Clo to see.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-five minutes to ten," Clo assured her confidently. "I only hope
+he won't have gone out. Now, you wait for me in the taxi, Angel, while
+I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you're to wait for me," Beverley decided. "I can do more with the
+man than you, because there are things you don't know. But don't wait
+here. It's too far away. I might need you in a hurry. We'll keep the
+taxi, so there'll be no delay in getting off, and we'll both go into the
+hotel together. You came this afternoon, so you had better ask for
+Peterson. We can make up our minds what to do next when we get the
+answer."</p>
+
+<p>A moment later a tall young woman in a gray motor cloak, and a small
+young woman in a brown cloak, entered the hotel. The veils that covered
+their close-fitting toques and fell over their faces were not thick, yet
+in the electric light the gauze took on a disguising glitter. The pair
+in their plain wraps, were not conspicuous figures even in a third-rate
+hotel like the Westmorland, and the clerk whom they approached was not
+moved to curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Peterson? He's in; came in over an hour ago, and mentioned that he
+expected a caller; party to go right up."</p>
+
+<p>"He's expecting us, one or both," Clo cut in hastily. "What's his
+number?"</p>
+
+<p>"658, top floor," said the clerk. "The elevator's just over there to the
+left&mdash;see?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll go up together," Clo whispered, "and then, if you really think
+best to see the man alone, I'll hang about somewhere in the hall till
+you come out and call me."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley made no reply. Already she was fathoms deep in thought. The
+musty-smelling lift shot them up to the top floor; Beverley, stepping
+out ahead of Clo, had the air of having forgotten her existence. The
+girl's anxiety deepened. The best she could do was to guide her friend
+through dimly lighted, dark-walled corridors, to the right number, 658.
+Beverley had, before they left the taxi, given the money and jewels into
+her companion's hand. Clo's over-strained nerves began to take their
+revenge. This shabby hotel was an evil place. To her it seemed that each
+closed door hid something secret and sinister. They met no one between
+the elevator and Peterson's room. Involuntarily, the two paused an
+instant in front of number 658 before knocking. No sound came from
+within. If Peterson were in his room, apparently he was alone. Beverley
+tapped&mdash;a sharp, nervous tap.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in!" cried a voice which sounded far off, as if the speaker called
+from the furthest corner of the room, or from the depths of a wall
+cupboard.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep near, but not too near," whispered Beverley, and opened the door.
+To her surprise and Clo's there was no light in the room; yet it was not
+really dark. The blind on the curtainless window opposite the door was
+rolled up to the top, and let in light from the brilliantly illuminated
+street six storeys below. As Beverley passed in, Clo caught a glimpse of
+a man's figure comfortably seated in a high-backed armchair in front of
+the window. She even recognized the mean profile of Peterson, outlined
+in black against the luminous square of a window pane, and anger pricked
+her that he should dare receive Mrs. Sands without rising. Then the door
+shut, and Clo, obeying the order to "keep near, but not too near," took
+a few steps down the corridor. Within sight of the door, but not within
+hearing of voices on the other side unless they should rise to a shout,
+she hovered uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>It was hateful to Clo that Angel should be alone with the ferret-faced
+man behind the closed door. He might choke Beverley to death with those
+sly, thievish hands of his, and the sentinel outside would not know.
+"Why was he sitting there in the dark," she puzzled, "like a spider in
+his web, waiting to pounce?" She could not put away the impression that
+there was something more terrible even than Beverley had expected. No
+one came or went. After all, she had been there only four or five
+minutes, though the time seemed long. It might easily be half an hour,
+Clo reminded herself, before she could hope to be called into
+consultation, or invited to hand over the precious bag. She looked
+wistfully toward the nearest end of the corridor. There, in front of a
+window, was a big brown trunk. She would go and sit on that trunk to
+rest. It was well within sight of Peterson's door. Her eyes would never
+leave that door! With renewed life she could spring up as she saw it
+opened by Angel.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I've got to the limit!" the girl said. She was so spent that her
+feet seemed to have weights attached to them as she dragged herself
+toward the trunk. Reaching it, she dropped, rather than sat, upon the
+rounded top. No sooner had she touched the lid, however, than she
+bounded up as if she had received an electric shock. It seemed that
+something inside the trunk had given a leap, and that the great box had
+quivered under her. At the same instant the door of number 658 was
+thrown open. Beverley came out.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2>
+
+<h3>MURDER</h3>
+
+
+<p>There was something not natural in Beverley's air and manner. Normally
+she had a proud, erect carriage. Now she came stumbling out of Number
+658, and with drooping head, and shoulders bent, crept into the hall,
+leaving the door half open behind her; but she stopped abruptly and
+turned back. Clo, forgetting her own weakness, and forgetting the brown
+trunk, hurried to join her friend. But Beverley seemed to be unconscious
+of the girl's presence. She stood as far as possible from the door,
+closed it without noise, and was walking away again when Clo's arm slid
+round her waist.</p>
+
+<p>"Darling, what has he said, what has he done to you?" the girl implored.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley seized Clo by the wrist, and pulled her toward the lift.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurry!" she whispered. "We must get away as soon as we can, for Roger's
+sake!"</p>
+
+<p>"But what about the papers, and the pearls?" Clo persisted. "Had
+Peterson taken them? Did he give them to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know whether he had them or not. Nothing matters now, except to
+get home," was the astounding answer. Clo could hardly believe that she
+had heard aright. Ten&mdash;five minutes ago, nothing in the world mattered,
+except the papers and the pearls. Now they had lost all their
+importance!</p>
+
+<p>"You don't want them any more?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Want them?" Beverley echoed. "Yes, more than ever, I want them. But
+it's too late. Don't ask me why. Only&mdash;come!"</p>
+
+<p>Clo could not argue with Angel, or oppose her, in such a mood as this.
+She wished that she had taken her own way, and gone herself to "have it
+out" with Peterson. She felt that nothing he could have said or done
+would have forced her to give up without at least knowing whether or not
+the booty were in his possession. As she kept pace with Beverley she was
+screwing up her courage to one last, desperate coup. She would make it
+in spite of Angel!</p>
+
+<p>They came to the elevator, but before Clo could put out her hand to
+touch the electric button, Beverley drew her farther on, to the
+staircase. They went down swiftly and in silence. The entrance hall of
+the hotel smelt of tobacco. They descended into it behind the elevator.
+A group of men surrounded the desk where they had inquired for Peterson,
+and the two girls in motor coats and veiled toques passed without
+catching sight of the clerk who had sent them to 658. Three or four men
+of the commercial traveller type glanced at the gray and brown figures;
+but the elevator had at that moment released a golden-haired, black-eyed
+young woman in a pink evening dress. She became at once an object of
+interest, and the plainly-cloaked pair vanished unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>The taxi, which had been ordered to wait, was at a distance. They
+hurried to it. It was Clo who opened the door of the cab, and almost
+pushed Angel in!</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I tell him to go to the corner where he picked us up?" she asked.
+Beverley nodded, and sank back against the shabby leather cushions. This
+was Clo's moment. She had led up to it, and decided what to do. First
+she placed the bag of jewels in Beverley's lap. Next she spoke to the
+chauffeur, giving clear directions. Then she slammed the door shut, and
+stepped back upon the sidewalk, motioning to the man to start.</p>
+
+<p>"Angel will be so surprised, she won't know what to do for a minute,"
+the girl thought. "By the time she pulls herself together she'll realize
+it's too late to stop me."</p>
+
+<p>As fast as she dared, Clo retraced her steps to the hotel. She hated to
+leave Beverley alone, but between two evils it seemed that she had
+chosen the less. When the taxi stopped Beverley would get out; and then
+she would have a few blocks to walk before reaching home. As for the
+bag, she could hardly forget it in the cab. The thing was too heavy to
+fall from her lap without being noticed. She would have the jewels safe,
+while Clo tried to bargain with ferret-face on promises of reward.</p>
+
+<p>By the time she had argued away her worst tremors, Clo had again entered
+the Hotel Westmorland. She had decided to say that her friend had
+forgotten something if a question were asked; but the desk was still
+surrounded with its group of talkative men, and she walked to the stairs
+at the back of the hall as if she were a guest of the hotel. Thence she
+toiled to the top.</p>
+
+<p>It was only when she approached the door of Number 658, and saw once
+more the brown trunk at the end of the hall, that Clo remembered the odd
+side-issue of her adventure. She hesitated between the need for haste
+and the wish to solve the mystery that troubled her. But it would take
+only a minute to run to the trunk, to sit on it again, and see what
+happened! Meanwhile, any one who went in, or came out from, Number 658,
+must do so under her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Curiosity conquered. Clo tip-toed to the trunk, sat heavily down on the
+rounded top, as she had done before, and nothing happened. There was no
+sign of movement within; and Clo wondered if, after all, the thing that
+had jumped under the lid had been created by her own jumping nerves.
+Suddenly the impulse came upon her to try and open it. She seized the
+corner of the rounded lid, but it remained immovable. She picked at the
+metal hasp which covered the cheap lock. It did not yield, but her
+fingers&mdash;or she fancied it&mdash;touched moisture. The girl shrank back and
+looked at her hand. Thumb and forefinger were smeared with blood.</p>
+
+<p>The girl felt sick, and might have fainted comfortably. "Pooh!" she
+scolded herself. "You've cut your finger. Serve you right for not
+minding your own business. Go to it now, and no nonsense, if you
+please!"</p>
+
+<p>Goading herself to courage she marched to the door of 658 and knocked.
+No answer came, and the girl's heart sank. It seemed too bad to be true
+that Peterson should have escaped during the few minutes spent in
+putting Angel into a taxi. Besides, she had scarcely gone beyond
+eye-shot of the hotel entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he's asleep," thought Clo. She turned the handle, and to her
+surprise the door yielded. She had expected to find it locked. As
+before, the room was unlit save by golden reflections from the street
+below. The girl opened the door wide, and deliberately looked in.
+Strange; there sat the man in his easy chair in front of the window,
+with his mean profile outlined against the light, just as he had sat
+when Beverley had answered the summons to "Come in!" One would say, to
+look at him, that he had not moved an inch.</p>
+
+<p>Clo's theory had gone wrong. She had urged her conviction upon Angel
+that he was the thief; that, if he were the thief, he would "make his
+get-away" in haste. Yet here he sat, in the dark, asleep.</p>
+
+<p>She stepped across the threshold, felt along the wall for an electric
+switch, found it, and flooded the room with light. Still the figure in
+the chair did not stir.</p>
+
+<p>Clo glanced round the squalid room. Peterson had begun to pack. A
+suitcase lay open on the narrow bed. The wrinkled gray-white counterpane
+was half covered with scattered clothing.</p>
+
+<p>"If he's fast enough asleep, I can go through everything," she thought,
+"including his pockets!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl walked in, and closed the door resolutely but softly, her eyes
+always upon the figure in the chair. She mustn't begin to search the
+place without making sure that Peterson was not playing "possum." It
+would be awful, when her back was turned, to have him pounce upon her
+like a monkey. She tip-toed across the room, and stopped in front of the
+easy-chair, within a yard of the stretched-out feet, where she could
+take a good look at the sleeper. His head was bent down over his breast,
+and the girl had to stoop a little to peer into the face. But a glance
+sent her reeling back against a chest of drawers. The top of the man's
+head had been crushed in by some blunt instrument. His forehead and the
+side of his face turned toward the window were covered with blood. His
+shirt and coat were soaked with it, in a long red stripe, and a dark
+pool had formed in a vague heart-shape on the patterned carpet.</p>
+
+<p>Clo had never before seen a dead man, yet she did not doubt that this
+man was dead. He could have been dead for a short time only. The blood
+on the livid face glistened wet in the electric light. It had hardly
+ceased to drip from the wound in his head.</p>
+
+<p>For a time Clo stood still, as if frozen. But slowly the power to think
+came back. To her own horror and disgust she found herself wondering if
+Beverley Sands had killed Peterson. It would have been a tremendous blow
+for a woman to strike, but Beverley was desperate, and she was strong.
+She had boasted of her strength of arm only the other day, to Sister
+Lake, who had tested and admired the splendid firmness of her young
+muscles. Besides, the man had been caught unawares, and had been struck
+from behind; the position of the wound showed that. On a small table by
+the chair lay the weapon. It was a long pistol, Clo did not know of what
+kind or make, but it looked old-fashioned; and there was no question as
+to the way in which it had been used. Someone had taken it by the muzzle
+and struck with the butt end, which was coated with blood and hairs.
+Perhaps the pistol had not been loaded, or perhaps the murderer&mdash;(no,
+"avenger" was the better word, with that fear knocking at her heart!)
+had not dared fire because of the noise.</p>
+
+<p>Clo's mind began to work more quickly. She pieced details together. The
+person who had killed Peterson could not have picked up the pistol from
+that table without being seen by him, therefore it had been lying there
+before the murder. Most likely it had lain on the bed, among the strewn
+things which ferret-face had begun to pack. In that case any one
+entering the room might have spied and snatched it, unsuspected by the
+man in the chair.</p>
+
+<p>"If my poor, tortured Angel didn't do this, I can bear anything!" Clo
+told herself. "It wouldn't so much matter for me. I'd have killed him
+for her sake&mdash;I believe. But for her it would be horrible!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl remembered the blood on her fingers, which she had found after
+touching the lock of the brown trunk, and this remembrance gave her
+hope. The murderer must have passed that way, whereas Beverley had not
+been near the trunk. "Thank goodness for one good bit of evidence in
+case it's ever needed!" Clo thought. "Who knows but the murderer was
+hiding in the trunk, and jumped in his fright when I plumped down on it?
+Well, if he did, he must either be smothered by now, since the trunk's
+been locked since then, or else he's escaped. Oh, Angel, how could I
+dream for a minute it might have been you? And yet if this wretch was
+dead then, who called 'Come in?'"</p>
+
+<p>A wild impulse to run away seized the girl. She started toward the door,
+but stopped half way. No, she would not fail Angel. The man was dead. He
+could do her no harm. If Beverley's pearls, or if Beverley's papers,
+were in this room, no matter where, even if she had to touch that
+blood-stained coat to search the pockets, she would not go without them.</p>
+
+<p>The dark blind ought to be pulled down, because from some high window
+she might be seen and identified afterward, if trouble came of this
+night's work. To reach the blind she had to step over the feet which
+sprawled beyond the chair; and stretching up her arm to touch the broken
+cord, she was conscious that her dress brushed the dead man's knees.</p>
+
+<p>Next she went to the bed, and began turning over Peterson's miserable
+belongings. She prayed that, by a miracle, she might come across the
+sealed envelope. As for the pearls, if the murderer were of the Peterson
+type, to steal them would have been his first thought. But&mdash;it would
+need a stout-hearted criminal to go through the pockets of his victim,
+and if the motive were other than theft, it might be that the pearls and
+papers were still on the body. If Clo failed to find them elsewhere she
+would have to ransack those pockets. The thought was too horrible to
+dwell upon. Frantically she tossed over the contents of the suitcase,
+lifting and shaking every garment scattered on the bed. She peered under
+the pillows; she pulled out the drawers of wash-stand and
+dressing-table; but there was nothing to be found there, not even a
+letter, not a torn morsel of paper which could serve Beverley's cause.
+Clo's spirit groaned a prayer for strength when at last&mdash;sick and
+shaking, her palms damp&mdash;she had to set about the pillage of the dead
+man's pockets. Some she needed merely to touch with her finger ends, to
+make sure that they were empty. Others had to be searched to their
+depths: and the girl felt convinced that she would die if in the horrid
+business she plunged a hand into some unseen sop of blood.</p>
+
+<p>From a waistcoat pocket she pulled out a small leather cigarette case,
+still warm from the wearer's breast&mdash;another proof, if she had let
+herself think of it, that he had not long been dead. In the leather
+case, behind a store of tightly packed cigarettes, was a card&mdash;the
+cheapest sort of visiting card, on which, scrawled in pencil, was the
+name Lorenz Czerny. On the back of this card, in a different
+handwriting, but also in pencil, a memorandum had been scribbled. A
+glance showed Clo that it consisted of names, abbreviated addresses, and
+the hours of appointments, or perhaps of trains. She did not stop to
+examine the card thoroughly, but slipped it into her pocket for future
+reference, and went on with her task.</p>
+
+<p>The sealed envelope she sought was too large not to protrude over the
+top of any pocket of a man's indoor coat; but Clo reflected that the
+envelope might have been destroyed, and the contents distributed, or
+folded into smaller compass. With this idea she spared herself nothing
+in her quest; but the sole reward she had (save for the cigarette case)
+was the finding of a paragraph cut from a newspaper, a roll of
+blood-stained greenbacks, which she hastily replaced, and a torn silk
+handkerchief. The newspaper cutting told of Roger Sands' magnificent
+house in Newport, whither he and his "beautiful young bride" would
+shortly move. This also Clo annexed, in order that no connection should
+seem to exist between Beverley Sands and the man Peterson when the
+police got to work. The handkerchief she took from the coat pocket into
+which it had been untidily stuffed, in order to search underneath. But
+the nervous jerk she gave pulled out something else also&mdash;something
+small, which fell to the floor with a tinkle as of a tiny stone striking
+wood, when it touched a chair leg, and rolled under the chest of
+drawers. Clo had not time to see what the thing was. There was only a
+flashing glimpse of a pebble-like object as it disappeared. But her
+heart leaped at the thought of what it might be. Thrusting the ragged
+handkerchief into a pocket already examined, she had just stooped to
+peer under the clumsy piece of furniture when a telephone bell began to
+ring.</p>
+
+<p>The girl sprang to her feet, quivering and alert. It seemed that the
+bell had rung almost in her ear. Someone was calling for Peterson!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2>
+
+<h3>"KIT!"</h3>
+
+
+<p>Somehow Clo got to the telephone, which was placed on the wall by the
+door, and her hand trembled on the receiver before she realized that the
+bell which rang was in the adjoining room. There was no communicating
+door between, but the wall must be almost as thin as cardboard, for the
+noise seemed to smite her ear-drum. For an instant Clo's relief was
+overwhelming; but as the shrill noise struck her nerves blow after blow,
+they rebelled. Her brain refused to work until, suddenly, blessed
+silence fell.</p>
+
+<p>Once more she had a sense of being saved. The power of recollection came
+back. She knew that she had been going to look for the thing which had
+dropped out of Peterson's handkerchief, and rolled out of sight. She
+went down on her knees for the second time, but only to spring up, and
+stand quivering like a creature at bay. Again the telephone bell was
+ringing, and now the sound was in the room. The call was for 658. She
+answered at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" she saluted the unknown.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" came the response, in a man's voice. "This is Chuff calling.
+Are you Peterson?"</p>
+
+<p>"Peterson is in the room," returned Clo, after an instant's pause, in
+which her heart missed a beat. "But he can't come to the 'phone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, say, is that you, Kit?" the man wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>Clo was almost incapable of thinking; but she was vaguely aware that the
+accent was slightly foreign. "Yes," she ventured. "It's Kit."</p>
+
+<p>"Nice thing you are! I've been trying to get you the last ten minutes.
+Thought your room was next door to his. Couldn't you hear your own
+'phone from Petes'?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've just come in," said Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"You're late. Anything wrong? Your voice sounds sort of queer."</p>
+
+<p>"I've got chewing gum in my mouth," said Clo "What do you want to say to
+Pete?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to know if he's got the papers."</p>
+
+<p>Clo's blood rushed to her head. This looked like a wonderful chance to
+tap a secret, if she didn't lose it by giving the wrong answers.
+Beverley Sands' whole future might depend upon the next few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold the line a second or two," she said. She needed to think.</p>
+
+<p>If she replied that Peterson had the papers, embarrassing questions
+might be asked. If she said that he hadn't, the man at the telephone
+might end the conversation before she had learned enough to help Angel.
+"I'll try hedging," she decided, and began again with a tentative
+"Hello!" For an instant there was no response, and Clo was sick with
+fear lest she had been cut off. But luck was with her. The
+foreign-sounding voice began again: "Well, is Pete there this time?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the girl. "Pete is&mdash;packing. He wants me to say it isn't much
+after ten. He's expecting to get the papers any minute now."</p>
+
+<p>"He 'phoned me he'd made ten the time limit. Didn't he tell Olga that
+Stephen would sure be done for if she didn't hand over the real docs by
+ten o'clock sharp?"</p>
+
+<p>"Olga!" ... "Stephen!" ... Clo felt that she was hearing things she had
+no right to know.</p>
+
+<p>"The lady's had her hands full all the afternoon and evening," she
+answered carefully. "I suppose you know what's been going on?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know a damned thing since Pete 'phoned some little skirt had
+brought around the wrong papers to the hotel. Tell him to quit his
+packing and show up at the 'phone."</p>
+
+<p>"He's gone out this very instant," said Clo. "A boy has come to the door
+to say there was someone to see him downstairs. Maybe it's the right
+one. He won't be long anyhow. But I'm just as glad to have a chance for
+a word with you while he's out of the way. Seems sort of funny he didn't
+put you wise about the excitement, you know where."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean Park Avenue?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I can't talk in the 'phone the way I would if the wall was
+thicker. Didn't Pete tell you about the present of pearls the lady got
+from her husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"What pearls?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't give you their whole history, but maybe Pete could, if he
+wanted to."</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you think so? Have you got on to some frame up, or are you
+kidding?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well. Somebody relieved the lady of them. That's what's made her busy
+the rest of the time. Might account for documents being late."</p>
+
+<p>"Say, what are you giving me? Has Pete made a deal on his own?... Pearls
+instead of papers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold the line again for a jiffy, and I'll go through his togs."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Look sharp."</p>
+
+<p>Clo let the receiver hang loose, and for the third time went down on her
+knees before the chest of drawers. Thrusting her arm underneath, she
+passed her hand over the dirty carpet. Lodged against the wall at the
+back, and in a corner, was something round and hard, a thing which
+seemed to be about the size of a small filbert. The girl brought it out
+between thumb and finger, freed it of dust, and saw an immense pearl.</p>
+
+<p>"That settles that!" she said to herself. Peterson was the thief. But
+had he stolen the envelope as well as the pearls? Oh, if she could only
+galvanize the dead to speak! But the next best thing was to speak to the
+telephone. The truth might come from that direction, bit by bit, piecing
+the different parts of the story together.</p>
+
+<p>Clo, getting to her feet again, was struck with a sudden luminous idea.</p>
+
+<p>"Kit," the woman she was personating, the woman apparently set to watch
+Peterson, had found out about the pearls. Either she had believed him a
+traitor to the "gang," or she had wanted the pearls for herself. In
+either case she had killed him to get them; and one pearl had escaped to
+tell the tale of its fellows.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, "Kit" had the pearls. But where were they, and where was she? The
+woman was not in her room, because the telephone bell had been ringing
+there and she hadn't answered. What if she hadn't been able to get back
+to her room after the murder? Kit might have locked her door when she
+came to have a chat with Peterson. It was likely enough there'd be
+things in her quarters which she wouldn't want a prying chambermaid to
+see! Perhaps she'd seen Peterson looking at the pearls. Perhaps, when
+she knocked, he had thrust the broken rope back into his pocket with the
+loose pearls. Perhaps Kit had put him off his guard, chatting of other
+things, while he packed. But no, she had caught him unawares when he sat
+as he was sitting now! Clo pictured her offering to help him pack. He
+had lolled comfortably while Kit worked. Then, she had come behind him
+and dealt that frightful blow with the butt of his own pistol. A strong,
+determined woman, Kit!</p>
+
+<p>Clo remembered how she and Beverley had walked slowly from the corridor
+of the lift into Peterson's corridor, looking at the numbers over the
+doors; and remembered how she had said to Angel, "This must be the right
+way to turn." Even after that, they had paused a moment for Beverley to
+gather up her failing courage; and if Kit had then been in the act of
+opening the trunk, she could easily have hidden herself inside before
+the owners of the voices she heard had turned the corner. It must have
+given her a beautiful fright when someone sat down on the trunk with a
+thud! No wonder she had jumped, and made the big box shake!</p>
+
+<p>Kit's actions later could be plausibly accounted for, too. She must have
+guessed that one of the women she had heard speaking (had seen, perhaps,
+if she contrived to peep from the trunk when their backs were turned)
+had been in Peterson's room. How she must have wished that she'd taken
+time to lock his door on the outside! As it was, she couldn't have been
+sure that an alarm would not be given downstairs. Her one thought must
+have been haste; and Clo doubted that, if she had forgotten her key in
+Peterson's room, she would have ventured back to get it. No, she would
+have crept out of the trunk, and looked at her dress in the dim light to
+see whether blood stains showed. If she wore dark clothing, she might
+have run the risk. Clo pictured her locking the trunk, and following, as
+closely as she dared, the cloaked figures in gray and brown; pictured
+her pausing in the background to see whether the pair stopped at the
+desk, or went away with their secret; pictured her relief when they
+passed on in silence; and the bid for freedom she must have made a
+minute later.</p>
+
+<p>"I bet, by the time we were in our taxi, that woman was out of this, and
+legging it as fast as she could go. She wouldn't have taken a cab, for
+fear of being traced," Clo finished her reflections. She stared at the
+pearl in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Awkward for me if Kit gets to the man at the other end while her double
+chats to him at the Westmorland!" the girl thought, and flew back to the
+telephone. "Are you there?" she called.</p>
+
+<p>"You bet your sweet life I'm here. Did you find the beans?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've found something I must bring to you. Where's the safest place?"</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with here?"</p>
+
+<p>"It won't do," she answered. "It's on account of Pete!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, come to Churn's. When'll you be there?"</p>
+
+<p>This was a blow. Clo was angling for an address, with street and number.
+But she would not be downed by one disappointment. "Same reason holds
+good for Churn's," she said. "Can't you think of some place Pete doesn't
+know? And think quick, or he'll be back."</p>
+
+<p>"Think quick yourself! We'll go round to your own house, you dub! Pete
+ain't sure where your real pitch is&mdash;unless you've blabbed."</p>
+
+<p>"I may have dropped something that's put him wise," the girl persisted
+in desperation. "I tell you I'm not talking to hear myself talk when I
+ask for a new place."</p>
+
+<p>"Krantz's Keller, then, eleven thirty."</p>
+
+<p>"Right for Krantz's Keller. But I can't be sure of eleven thirty. I'll
+have to keep an eye on Pete till I know what he's up to. Maybe I can
+'phone you there. What's Krantz's number?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't give it to you without looking it up. Haven't you got the book
+there?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Somebody must have nicked it."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't there one in your own room next door?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But say&mdash;a fool thing's happened. I locked my door when I came in
+to Pete's, and I've dropped my key."</p>
+
+<p>"Find it, and go look at the book. Jake's got mine. I'll call you up in
+your room in five minutes. Then if Pete's back it won't matter. See?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But&mdash;&mdash;Have you gone?"</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer. Clo could do nothing save hang up the receiver, and
+begin to search for a key which, despite her elaborate deductions, might
+be in "Kit's" pocket for all she knew. Luck was with her once more,
+however. On the floor by the mantelpiece lay a key, almost hidden in the
+deep fur of a mangy, goat-hair rug. Clo might have wasted twice the time
+in her search, had she not stepped on it.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll make the best of a bad bargain," she promised herself. "If I must
+go to Kit's room, I won't throw away a single second."</p>
+
+<p>She fastened Peterson's door on the outside, and fitted the key she had
+found, into the lock of the door at the left, in front of which stood
+the brown trunk.</p>
+
+<p>The key served, as she had felt certain it would. Hastily she locked
+herself into the room, and switched on the light. It was a mean little
+room, a facsimile of Peterson's in most of its features, but a woman's
+clothing hung from hooks on the door, and on the bed and chairs and
+dressing table a woman's belongings were flung untidily about; hats,
+gloves, collars, and a handbag of jet and steel beads. Kit must have
+hated to leave that bag, thought Clo. She drew the ribbons, and took a
+hasty peep at the bag's contents. There was a soiled suede purse, and in
+that purse, mixed up with a few greenbacks, there were some papers. Clo
+dared not stop to examine them. She could only hope that they might give
+clues which she had failed to obtain from the telephone.</p>
+
+<p>There were four or five frocks hanging on the door, showy blouses and
+bright-coloured skirts; but Clo searched in vain for pockets. In the
+chest of drawers, which was the twin of Peterson's, was a certain amount
+of underclothing, much trimmed with cheap lace. There were silk
+petticoats with torn frilling, and shoes and slippers. But nothing was
+marked with name, or even initials. Kit, though gaudily coquettish in
+her taste, was apparently careless in her habits. Clo no longer visioned
+Kit large, masculine, and determined, a tigress woman. Instead she saw a
+lithe, cat-like creature, strong, no doubt (it had taken strength to
+strike that blow and Clo would have staked her life that it had been
+struck by Kit) but not big or massive.</p>
+
+<p>The five minutes grace must certainly have passed before Clo had come to
+the end of her inspection, but the telephone was silent. This struck the
+girl as ominous, for it might mean that Kit had appeared in person at
+the other end of the line. It might mean that some trap was being laid
+to catch Kit's double.</p>
+
+<p>"If she turns up, and tells everything, they can't let me get away with
+what I know, even about Krantz's Keller," Clo told herself. "They'll
+have to send someone to watch, especially if they think I'm a 'tec,
+who's found Peterson's body. They won't know what I'm like. All the
+same, if they don't call me up in just one minute more, I must make a
+bolt. I'll count sixty, and&mdash;see what happens."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE VOICE THAT DID NOT SEEM STRANGE</h3>
+
+
+<p>What happened was that the telephone began ringing in the next
+room&mdash;Peterson's room. It began when Clo had counted up to forty.</p>
+
+<p>She had hoped not to go back to the room of the dead man. She had
+searched it from end to end. But now she knew the thing would have to be
+done.</p>
+
+<p>Already the jet and steel bag hung by its ribbons over her arm. Clo
+switched off the electricity, and let herself out into the hall. Before
+she had finished her count of sixty seconds she was once more locked in
+Peterson's room. So confidently had she expected to hear the same
+foreign-sounding accents that she almost dropped the receiver and
+started away when her "Hello!" was answered by a strange voice.</p>
+
+<p>Yet&mdash;was it a strange voice? As it went on to ask: "Is this Mr.
+Peterson?" Clo had a strong impression that she had heard the voice
+before. Assuredly it was not the one which had talked to "Kit," but it
+sounded astonishingly familiar. Though she could not yet identify the
+tones recognition was only a question of instants.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Mr. Peterson's room," she replied. "He is&mdash;here. He wishes me
+to speak for him."</p>
+
+<p>"I had better tell you before we go further, then, that I'm talking for
+Mr. John Heron. When you have explained that, Mr. Peterson will decide
+whether he'd rather come to the 'phone and attend to the business
+himself."</p>
+
+<p>Clo was glad of the pause. "John Heron!" That was the man Peterson had
+mentioned during her second conversation with him. He had said that
+Roger Sands was "working for John Heron" when Roger and Beverley met in
+the train; and she&mdash;Clo&mdash;had heard the name with a queer thrill which
+she could not understand. So far as she knew, it was strange to her: yet
+she seemed to have heard it in dreams&mdash;sad dreams, where someone had
+sobbed in the dark. Through the strenuous adventures which had kept body
+and brain busy the girl had recalled it again and again, since the
+moment when the name had fallen from Peterson's lips. She had wondered
+if she would ever have the "cheek" to ask Angel who was John Heron.
+Whoever he might be, John Heron was in some way concerned with
+Beverley's secret, or Peterson would not have spoken his name in that
+connection.</p>
+
+<p>She answered quietly: "Mr. Peterson allows me to go on speaking for
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," returned the voice. "Mr. Peterson called Mr. Heron up not
+long ago, to say he could sell him a rope of fine pearls for Mrs. Heron,
+at a low price. He'd heard, it appears, that Mr. Heron wished to buy
+pearls, and he suggested an appointment for to-night. Mr. Heron did not
+receive this message himself; he was indisposed at the time it came, and
+Mrs. Heron took it, but was unable to answer for her husband. He asks me
+to say, in his name, that if Mr. Peterson has some particularly fine
+pearls to dispose of, he'll be pleased to look at them, not to-night,
+but to-morrow morning about ten o'clock, at his hotel, the Dietz."</p>
+
+<p>"The Dietz!" cried Clo. "Now I know who's speaking to me. You're Justin
+O'Reilly!"</p>
+
+<p>Inadvertently she had kept her lips at the receiver. The cry had flown
+to the man who held the line.</p>
+
+<p>"And you're my girl burglar! By Jove, I thought I knew that voice! Are
+you in the pearl business, too? Has Mrs. Sands commissioned you and some
+fellow called Peterson to sell her pearls to Mrs. Heron? Now I begin to
+see light! She tried to make a bargain with me over those pearls. I
+refused in Heron's name and my own. What's her game now, when there's
+nothing left to bargain for, and you've sent the papers back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sent the papers back!" Clo gasped into the telephone. This coming into
+touch with O'Reilly over the wire had been a shock. But she forgot the
+surprise of it in the new surprise of his last words.</p>
+
+<p>"Wasn't it you who sent them?" he went on.</p>
+
+<p>She stopped to think before daring a reply. O'Reilly had got the papers
+back, or he wanted her to think so, for some reason of his own.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you must know, perhaps I did send them," she prevaricated.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad to have this chance to thank you for repenting. I felt at the
+time you weren't the stuff trick-confidence-ladies and burglaresses are
+made of."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't exactly repent," confessed Clo. "I had an object to gain. I'm
+glad the papers weren't lost on the way. You're sure no one had tampered
+with the envelope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Apparently not. The messenger handed it to me sealed up and seemingly
+intact, with the address of my bank on it in my own handwriting. The boy
+wouldn't say how he knew I was staying at the Dietz. He is an ornament
+to his profession! I want you to know that I don't bear malice."</p>
+
+<p>As Clo listened she was surprised at the soothing effect of his voice
+upon her nerves. It was like hearing the voice of a friend. After all,
+why should they be enemies, since of the two O'Reilly was the injured
+party, and had just assured her that he didn't "bear malice?" But he was
+going on to ask what was the "object" she had wished to gain. "Do you
+mean to tell me, or is it one of your many mysteries?"</p>
+
+<p>"I realized I'd gone to work with you in the wrong way," she ventured.
+"Now I need someone's help. I need it horribly. It ought to be a man's
+help. And, except Mr. Sands, you're the only man I know."</p>
+
+<p>She heard O'Reilly laughing. He wouldn't laugh if he could see what her
+eyes saw!</p>
+
+<p>"So you want to call a truce?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if I could trust you."</p>
+
+<p>"I like that! I wasn't the betrayer. But never mind. Your second
+thoughts are best. And anyhow, you weren't working for yourself. Do you
+really want my help?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't I? But it would be for&mdash;for&mdash;&mdash;You know whom I mean. And you're
+her enemy, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not the least in the world. But I can't buy her pearls, and I'm sure
+Heron will refuse to bargain if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The pearls aren't for sale any more. They've been stolen. She thinks
+you took them for a hold-up."</p>
+
+<p>"The devil she does! But you know better. Tell me what you wish me to do
+for you, and I'll do it; I wanted to see you again. You were like a bad
+but interesting dream, broken off in the midst, that I longed to dream
+over again."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>feel</i> as if I had been broken off in the midst!" said Clo. "I may be
+broken past mending if somebody doesn't pick up the pieces good and
+quick! What I want you to do is to meet me outside the Westmorland. Will
+you? And if so, how soon?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will," came the answer. "I'll be there in eight minutes, with a taxi.
+Does that suit you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Have the taxi drawn up in front of the hotel, and as it slows
+down, I'll jump in. Give the chauffeur an order&mdash;before he starts&mdash;not
+to stop, you know, but to go on the instant I'm in. A lot may depend on
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"What mischief have you been up to?" asked the laughing voice, which to
+Clo, in the room of death, seemed to come from another world.</p>
+
+<p>She shuddered as her eyes turned to the figure in the chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye!" she said, and hung up the receiver without another word.</p>
+
+<p>Eight minutes! It would take her about three to get out of the room,
+down the stairs, and to the front door&mdash;if all went well. What was she
+to do with the other five? Now that her mission was ended, she could not
+stay where she was. She had reached, and almost passed, the limit of her
+endurance. One idle moment in that place would surely drive her mad! Yet
+she could not stand in the street, waiting for O'Reilly to come to the
+rescue. Kit and the man who had talked to Kit might be ready to pounce
+upon her there.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2>
+
+<h3>"WHAT'S DONE CAN'T BE UNDONE"</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Don't be frightened, Mums! It's only me, back earlier than I expected,"
+Ellen Blackburne announced herself at the door of her mother's bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blackburne was propped up in bed, reading Young's "Night Thoughts."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I'm not frightened!" she reassured her daughter. "I'm only
+surprised. That's what makes my hands tremble."</p>
+
+<p>"I was in hopes you'd have gone to sleep," said Ellen, "and I could slip
+in without giving you a start. I stopped the taxi at the corner on
+purpose."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm delighted to have you back. But why did you bring the pearls home
+to string? Now you'll be sitting up the whole blessed night!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worry!" Ellen soothed her. "I'm not going to sit up. I'm
+going to bed. Shall I leave the door open between the rooms while I
+undress, or shall I just kiss you good-night now, and let you rest in
+peace?"</p>
+
+<p>The little woman had sat down on the edge of the bed, but as she spoke,
+she stood up. It struck the older woman that, for some reason, she was
+in a hurry to get away.</p>
+
+<p>"There's something you don't want to tell me, isn't there, dear?" her
+mother quietly observed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you have the most wonderful intuition!" Ellen praised her parent.
+"I believe you could see through a wall. It's only that I didn't want to
+wake you up and make you nervous, so you would have a bad night."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall have a better night if I don't need to rack my brain thinking
+over what might have happened."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right!" sighed Ellen, and sat down again. "You're a grand
+safety valve, you know, Mums, because I can talk to you, and be sure
+that whatever I say will be locked up in your strong box. I meant to
+write all this down in my notebook, with initials instead of names; but
+the diary can't give advice. You can. Only&mdash;you're certain we hadn't
+best wait till to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't close my eyes!" said Mrs. Blackburne. "But I can say this
+to begin with: You did the right thing. You always do."</p>
+
+<p>"This is different from anything that ever came into my experience,"
+Ellen answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you before I started, I thought I was in for an exciting job. It
+wasn't only that Mr. Sands is a sort of celebrity, and everyone has been
+talking of Mrs. Sands as a beauty. It was the man himself gave me a kind
+of thrilled feeling the minute I saw him. Mums, Roger Sands is the sort
+I could fall in love with, if I was the falling-in-love type. He's
+strong and silent. He isn't a bit a woman's man. I don't know how to
+describe him, exactly. He made me feel as if I longed to do something
+for him. I was mighty keen to see what Mrs. Sands would be like. I
+suppose to see what style of woman he'd worship enough to pick up from
+the gutter."</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness me, child!" broke in Mrs. Blackburne, absorbed. "You don't
+mean that's where she came from? I never heard&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no! I oughtn't to have used that expression," Ellen confessed,
+"though they tell all sorts of stories about her origin. I daresay none
+of 'em are right, and not a soul knows the truth. People have given her
+a nickname: 'the girl from nowhere.' But you've only to see her to
+realize at once that whatever she was, she must have been brought up
+like a princess."</p>
+
+<p>"Handsome?"</p>
+
+<p>"A dream of beauty. She's worthy of her husband that way, but she's not
+in other ways. That's my excuse."</p>
+
+<p>"Your excuse, lovey? For what?"</p>
+
+<p>"For what I did. But you won't know why I did it, or forgive me for
+doing it, unless I tell you the story as I understand it."</p>
+
+<p>"Go right on, dear, and take your time. I won't interrupt again." So
+Ellen gave her mother a succinct account of all that had befallen her,
+until the fateful moment when she discovered that the pearls were not in
+their case.</p>
+
+<p>"The case empty! The pearls gone! My goodness me!" gasped the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"I never had such a scare in my life. Mrs. Sands had told me how she'd
+been dressing in her bedroom, with the door wide open into the boudoir,
+because the pearls were there, all ready for me to begin on, if I
+arrived before she'd got into her gown. She either believed the pearls
+were in the case, or else she wanted me to believe she believed it! The
+desperate state she was in, under her pretty manner, made me think maybe
+she was playing some dreadful trick, and after I'd got over the first
+shock of surprise I was mad with that woman. 'She doesn't care if she
+ruins me, so she can save herself from a scrape,' was what I thought
+about her. I made up my mind I wouldn't be catspaw, to pull her
+chestnuts out of the fire."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do?" breathed Mrs. Blackburne, sitting straight up in bed.</p>
+
+<p>"I rang the bell for the butler. He came to the door in an instant. I
+told him to call Mrs. Sands at once, it was urgent. I thought that would
+fetch her, but it didn't. It was the man who came back. He seemed a bit
+embarrassed: Mrs. Sands was very busy at the moment, it would be a
+little while before she was at liberty. It came into my head that she
+was leaving me alone as long as possible in the room where her wonderful
+pearls were supposed to be, so she could accuse me of making away with
+them, when the truth had to come out, that the pearls were gone. I saw
+just one thing to do. I told the butler to call Mr. Sands, quick. 'Mr.
+Sands is just going,' he said. 'I was ready to help him on with his coat
+when you rang.' 'Well, beg him to step in here one instant,' said I. The
+man went out; and I couldn't have counted ten before Mr. Sands appeared.
+I pointed to the empty case that was open on the table, and explained in
+about a dozen words&mdash;I wanted to finish before Madam arrived!&mdash;that Mrs.
+Sands had told me to look in the case for the pearls; that she went out
+in a hurry; and when I looked, the pearls weren't there. 'I sent and
+asked her to come,' I went on, 'but she was busy.'</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mother, the face of that man just broke my heart! It was more as
+if some awful thing he'd half expected, had come true. I might have
+stuck a knife in his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"'Does my wife know you asked for me when she couldn't come?' was the
+first thing he said after he'd stood quite still for a second or two. I
+told him no, I'd taken the responsibility on myself, and I hoped I
+hadn't done wrong.</p>
+
+<p>"'Not wrong,' said he. 'You meant well, I'm sure. Still, I wish the news
+had come to me from my wife and no one else.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then he walked over to the window, and stood looking out. If I hadn't
+known he was there, I shouldn't have seen him. The curtains were drawn,
+not all across, but partly, and it was a sort of bay window, so there
+was room for him to stand behind the curtains, in the shadow they made.
+He hadn't been there two seconds, I give you my word, when the door flew
+open, and Mrs. Sands bounced in.</p>
+
+<p>"'You sent for me?' she asked, and threw a look round the room, as if
+searching for someone. I felt I should die if her husband came out&mdash;but
+he didn't. I managed to stammer that the pearls weren't in their case,
+and so on; and it seemed as if my words turned her to a block of marble!
+She just stared at me. 'Maybe you think I stole the pearls!' I said
+right out. She assured me quite nicely that she believed nothing so
+foolish, and that even if I'd wanted to steal the things, I couldn't
+have smuggled them away from the house. (Of course, I could, though, if
+there had been time.) My heart melted to her, I must confess. But I was
+thinking more of her husband. It was up to me to get him out of the fix.
+I suggested to Mrs. Sands calling in Clo, to see what she could make of
+the business. The instant she was gone, out from the bay window stalked
+her husband! By that time I was at the door. I'd opened it for Mrs.
+Sands. I hardly dared glance at him&mdash;it seemed so prying. All I
+know&mdash;for sure, now&mdash;is that he stopped for an instant at the table. He
+had to pass it, on the way from his hiding place to the door. I supposed
+then, when he paused there, that he would be gazing at the empty velvet
+case. But he may have been doing something different&mdash;I'll tell you why
+and what, in a minute.</p>
+
+<p>"I stood without moving, and, as he came near the door he stopped again.
+'Miss Blackburne,' he said, 'you've been mixed up against your will, and
+not by any fault of your own, in an unfortunate business. It's a family
+affair, and I feel certain you'll keep your own counsel. Don't think I'm
+trying to bribe you. I'm not. But I should like you to accept this.' My
+arms were hanging straight down at my sides, but he managed to stick
+something into one of my hands. What do you think it was?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fifty dollars?" her mother guessed.</p>
+
+<p>"Fifty fiddlesticks! It was five hundred!"</p>
+
+<p>"My heavens! Enough to pay off the mortgage. But you couldn't possibly
+accept it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I said no. I swore that I'd done nothing to earn a cent: that wild
+horses wouldn't drag from me anything I'd seen, or heard, or even
+imagined, in his house. But Mr. Sands insisted. 'It will give me
+pleasure for you to have the money. It's little enough,' he said. Then
+he walked right out. He must have gone back to his own room instead of
+leaving the flat just then, for I saw him again later. I'll tell you
+about that. But do you think it was wrong to keep the money?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the circumstances, no," Mrs. Blackburne decided. "It would have hurt
+his feelings to give it back. Oh, my dear, five hundred dollars! It's
+like a fairy gift, just when we're needing it so much!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'd got the bills tucked away when Mrs. Sands came running in.
+She made for the table, the way a pointer goes for a shot bird. She
+hadn't a glance for the velvet case. She was searching for something
+else. Oh, Mother, it scared me to see her! She threw everything about.
+She was out of her head. A tall vase of flowers tipped over, and
+splashed water on the books, and even on the velvet case. I don't think
+she knew it had happened. Books fell on the floor. She didn't see or
+care. Then she sank all of a heap into a big chair close by. 'The
+envelope?' she gasped, as if she were choked by a hand on her throat.
+'It was there. Where is it now?'</p>
+
+<p>"I told her I hadn't seen any envelope, which was perfectly true. She
+described it: quite a big, long envelope, made of linen, and sealed up
+with several red seals. I swore over again I hadn't seen an envelope of
+any description. At last she had to believe me. But the worst was to
+come. 'Did you leave the room, for so much as a second, after I left
+you?' she asked, with her eyes on my face. I told her I hadn't stirred
+outside the door; but what I was scared of came next: 'Did any one come
+in?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, lovey, I hope you didn't have to tell a falsehood?"</p>
+
+<p>"That depends on what you call a falsehood," said Miss Blackburne. "I
+hate fibs as much as you do. But it was an awful fix!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was," Mums agreed.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," Ellen went on, to make her position clear, "I had asked Mr.
+Sands not to let his wife know I'd called him in. Later, he pressed that
+money on me, and I accepted it. I felt as if it had bought me, body and
+soul. When he stood by the table, he must have seen that envelope, and
+taken it. Well, now, I ask you, could I give him away?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see how you could," wailed the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Neither did I. 'Did any one come in?' I echoed, when Mrs. Sands put the
+question. 'Wouldn't I have mentioned it to you the first thing, if any
+one had?' Was that a falsehood, or wasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was a prevarication," answered Mrs. Blackburne, "and I think I
+should have done the same thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank goodness!" sighed Ellen. "That's what I wanted to know. You don't
+blame me, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I feel you acted for the best. And it's done now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's done, and can't be undone," the pearl-stringer echoed.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2>
+
+<h3>ROGER'S APPOINTMENT AT THE CLUB</h3>
+
+
+<p>Roger Sands dined alone at his club that night. Many men hailed him as
+he came in, very late, and in sixty seconds he received six invitations
+to dine. He refused them all, however.</p>
+
+<p>It was with the hope of meeting a certain man that Roger had gone to the
+club. He had excused himself to Beverley on the plea of an appointment,
+because he had wanted to be alone, and had no intention of dining
+anywhere.</p>
+
+<p>It was upon an impulse that he had taken the sealed envelope addressed
+to Justin O'Reilly. Afterward, he felt that his whole course of conduct,
+from the moment he had entered the room till the moment he had left the
+flat, was radically wrong. He ought, perhaps, to have shown himself to
+Beverley when she came in, despite Miss Blackburne's appeal. If he had
+done this, he would have learned the truth about that envelope. Seeing
+her husband at such a moment, Beverley must have betrayed herself, Roger
+thought, if there were anything to betray in connection with the
+envelope. Had its concealment been important, she would mechanically
+have sprung to hide it. Had it been left inadvertently by O'Reilly, for
+no concern of hers, Beverley's ignorance of his presence, or her
+indifference, would have cleared her in Roger's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He could not contemplate confessing to Beverley that he had hidden
+himself and then taken the envelope. She would probably say: "I never
+dreamed that you'd be mean enough to spy upon me! Why didn't you show
+yourself, like a brave man, instead of hiding?"</p>
+
+<p>No, he would not tell Beverley that he had been a witness of the scene
+between her and the pearl-stringer; nor that he was responsible for the
+vanishing of O'Reilly's envelope. Let her think what she liked about its
+loss, just as he&mdash;Roger&mdash;was free to think what he liked about the loss
+of the pearls! He would wait for Beverley to tell him that the pearls
+were gone. Her carelessness, to say the best of it, her ingratitude and
+disloyalty, to say the worst, gave him the right to keep his knowledge
+to himself. He would wait and see what Beverley meant to do. Then he
+decided to send back the sealed letter to O'Reilly. Ten minutes after
+leaving home he had given the envelope to a messenger, with directions
+to take it at once to the Dietz.</p>
+
+<p>It was when he had thus disciplined himself, that Roger turned toward
+the club. A man who was an old acquaintance of Roger's, and a friend of
+O'Reilly's, often dropped in there on a Sunday evening. Possibly he
+would come that night. Roger had thought of a question to ask. He saw
+that there might be a way to getting even with O'Reilly, a way just as
+efficacious, and more open, than the one he had sacrificed.</p>
+
+<p>While he pretended to dine and read an "evening edition," a hateful
+little voice in Roger's brain chirped suggestions to him. What if
+Beverley had somehow been in O'Reilly's power? What if she had written
+him love letters which afterward she wished to get back, and he refused
+to surrender? What if she had contrived to steal them, and O'Reilly had
+followed, for reprisals? What if, since then, the man had been torturing
+her, and Clodagh Riley (a poor relation of Justin O'Reilly's, perhaps)
+had been acting as a go-between? What if the girl had pretended illness
+as an excuse to bring O'Reilly into the flat, and the man had frightened
+Beverley into giving him the pearls?</p>
+
+<p>He was sipping his demi tasse, and had ceased to expect the man he
+wanted, when that man walked into the room. Before he could sit down at
+a neighbouring table Roger hailed him; a small, dark man of Jewish type,
+a man of forty-five, perhaps, with the brilliant eyes of a scientist and
+the arched brows of a dreamer.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Doctor Lewis! I've been hoping you'd blow in!" Sands said
+cordially. "Won't you dine with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you've finished. I'd be keeping you."</p>
+
+<p>"I want a talk with you, my dear chap," Roger assured him.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor sat down at Sands' table.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd have got here a long while ago," Doctor Lewis went on to explain,
+"but just as I was leaving the Dietz, where I have a patient, I was
+asked to stop and see&mdash;whom do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your friend, O'Reilly, perhaps. Someone mentioned to me that he was
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Lewis, "not O'Reilly, but as it happens, a friends of
+O'Reilly's, in the same hotel, who suddenly collapsed."</p>
+
+<p>"I can guess, then," replied Sands. "I know the Herons are at the Dietz.
+Your patient was one of those two&mdash;Mrs. Heron, I should say. I don't
+somehow see Heron 'collapsing.'"</p>
+
+<p>"My patient was Heron, not his wife. The attack was nothing serious, but
+Mrs. H&mdash;&mdash; was scared. You and Heron are as fast friends as ever, of
+course?"</p>
+
+<p>"I admire John Heron in many ways," Roger answered, indirectly.</p>
+
+<p>"And he ought to admire you, as certainly he does! A good many people
+thought you risked your life, throwing yourself into that business in
+California, the way you did, Sands. But you came out on top, and brought
+Heron out on top. Your reward was great!"</p>
+
+<p>Roger smiled. He was thinking of the journey back, after his triumph,
+and of Beverley. She had been his reward. Once it had seemed great.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen Heron since he got to New York?" said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet," said Sands.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he's hardly more than just arrived. Heron's a wiry chap. It needs
+a good deal to knock him over. If it had happened last summer, or fall,
+when the big row was on, there'd have been plenty of excuse, as Mrs.
+Heron remarked. It appears the two had been quietly sitting together
+down below, in the big hall, watching the crowd, and waiting for Justin
+O'Reilly to go in with them to dinner. Mrs. H&mdash;&mdash; sent Heron back to
+their bedrooms to find something she'd forgotten. She got scared at last
+when time passed and neither Heron nor O'Reilly came down. She went to
+see for herself what was up, and found her husband in a fainting fit.
+She 'phoned just as I was leaving my other patient, and by the time I
+arrived on the scene O'Reilly had floated in from the next-door suite.
+He'd been out while the Herons thought he was dressing to dine with
+them. All's well that ends well. Heron will be as brisk as ever in a day
+or two."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad to hear that," Roger said, gravely. "As you say, Heron's not a
+man to be knocked over easily. Last year, when I was in California, he
+came within an ace of being shot one night, and never turned a hair."</p>
+
+<p>"His wife was asking him, when he came to, a lot of questions. Heron
+wouldn't want to worry her, naturally. Didn't she have some great shock
+last summer, or fall, while you were out West? A brother who was killed,
+or killed himself?"</p>
+
+<p>"A brother who died suddenly. There was no proof of violence. The young
+man's death occurred the day I left, and not in California, but in New
+Mexico&mdash;near the town of Albuquerque, at a house belonging to Mrs.
+Heron. The Herons haven't been married many years," Roger went on. "Not
+more than eight or ten. Mrs. Heron can't be much over thirty. I never
+saw the brother. He was something of an invalid, and lived always at the
+Albuquerque place. His handsome sister stayed with him sometimes. He was
+a few years younger than she."</p>
+
+<p>Sands had the air of giving these details somewhat grudgingly, as a
+concession to the very evident curiosity of Lewis: but having satisfied
+it as far as necessary, he turned the conversation to his own affairs:
+the affairs, in fact, which had suggested to him this meeting with the
+doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Whenever I have leisure just now I cut down to Newport to see how the
+decorators get on with an alleged 'cottage' I've bought there for my
+wife," he said. "It's been quite an amusement to me for the past few
+weeks. I'm tired of living in an apartment, though ours isn't bad, as
+flats go. I want a house, and I want an old one, or my wife does, with a
+little romance of history attached to it. I'd like to get hold of one,
+as a surprise for her. I know there aren't many in the market. I suppose
+there's nothing good down in your neighbourhood?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, as you know, Gramercy Park and all round there has been pretty
+thoroughly modernized," said Lewis, who lived in a big new house of
+apartments, not far from Gramercy Park. "The only fine, old-fashioned
+mansion I can think of, that would just suit you is Miss Theresa
+O'Reilly's&mdash;a patient of mine&mdash;when she's any one's patient. Do you know
+anything about the ancient dame?"</p>
+
+<p>Roger knew so much that he had waited for Lewis entirely for the reason
+that Miss Theresa O'Reilly was a patient of his.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't she related to your friend, Justin O'Reilly?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"She's a distant cousin. As for the house, Justin feels that it ought to
+be his. I have this from her, not from him. The old lady told me the
+other day that she heard Justin had been hoarding up his money to buy
+the house, and was coming to New York on purpose to talk matters over,
+but she would refuse to see him."</p>
+
+<p>"A cranky old bird!" Sands sympathized.</p>
+
+<p>"You're right. Last year she mentioned to several people, me among
+others, that she thought of offering the place for sale if she could get
+a good price, because the New York climate gave her rheumatism, and
+she'd like to try the French Riviera. But the minute she'd spoken to
+me&mdash;a friend of Justin's&mdash;she could have cut out her tongue. You see,
+Justin's great-great-grandfather built the house: an Irishman who came
+over before the Revolution, and fought with the Americans against the
+English. It remained in the family till a few years before Justin's
+birth, when his father was obliged to sell through poverty, and move out
+West. This old lady, Theresa O'Reilly, was the purchaser. She was, of
+course, a youngish woman then, though no chicken. The story is that she
+loved Justin's father, and tried to catch him with her money&mdash;she was a
+rich heiress. He was on the point of engaging himself when he fell
+desperately in love with a poor girl Theresa employed as social
+secretary, or something of the sort. Out of revenge, Theresa went to
+work in secret ways to ruin Justin Senior, who was a gay, careless
+fellow, without too much money to lose, or too much patience to make
+more. She's said to have put men up to lead him into bad investments.
+Anyhow, she got the house, and California got the man and his family. I
+imagine there was a hard struggle out there at first. Young Justin has
+had to carve his own fortune: his father and mother, and an older
+brother, died when he was a boy. All this long story came out of your
+wanting an old house. It can't have interested you much, I'm afraid!"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, there's enough romance attached to that house!" said Roger,
+with a short laugh. "But Miss O'Reilly has changed her mind, and won't
+sell?"</p>
+
+<p>"So she assures me," answered Lewis. "You see, she couldn't be sure
+Justin wasn't standing behind a dummy buyer, now she knows he's
+definitely after the place, and able to purchase for a decent price. I
+take it that in the circumstances she won't sell to any one. Perhaps she
+never meant to when the test came."</p>
+
+<p>"So poor O'Reilly wants the home of his ancestors?"</p>
+
+<p>"He does. I've known of that dream for years. He told me once he'd grown
+up with it."</p>
+
+<p>Roger made his comment upon this: but he determined to write to Miss
+O'Reilly the moment Lewis had gone.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h2>
+
+<h3>KRANTZ'S KELLER</h3>
+
+
+<p>Clo had been able to think very clearly, while there had been something
+definite to think about, but her brain refused this problem of an extra
+five minutes, which might mean success or failure. She couldn't stop
+where she was; she couldn't hang about in the street, lest the real Kit
+had given the false Kit away to the "gang"; yet to dawdle in the
+corridor, or on the stairs of the Westmorland Hotel, was unthinkable.
+When the murder of Peterson was discovered someone might remember that
+slim girl in brown. The police were diabolically clever&mdash;now and then.
+Who could say if they might not trace that girl in brown, and, finding
+her, eventually reach Beverley Sands?</p>
+
+<p>"One minute must have gone, just while I've been thinking of it!" Clo
+told herself. "And Peterson hasn't come alive. Now, if I can only think
+hard enough, and forget him and the silence, for two or three minutes, I
+can start."</p>
+
+<p>But the silence broke. Once more her nerves thrilled to the telephone
+bell. She was standing by the door, her back resolutely turned to the
+figure in the chair, when the sound began. The girl snatched the
+receiver and called "Hello" but no one answered. She must get out
+quickly, at the risk of having to wait in the street before O'Reilly
+could arrive.</p>
+
+<p>"Unless they live close by, they won't have had time to reach me yet,
+even if Kit's given the show away," Clo thought. But of course, "Chuff"
+might have 'phoned from a house round the corner. Peterson might have
+chosen the Westmorland Hotel in order to be near his friends!</p>
+
+<p>Clo locked the door, took out the key, and dropped it behind the trunk
+at the end of the hall. That would not be unfair to the owner of the
+trunk, she thought, for in any case, the blood stains would direct
+suspicion to Peterson's vanished neighbour. The key would be only a
+detail.</p>
+
+<p>As she descended the stairways leading from the sixth story to the
+ground floor, she met two or three men, but they had the air of tired
+commercial travellers going up to bed. Apparently the veiled girl in
+brown had no special interest for them. Next came the ordeal of the
+entrance hall, and passing the desk; but there a new group of men had
+collected. Clo peered through her brown veil, but encountered no curious
+glances. Yet the worst was to come. The eight minutes could hardly have
+run out; besides, O'Reilly might be late. If "Kit" were true to her
+pals, and if she had seen from her hiding place in the trunk, who went
+into Peterson's room, the coming moment might hold the greatest peril of
+all. The girl hesitated at the door, then sprang into the street as she
+might have sprung into a wave.</p>
+
+<p>Plenty of people were passing as she walked slowly away. She had not
+taken many steps, however, when a taxi separated itself from others in
+the double line of moving vehicles, and slackened speed near the curb.
+The window was open, and Justin O'Reilly was looking out. Clo gave a
+welcoming cry, and waved Kit's bead bag. He caught her eye, spoke to the
+chauffeur, and the taxi slowed down, short of the hotel entrance. The
+girl ran back. O'Reilly held the door ajar, and, putting out his hand,
+pulled her in while the car was in motion. He had not forgotten her
+orders, and had instructed the driver. On bounded the taxi, as the door
+slammed shut, and the sudden jerk, before Clo was seated, flung her into
+O'Reilly's arms. He held her for a second or two, and then carefully set
+her by his side.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, I'm glad to have you safe!" he said in a warm, kind voice,
+which for some reason made Clo want to cry. "I've a hundred things to
+say and ask, you child or imp, but first of all, where do you want to
+go? Home, or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To Krantz's Keller," Clo finished the sentence. "Do you know where it
+is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said O'Reilly. "I know, though I've never been. But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got to go there," said Clo. "If you don't like, you needn't."</p>
+
+<p>"I do like!" he laughed. "What do you know about Krantz's Keller?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you that, and other things, when we arrive," said Clo.
+"Please, what time is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No thanks to you that I have a watch, and can answer that question," he
+thrust at her slyly. The street lights turned to ivory the small face
+from which Clo had pushed back the veil. It was a child's face, though
+not impish or defiant now; but the great dark eyes, it seemed to the
+man, were a woman's eyes. He was conscious that never in his life had he
+been so intensely interested in a female thing. She had tricked him, she
+had deceived and she had robbed him. Yet his dominant feeling was joyous
+triumph at having found her when he had thought her lost. He was happy
+because she had summoned him, excited because they were going side by
+side toward some unknown adventure.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at his watch which had been retrieved from the wall safe, and
+said that the time was twelve minutes to eleven. Krantz's Keller was in
+Fourteenth Street, and they could reach there at the hour, for already
+the cab was moving in the right direction. "Are you in a hurry?" he
+asked, "or shall we go a round-about way and talk things over? The
+Keller won't be at its best till nearly midnight."</p>
+
+<p>"I've a&mdash;sort of appointment at eleven-thirty," Clo said. "But I'd like
+to be on the spot before that, for a look round to get my bearings. I
+daresay I can tell you the whole story in twelve minutes. I've learned
+the lesson to-night that almost anything can happen, and you can live
+years in the time that it takes to button a pair of shoes."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly <i>you</i> can accomplish more in a few brief minutes than any
+other person I ever met! My own experience with you proves that!"
+O'Reilly laughed. But the girl's face was drawn. He remembered hearing
+that she had been dangerously ill. He wished her to realize that he was
+ready to give sympathy as well as help. "I don't want to talk of myself,
+but of you. Tell me what you care to tell. You may trust me."</p>
+
+<p>"You're sure?" insisted Clo. "I'm putting my life in your hands."</p>
+
+<p>"I've just my word to give," O'Reilly answered. "Look me in the face and
+decide if it's worth taking."</p>
+
+<p>Clo looked him in the face, and said, "Yes! I'll tell you everything.
+Please don't ask questions, or speak till I finish."</p>
+
+<p>Since the moment when he had been surprised by her voice at the
+telephone, and she had claimed his help, O'Reilly had thought of
+fantastic things, but they were commonplace compared to the story she
+flung at his head. To make him understand, in ten minutes, why she had
+to be at Krantz's Keller meant that she must spring all her facts upon
+him. Already, without knowing how she had escaped at the Dietz, O'Reilly
+had formed the opinion that she was a girl, not in a thousand but in
+many thousands. Now, listening in silence, he heard her tell what she
+had found, and what she had done, in Peterson's room. She spoke in
+simple words. Yet O'Reilly saw the scene as if his eye were at a
+keyhole; saw the girl realize that she was in the presence of a man not
+only dead, but murdered; saw the battle between horror and courage as
+she searched the room and the pockets of the corpse whose blood-stained
+clothing was still warm. He heard the bell of the telephone. He followed
+Clo into the room next door, and marvelled at the way in which she drew
+information from "Chuff." When the taxi slowed down in Fourteenth
+Street, she had but reached the point where she "made a dash for the
+street." O'Reilly's brain had been busy. He was ready to give the advice
+expected.</p>
+
+<p>Clo was talking still, while he paid the chauffeur and sent him away. As
+they entered the restaurant below which lay Krantz's Keller,
+breathlessly she brought her story to an end. "There! You know all I
+know!"</p>
+
+<p>While they went downstairs side by side, step by step, O'Reilly gazed at
+the girl's profile. "I'm going to fall in love with this strange child,"
+he thought. "I'm in love with her already."</p>
+
+<p>They penetrated the blue curtain of tobacco smoke which veiled the
+cellar restaurant. People of all sorts were sitting at small, uncovered
+wooden tables, which were painted green. There were long-haired
+foreigners; there were rich American Jews. There were girls who looked
+like "show girls" or chorus girls at least, companioned by fashionably
+dressed and silly-faced boys. And all the company drank wine from oddly
+shaped bottles, or beer out of stone or pewter "krugs." At the end of
+the long, narrow room stood two huge casks, one on either side of a
+small stage where three men in the costumes of Tyrolese peasants played
+a zither, a 'cello, and a violin, for a gaily dressed boy and girl to
+dance.</p>
+
+<p>There were a number of tables still unoccupied, and of these a few were
+free. O'Reilly chose one close to the entrance. Seated there, he and Clo
+could see everybody who came in or went out. If they themselves wished
+to leave in a hurry it would be a convenient place.</p>
+
+<p>Clo could not even pretend to eat. She asked for strong coffee, and not
+to be conspicuous O'Reilly ordered for himself beer, and food with an
+odd, Russian sounding name. Having thus bought their right to the table,
+he leaned across to the pale girl.</p>
+
+<p>"The time's come when I can tell you what I think," he said. "First,
+what I think of you. You're the bravest person I ever met, and the most
+loyal. If the woman for whose sake you've done this is worthy of her
+friend, why, I'll be on her side from this night on."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Clo, meekly. She was very tired, but vitality flowed
+through her newly at O'Reilly's words and look. "I don't deserve such a
+compliment, but she deserves everything. If I've behaved badly to you,
+it was for her."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," said O'Reilly. "But you weren't precisely 'bad.' You were, on
+the whole, rather&mdash;wonderful. How did you get out of my room with the
+only door locked on the inside?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" the girl cried, surprised, "I thought you'd guess. I went along
+the stone ledge under the window of your bedroom till I came to an open
+window of a room in the next suite."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of that, when it was too late; but it seemed incredible."</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't as hard to do as I was afraid it would be," said Clo. "The
+other window was open, the curtain was blowing out. I caught hold of it,
+and got along somehow, through not looking down. Then in the room where
+I went in, there was a man. He was at the door, and I scared him popping
+in that way at the window, so he let me run past. That's all." Firmly
+the girl closed the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's talk about the pearls," she said. "Peterson was a wicked man. I
+can't pretend to be sorry he's been killed. He was acting for others
+higher up. I want to find Kit, not because I think she murdered him, but
+because I'm sure she's got the pearls. Who called out 'Come in!' in a
+man's voice, when Peterson was dead? We haven't got time to discuss the
+whole business before half-past eleven. Here comes my coffee! It's going
+to give me new life!"</p>
+
+<p>"You must need it. Try to nibble a few crumbs of this rusk," O'Reilly
+advised. "I've been thinking hard since you told me how 'Chuff' 'phoned
+to 'Pete,' and took you for Kit. As for the voice that called 'Come in',
+the wall being thin, a man in the room close by might think the knock
+was at his door. You're almost surely right about Kit being in the hotel
+to watch Peterson. No doubt he was acting for men who have the power
+to&mdash;trouble Mrs. Sands. Don't look at me like a wild cat! I shan't tell
+what you don't want to hear, but there certainly are such men. Most
+likely Peterson followed us into the Sands' apartment without being
+noticed in the wild confusion of your fainting. He was there to get hold
+of the thing he was blackmailing her for, the thing you went back to my
+hotel to steal, and then repented stealing. Naturally Peterson didn't
+find it, as it was still in my safe at the Dietz, but he might have seen
+the pearls. The fellow must have been hiding close to Mrs. Sands and me,
+when we talked, or he wouldn't have known that John Heron had wanted to
+buy those pearls! He 'phoned, later, from the Westmorland to Heron, as
+you must have guessed from what I 'phoned back. As for Kit, she was in
+her room next door when he called Heron up, and heard about his having
+pearls to sell; or else she went in to help him pack, and saw them. But
+it strikes me that a young woman of her class wouldn't bash a man on the
+head, and risk the Chair, for the righteous joy of turning a fortune
+over to her pals. No, if she killed Peterson, she killed him because she
+wanted the pearls for herself or a 'sweetheart.'"</p>
+
+<p>"There's Churn," said Clo. "He and Kit may be a 'case.' She may have
+gone straight to him with the pearls."</p>
+
+<p>"'Churn's' possibly a nickname for that Lorenz Czerny, whose name you
+found written on a visiting card," O'Reilly said. "What with that card,
+and the memorandum, and Kit's bag, we ought to get on to the track of
+the gang. I'm on Mrs. Sands' side now. But I know a private detective
+who's worked for clients of mine. He's close as an oyster, and true as a
+compass. Chuff may keep his appointment, or he may not. If the real
+Kit's turned up and told the truth, perhaps he won't dare, for fear of a
+trap. Still, he may, if he's got pluck, and a good disguise&mdash;or if the
+police have nothing 'on' him. The gang won't want the false Kit to get
+away with what she knows if the real one's true to them. And they'll be
+eager to see whom they're up against. That's why I should like to have
+Denham&mdash;the detective&mdash;on the spot."</p>
+
+<p>"Would that be the best way to get the pearls?" asked Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you suggest a better one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not on the spur of the moment."</p>
+
+<p>"It's on the spur of the moment we must decide."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;'phone Denham."</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said O'Reilly. "I think I ought to get him now unless he's on
+some job. I'll be back in a few minutes. There's no danger of serious
+trouble for you here."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm used to taking care of myself," said Clo. The hot, strong coffee
+had brought a faint colour to her face, and she looked up with one of
+those "cheeky" grins of hers, such as his "cousin" had given him at the
+Dietz. O'Reilly went away bewitched with the creature, absorbed in her.
+She had done so much for the love of a woman. What would she do for love
+of a man?</p>
+
+<p>He had to go upstairs to the telephone, it seemed, at Krantz's. Then the
+line was busy. He was obliged to wait.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile a tall girl, in a bright pink cloak over a pink dress, hurried
+through the gloomy restaurant. She paused only to glance at a clock on
+the wall, and then ran downstairs to the "Keller."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GIRL IN PINK</h3>
+
+
+<p>Clo sat watching the crowd. She had removed her veil, and the long,
+brown cloak lent by Beverley. The latter she had folded, and was sitting
+upon it.</p>
+
+<p>It was then, when most of the tables were taken, and when a young tenor
+with a good voice had replaced the Italian peasants, that the girl in
+pink walked in. Clo sat with her face to the entrance, and happened to
+be looking that way. At sight of the girl, who came in alone, it was all
+she could do to sit still. She felt the blood stream to her face, and
+taking up the empty coffee cup, pretended to drink.</p>
+
+<p>"Gracious, why did I never think of her!" she wondered. For this was the
+girl who had got out of the elevator at the Westmorland, and had been
+stared at by the men, when Clo and Beverley descended the stairs from
+Peterson's room. Would there have been time after they had turned their
+backs for Kit to get out of the brown trunk (if she'd been in it!),
+fasten the lid, and descend to the lift while the two women went down
+the six flights of stairs?</p>
+
+<p>Yes, there would have been time. Clo was thankful that she had disposed
+of her veil, and was sitting on the cloak. Here at Krantz's she was only
+a girl in a white dress, with a brown toque which at the Westmorland had
+been hidden with a veil.</p>
+
+<p>There were two or three tables still disengaged, but the one with the
+best view of the stage was the one nearest Clo. The girl in pink tripped
+to it, without hesitation, stood for a minute staring at the singer, and
+sat down. Clo watched her. She could not be certain, but she thought the
+girl had caught the eye of the singer and had made him a sign.</p>
+
+<p>Not only had he a good voice, but he was good to look at, dark and
+rather "dashing," "almost like a second-hand gentleman," as Clo said to
+herself. His song pleased the audience, who clapped violently, demanding
+another. But the young man smiled, threw out his hands, shrugged,
+touched his throat, and bowed himself off the stage. By this time the
+girl in pink had ordered a bottle of wine which, to judge by the loving
+care of the waiter, must have been rare and expensive.</p>
+
+<p>The singer sat down with his back to Clo, his companion at his side.
+Thus they were able to draw close, and talk without much fear of being
+overheard.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord, Churn, I thought I'd missed you," were the first words Clo
+caught. As the girl spoke she flung a quick glance toward her little
+neighbour at the next table, but Clo had never looked so child-like. "I
+went to the Riche, and you'd gone," Kit continued. "To the Western; too
+late. Gosh! how I hiked for this place! I don't know what I'd done if
+I'd lost you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Vot's de row?" Churn asked cheerfully, speaking with a slight and
+rather agreeable foreign accent. He poured himself a tumblerful of the
+deep-coloured red wine, and drank as if it were water.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Churn, a big thing's happened. I can't tell you here."</p>
+
+<p>"You want I take you to de hotel?"</p>
+
+<p>"No! I'm never goin' back there. And I can't go to my own digs either.
+I'll explain by and by. Could you take me home with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Jake'll be comin' in."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let's go to Chuff's. We must be somewhere! I've got a thing to
+show you, Churn. If there's two rooms free in the house we'll take
+'em&mdash;or, no, better take one. You'll see why we must be together when
+you know. Say, here's money to pay the wine&mdash;looks better for you than
+me. Then we'll be off."</p>
+
+<p>Clo gazed at the door. No O'Reilly yet. But if this pair went she would
+have to go, too. She mustn't lose them!</p>
+
+<p>Churn beckoned a waiter with a ten-dollar bill thrust into his hand by
+Kit. The waiter came; but he had to get change. In Clo's lap, hidden
+under her napkin, was the bag she had found in Kit's room. Stealthily
+she opened it and took out a stub of pencil she had noticed among the
+contents. On the table lay a programme of the evening's entertainment.
+Neither she nor O'Reilly had glanced at it; but now the girl eagerly
+examined the list. Among the names was that of "Lorenz Czerny, Tenor";
+and Clo underlined it with the pencil. Beneath, on the margin, she
+scrawled: "Kit's come and has been talking to him. They're going away. I
+must follow. I leave you all materials for the search&mdash;except the pearl.
+I keep that. Don't worry about me. I'll take care of myself."</p>
+
+<p>Clo had plenty of money, supplied by Beverley, so a five-dollar bill was
+laid conspicuously on the crumbs of rusk.</p>
+
+<p>Kit and Churn were on their feet. The waiter had given change, and Churn
+was counting it out. Both stood with their backs to Clo. Clo slipped the
+programme into the bead bag and the bead bag into a pocket of Beverley's
+brown silk coat, on which she had been sitting. She then whisked the
+folded garment from her own chair on to O'Reilly's, and covered it with
+his napkin.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope to goodness I'll meet him on the way up," she thought, "or
+before I get out of the restaurant above. I daren't take the cloak where
+she might see it. Besides, he must have the bag and memorandum."</p>
+
+<p>Churn gave the waiter a fifty-cent piece, and followed Kit, who had
+started. Neither looked back; and Clo beckoned the waiter. "I've an
+engagement," she said, "and can't wait longer for the gentleman I came
+with. He's upstairs telephoning. You tell him I've paid. Never mind the
+change. I'm leaving my coat for the gentleman to bring home. Can I trust
+you to be sure and give it to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can, miss," said the man. "I'll take charge of it myself."</p>
+
+<p>He looked trustworthy as well as grateful. Kit and Churn were winding
+their way among the tables. Clo pushed after them. O'Reilly was not on
+the stairs, nor was he visible in the dull restaurant above. He had the
+all-important envelope, it was true, and she could not guess who had
+returned it in a way to make him suppose it came from her. O'Reilly was,
+however, an honourable man, and he had promised to be "on Mrs. Sands'
+side." In the circumstances she saw only one course, and regretfully,
+even fearfully, took it. When Kit and Churn walked out into the street
+she walked after them, a few paces behind.</p>
+
+<p>Clo had been gone precisely four minutes when O'Reilly tore downstairs
+burning to apologize and explain. Mrs. Denham had said that her husband
+was out, but she knew where he was, and would 'phone; if
+he&mdash;O'Reilly&mdash;would hold the line she'd have an answer "in no time."
+Presently he had been rewarded by "getting" Denham, who, on hearing that
+he was urgently wanted, promised to cut short some work he was doing
+late at the office, and taxi to Krantz's. This was good news, and
+O'Reilly was sure Clo would think it had been worth waiting for. He
+could not believe his eyes when he saw the deserted table. What could
+have happened to the girl?</p>
+
+<p>He stood forlornly for a moment, staring round the room. As his eyes
+searched vainly, the waiter who had served him came hurrying up.</p>
+
+<p>"The young lady's gone, sare. She had to go&mdash;very sorry. She left me dis
+to give you when you come back. She pay de bill, sare, but I keep de
+table for you. You not finish your supper."</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly had a stab of violent resentment against Clo. But the thought
+had only to pass through his brain to be rejected. The girl was a
+strange girl, audacious and unscrupulous in her loyalty to Mrs. Sands;
+but she could not have told her story in a way to impress its truth upon
+him unless she had been sincere.</p>
+
+<p>"The young lady didn't give you any other message?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sare. She was in much hurry. But I see her mark on a piece of
+paper," the waiter replied. "Maybe she write you a note."</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly reflected. Which should he do, look for a message in the pocket
+of the coat Clo had left, or dash upstairs and find out which way she
+had gone? It was almost certain that he would now gain nothing by the
+latter course.</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly sat down at the table, in the chair where he had sat before. He
+found the one pocket in the brown coat, and in that pocket Kit's jet and
+steel bag. There was nothing else there, so he opened the bag cautiously
+in case some of Kit's friends had arrived. As he did so, the folded
+programme dropped out.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII</h2>
+
+<h3>WHEN BEVERLEY CAME HOME</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Clo had shut the taxi door almost in Beverley's face, and had given
+the chauffeur orders to drive on, she had said to herself, "Angel will
+be so surprised she won't know what to do for a minute. And by the time
+she pulls herself together, she'll realize it's too late to stop me."</p>
+
+<p>The girl had judged well. Beverley shrank back from the slammed door
+with a jump of the nerves. Then she guessed what Clo meant to do. She
+was in the act of tapping to stop the chauffeur, and tell him to turn,
+when the question seemed to ask itself aloud in her brain, "What good
+will it do for you to go back?"</p>
+
+<p>Before she could reach Clo, if she returned to the hotel now, the girl
+would have learned the secret of Peterson's room. When she saw what
+Beverley had seen, she would know that there was nothing to be done with
+a dead man. She would slip away to avoid being mixed up in the business
+of the murder. She would not risk being caught. The girl was too
+sensible, and she had plenty of money as well as brains. She had shown
+herself equal to desperate emergencies. She would be equal to this. She
+was so quick-witted that she would know what to do, and how to do it.
+Beverley let the chauffeur drive on. He went to the corner where he had
+been hailed by his two passengers. There he stopped, and Beverley got
+out. She paid him; and making a pretence of examining her change in the
+light of a street lamp, stood still until the taxi had turned and shot
+out of sight. Then, with the bag of jewels which Clo had tossed into her
+lap, she walked home. Her latch-key opened the door of the flat, she
+entered her boudoir, and fell into a chair, sitting as still as the dead
+Peterson had sat. It was not much past ten o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later she took off hat and cloak, and peeped into her
+bedroom to see if her maid were there. But the room was empty, and she
+put away the gray mantle and toque where she had found them. She did not
+forget to toss carelessly upon her bed the hat she had worn in the
+afternoon, and a pair of white gloves; then she rang for her maid who
+came almost at once. She had gone out, Beverley explained quietly, to
+help Miss Riley transact a little matter of business.</p>
+
+<p>It was eleven-thirty when L&eacute;ontine bade her mistress good-night and
+softly closed the bedroom door. She had noticed nothing strange in the
+manner of Madame, except an unusual lack of vitality.</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Beverley opened the door of the big, bare room. "Clo," she
+called softly.</p>
+
+<p>No answer. She switched on the light. No one was there, and Beverley
+hurried on to the little room beyond, which had been Sister Lake's. It,
+too, was empty. Something grave, perhaps terrible, had detained the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>"She won't come&mdash;she won't come at all." Beverley said aloud. "What
+shall I do?" She could not abandon the fragile child who loved her, who
+had stood by her with wonderful strength and courage throughout this
+dreadful day. Yet what was there she could do?</p>
+
+<p>Roger returned about one o'clock. He moved quietly, as if in order not
+to disturb his wife, but she heard the cautious closing of his door. She
+did not try or wish to sleep, but lay on her bed, waiting for day.</p>
+
+<p>After six o'clock Beverley could lie still no longer. She stole into her
+bathroom, and bathed in cold water. But she felt as utterly spent after
+her bath as before.</p>
+
+<p>This morning she did penance by putting on a tailor-made, white linen
+suit, of a slightly severe cut, and made her toilet without ringing for
+L&eacute;ontine. She decided to breakfast at the customary hour and in the
+customary place, but she did not expect to be joined by Roger. She was
+still in her bedroom, fastening a brooch, when he tapped at her door.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in!" she cried, eager for the meeting, yet sick with fear. Roger
+came in, fully dressed, looking cool and well groomed. To Beverley's sad
+heart it seemed that he had never been so handsome&mdash;or so hard.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning," he said, as he might have spoken to any friend. "I heard
+you stirring about, so I thought I might knock. Are you going out
+early?" as his eyes wandered over her dress.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean because I'm dressed? No, I didn't think of it. I couldn't
+sleep. The night was hot, and the heat was on my nerves, I suppose, so I
+got up at six. I hope I didn't disturb you, Roger?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," he politely replied. "I've some business which will take
+me out half an hour sooner than usual. I suppose they can give us
+breakfast in time for that? Coffee and toast and grape fruit can't take
+long to make ready?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll ring for breakfast. I didn't know if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't know&mdash;what?" he caught up her sentence as it broke.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing&mdash;important," she excused herself. Yet she was sure he knew
+what had stopped her short of saying that she didn't know if he would
+breakfast with her in the boudoir.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I daresay Johnson has put the newspapers in their place by this
+time," Roger said, ignoring her embarrassment. "I'll have a look, to
+save time. You'll come when you're ready? I've a suggestion to make that
+I think you'll like."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke pleasantly, not at all as if he had a grudge against his wife.
+Many women would have been satisfied with such a manner; but Beverley
+was not of the "many women," and Roger had never been like other,
+ordinary husbands. For the first morning since that day in Chicago when
+he had asked her to be his wife, they had not kissed.</p>
+
+<p>"It will always be like this from now on," she told herself. "I hope I
+shall die. I can't live without his love, and go on seeing him every
+day!"</p>
+
+<p>Roger had not mentioned Clo, and Beverley held her peace. She thought it
+would be best to wait and see what the newspapers said. At the end of
+ten minutes, as the breakfast tray was being placed on the lace table
+cover, she strolled into the boudoir. Roger hardly looked up, feigning
+to be deeply interested in his paper. On other mornings&mdash;the servant
+being out of the room&mdash;he would have sprung from his chair to place
+hers, and perhaps to kiss the long braid of her golden brown hair, or
+the back of her white neck as it showed under her fetching little cap.</p>
+
+<p>"Any exciting news?" she asked in a casual tone, as she sat down&mdash;the
+sort of tone which other wives perhaps use to other husbands.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing that interests us specially," Roger answered. "A rather sordid
+murder, at a third-rate hotel; there's a mystery, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"What hotel?" Beverley ventured to ask, pouring coffee with a hand that
+would shake.</p>
+
+<p>"One I never heard of before. Let me see, what's the name? Oh, the
+'Westmorland.' You'll not be interested. Let's get to the thing I want
+to talk about. Can you guess what it is?"</p>
+
+<p>Beverley shook her head. "I am a bad guesser."</p>
+
+<p>"It's partly about your pearls. By the by, was the pearl-stringer
+satisfactory?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, quite," Beverley murmured, sipping her coffee.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad she made a good job. The rope looks as fine as if no accident
+had happened, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a&mdash;wonderful rope," his wife managed to reply.</p>
+
+<p>"I imagined you'd be wearing your gewgaws for breakfast this morning
+just to show they were all right!" Roger's eyes smiled coolly into hers.
+It was a cruel smile.</p>
+
+<p>"A rope of pearls at breakfast&mdash;on a tailor gown of linen&mdash;and a queen's
+pearls at that! What bad taste! I shall wear these splendours only on
+the greatest occasions."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've arranged a great occasion," said Roger. "That's principally
+what I want to talk about. I'd like you to send out invitations for a
+house party and a big dinner and dance directly after we're settled in
+the Newport cottage. And I'd like to move there sooner than we meant.
+I've decided to take a few weeks' holiday. We'll both be better out of
+the city."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" Beverley agreed.</p>
+
+<p>"And I want you to do a thing to please me. Wear the queen's
+pearls&mdash;your pearls&mdash;on the night of the dinner and dance."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>MR. JONES OF PEORIA</h3>
+
+
+<p>O'Reilly had only just finished reading Clo's note, had folded it up,
+and put it in his pocket when he was joined by a man at whom, for a
+second, he stared as at a stranger. Then a slight contraction of the
+newcomer's eyelid and a twinkle in his eye enlightened Justin.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this is good, meeting you!" exploded a jolly voice. "I hoped you
+hadn't forgotten poor old Dick Jones, though it's a long time since you
+blew out our way to Peoria. I'm here in little old New York, seeing the
+sights."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course, I remember you very well, Mr. Jones," said O'Reilly.
+"Sit down at my table, do. What'll you have, in memory of old times?"</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, he took in the extraordinary changes Mr. William J. Denham
+had made in his personal appearance. Denham was a slender, youngish man,
+neat and dapper, with light brown hair, a smooth face, and pale skin.
+Jones had reddish, rumpled eye-brows, puffy pink lids, and large, roving
+eyes behind convex glasses. His hair was also red and rumpled, and
+though he was not enormously stout, he was clumsily built, with a
+decided paunch.</p>
+
+<p>When he had sat down at O'Reilly's table, the absence of near neighbours
+and the momentary inattention of waiters gave the two men a chance to
+speak freely. "You sent a hurry call. Something up at Krantz's this
+peaceful Sabbath?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's more up than I want to come out," said O'Reilly. "Things have
+changed since I 'phoned, but there's more need of you than ever. The
+girl I wanted to help was with me. While I talked to you, she
+disappeared...."</p>
+
+<p>"Disappeared!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I couldn't follow, because when I knew what had happened it was
+too late to get on her track; otherwise you'd have found me flown. I'd
+have sacrificed you for her, if there'd been even a sporting chance. But
+I didn't see one. Maybe you will, when I put you wise: or somebody may
+show up whose face will give you a tip. I'll tell you what I
+know&mdash;except the name of a lady which mustn't come into the business
+even with discretion incarnate like you."</p>
+
+<p>"Reservations often spoil jobs," said Denham.</p>
+
+<p>"Mine won't."</p>
+
+<p>The coming of a waiter broke the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Anybody interesting here?" asked Justin, when the waiter had gone.</p>
+
+<p>"No familiar faces. But there may be, later."</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly shook his head. "It's a quarter to twelve. The man or men who
+made an appointment&mdash;not with me; with the girl who's gone&mdash;should have
+turned up at eleven-thirty."</p>
+
+<p>"If they're sure of themselves&mdash;sure their faces aren't known&mdash;they're
+probably here," remarked Denham. "But out with your story. A lot may
+hang on that."</p>
+
+<p>"A lot does," said O'Reilly; and told it. He omitted no detail given by
+Clo except such as led too close to Mrs. Sands. O'Reilly hardly
+disguised the fact that the crime and its punishment were of slight
+importance to him compared with the finding of Clo Riley. "I don't want
+her mixed up in this murder business," he finished, "and she doesn't
+want to be mixed up in it, not for her own sake, but because of the
+woman she's protecting. You could get the name of that woman, but I ask
+you not to concern yourself with it."</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are," Denham reassured him. "I've got enough to do without
+meddling in other folks' business. The lady outside the case doesn't
+exist. But as for 'Churn' being Lorenz Czerny, it doesn't go without
+saying that we shall spot Chuff and Jake, and the rest of the gang
+through him. That will depend on himself, and his Moll&mdash;Kit. I wouldn't
+mind offering your young lady a good place and good pay when this mix-up
+comes to an end."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not believe she'll be looking for work," said O'Reilly.</p>
+
+<p>"This Kit must be pretty sharp, too. It looks as if Churn was her
+'steady.' If she did the job at the Westmorland, it was to set him and
+her up in housekeeping, later on, well away from Chuff and Co. Looks as
+if Kit had been used for a catspaw, and maybe hadn't got enough out of
+the job for herself. Suddenly she saw a whole dazzling lot. I can't get
+on to who this Kit is yet. But maybe I will. Your little friend does
+shoot quick&mdash;and low."</p>
+
+<p>"She does," said O'Reilly. "But she doesn't hit below the belt."</p>
+
+<p>"Folks like Kit and Churn and Chuff haven't got belts," said Denham.</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly laughed again. But he wanted Clo. She was made for him&mdash;the
+demon, the darling, the only girl he had ever seriously desired. He
+hadn't known that she existed till to-night, when she'd begun their
+acquaintance by tricking and stealing from him. Though he might laugh,
+he wouldn't know a happy moment till she was safe. For an instant he
+forgot Denham and the business in hand. "I think she likes me," he told
+himself. "I'll make her like me a lot more when I get half a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"That couple will hide," Denham was saying. "Churn may send word to
+Krantz that he can't sing; he'll say he's sick. But I shan't do any such
+thing as put Krantz wise that his tenor is wanted. Krantz is a fox. Our
+hope is in Miss Riley."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll come to the Dietz, won't you?" asked O'Reilly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the detective, finishing his cool beer. "I'll come. But I
+haven't got much hope from what may be in that bead bag. People who have
+things to hide, hide 'em better than in bags. However, we'll see." When
+Justin had paid for Denham's drink, they went, with the bead bag in the
+pocket of Clo's brown cloak hanging over O'Reilly's arm. It was after
+midnight.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX</h2>
+
+<h3>ACCORDING TO THE MORNING PAPERS</h3>
+
+
+<p>Roger had talked of nothing but his plan for the Newport house-warming,
+after starting the subject; and he had told Beverley that they ought to
+be able to move in a week. She must make everything right about the
+servants: he would see to outside arrangements. And this "big party"
+could take place in a fortnight. It was ostentatious sending out
+invitations longer in advance. They must make a "splash"&mdash;worthy of the
+house&mdash;and the pearls. Beverley must think up something original in the
+way of entertainment&mdash;a surprise. And as he talked it seemed to the girl
+that his eyes never left her face. Beverley promised to move to Newport
+when Roger wished. She promised to write the invitations, and&mdash;she
+promised to wear the queen's pearls.</p>
+
+<p>At last Roger went, without having alluded to Clodagh Riley. Whether
+this were deliberate, or careless, Beverley could not guess. But she was
+thankful.</p>
+
+<p>The instant Roger had gone Beverley seized the paper he had dropped, and
+found what she wanted. "Mysterious Murder at Hotel Westmorland" was the
+heading at the top of a column on the first page. She sat down and read
+the whole report.</p>
+
+<p>That day was among the most terrible of Beverley's chequered life. She
+had had several engagements, but she telephoned to put them off. Not for
+anything would she have left the house, for she hoped to have a message
+from Clo. She feared to hear also from one whom Peterson served, but it
+was best that she should be at home if such a message arrived.</p>
+
+<p>"Have they kept their word? Have they killed Stephen because I didn't
+send back the papers?" she constantly asked herself. "What will they do
+next? Will they advertise again in the newspapers? Will they telephone?
+Will they send another man, now Peterson is dead? Or if not, how will
+they reach me? Surely they won't leave me in peace for long!"</p>
+
+<p>The day passed with outward monotony. It was only within herself that
+each moment was different from every other.</p>
+
+<p>When evening came at last, nothing had happened, yet Beverley's nerves
+were jarred as if by a succession of shocks. As L&eacute;ontine dressed her for
+dinner, a sharp tap at the door made her jump and cry out. "A
+special-delivery letter for me, Madame," announced the Frenchwoman.
+"Have I Madame's permission? It is strange I do not know the hand. It is
+but a common yellow envelope, addressed in pencil, to Mademoiselle
+L&eacute;ontine Rossignol&mdash;perhaps from someone who begs. Never have I received
+a letter by special delivery!"</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better open it," said Beverley, relieved that the letter was not
+for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Rossignol is so odd a name, Madame, that everyone remembers, because it
+means nightingale," said L&eacute;ontine, gingerly tearing off an end of the
+flimsy yellow envelope.</p>
+
+<p>Then, suddenly she cried out. "But Madame, the letter is from
+Mademoiselle Riley! I do not see why she writes to me. I understand
+nothing of what she says. Will Madame read?"</p>
+
+<p>Hiding eagerness, Beverley took the half sheet of commercial paper.</p>
+
+<p>The letter began:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear L&eacute;ontine</span>:</p>
+
+<p>I am safe in my new home, and there's no need to worry. I am
+picking up all that I have lost. I hope to call on you before long
+and show what good progress I have made. With grateful messages for
+Madame, from her devoted little servant, and kind remembrance to
+you&mdash;I am, faithfully yours,</p>
+
+<p>Clodagh Riley.</p>
+
+<p>P.S.&mdash;If possible I should like Mr. O'R. to hear that I am doing
+well. He has been kind since you saw me last.</p></div>
+
+<p>There was no date and no address on this letter, which filled only one
+page.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley's bewilderment passed as she studied the letter. Clo's
+underlying motives came to the surface with a flash.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," she explained quietly, "that Mademoiselle fancied it would
+be a liberty to write to me. I'm glad to hear from her so soon. As the
+letter is really for me, perhaps I'd better keep it."</p>
+
+<p>"Please do, madame," L&eacute;ontine urged, again attacking the tiny hooks
+which fastened her mistress's dinner dress. "I noticed that Mademoiselle
+did not put the number of the house or street where she is staying. But,
+of course, Madame will know both."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," echoed Beverley. She guessed that L&eacute;ontine must be consumed
+with curiosity as to Clo's disappearance and the departure of Sister
+Lake.</p>
+
+<p>When L&eacute;ontine had hooked the last hook Beverley went to the boudoir.
+There she sat down with Clo's cryptic message, praying that Roger might
+not come till she had unravelled it.</p>
+
+<p>But, after all, the meaning of one sentence after another sprang quickly
+to her eyes. She had realized at once that Clo wrote to L&eacute;ontine because
+she dared not use the name of Mrs. Sands. This suggested that she was in
+a house where the name of Sands was not unknown. Now, concentrating upon
+the queer letter, Beverley understood each veiled hint. Clo wished her
+not to "worry." Clo was "picking up all she had lost." Clo "hoped to
+call before long, and show what good progress" she had made. All this
+could have only one meaning. And how like Clo, to have treasured in some
+brain-cell L&eacute;ontine's queer name of "Rossignol"!</p>
+
+<p>She had written nothing to waken suspicion; and as no house, no street,
+was mentioned, there need be no dread of discovery for guilty
+consciences. Beverley judged that O'Reilly's name as well as Roger's
+might be known to someone near to Clo. Evidently she was afraid to send
+a letter to Justin O'Reilly. But the end of the postscript was amazing.
+O'Reilly had been kind to Clo!</p>
+
+<p>"She went to see him again!" was the thought in Beverley's mind. "Then,
+perhaps, she didn't go back to the Westmorland. What can 'kind' mean,
+unless he's promised to help instead of hurt us?"</p>
+
+<p>But she must find out what had happened last between O'Reilly and Clo.
+How should she communicate with him? Should she send a note by district
+messenger to the Dietz? Or&mdash;should she telephone, before Roger came, and
+learn all that she wished to know without delay? Quickly she decided
+upon this bolder course. She called up O'Reilly's hotel, and soon heard
+his "Hello!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm Mrs. Sands," she explained. "I've a letter from Clo. She sends you
+a message."</p>
+
+<p>The voice from the Dietz had sounded indifferent. It was so no longer.</p>
+
+<p>"What news?" O'Reilly asked. "Tell me everything."</p>
+
+<p>She told him, and read Clo's letter to L&eacute;ontine distinctly, that he
+might miss no word. "I understand why it might be dangerous to put an
+address, or to write to you or me," Beverley added. "But it's frightful
+not to know where she is. Explain what you can quickly, because&mdash;I'm
+expecting someone."</p>
+
+<p>"Peterson stole your pearls," O'Reilly answered. "He 'phoned Heron and
+offered to sell them. He must have been hiding in your room and
+overheard our talk. Later, I answered him for Heron. Miss Riley was in
+Peterson's room then, and she and I got in touch. She asked through the
+'phone if I'd help. I said 'Yes,' and she told me to come with a taxi. I
+picked her up outside the hotel, and took her where she wanted to go: a
+restaurant, Krantz's Keller. When I'd heard what she had to say I
+proposed to employ a private detective. Don't worry; he's absolutely
+loyal, and I'm on your side, after all, Mrs. Sands&mdash;I may as well
+confess it's for Miss Riley's sake. She repented stealing the papers
+from me, you know, and sent them back in the envelope just as they
+were&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Clo sent you the papers! You're mistaken. I know she didn't send them,"
+Beverley cried. She had forgotten her fear of being overheard, forgotten
+everything, but the sound of a door closing caused her to start. It was
+a strange sound just then, because both doors had already been shut when
+she went to the telephone, the door leading into her bedroom, the door
+into the hall, and she had heard neither open since. Yet she could not
+be mistaken. Somebody had closed one of those doors and must previously
+have opened it.</p>
+
+<p>Sick with fear, Beverley dropped the receiver and ran to look into the
+hall. No one was there. She flew to the door of her bedroom and peeped
+in. The room was empty. She rang for Johnson, who appeared at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Has Mr. Sands come in?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I think not, Madam," the butler replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Go and see. Search everywhere."</p>
+
+<p>She did not move while the man was away.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Sands is not in the house, Madam," Johnson solemnly announced.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you!" Beverley said. Yet she was not relieved. Something told her
+that it was Roger who had shut the door.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX</h2>
+
+<h3>WHAT CLO DID WITH A KNIFE</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Kit and Churn left Krantz's Keller they walked fast along
+Fourteenth Street till they came to Sixth Avenue. There they appeared to
+hesitate, as if they could not decide whether to go up or down town.
+Clo, as close behind them as she dared to venture, guessed instantly
+that, until now, they had not entirely made up their minds which of
+several hiding-places it would be safest for them to seek.</p>
+
+<p>Judging by their linked arms, and the nearness of the two heads, their
+conversation was absorbing. They stopped at the corner, and Clo stopped
+also. Presently the pair resolved on going down toward Thirteenth
+Street. Clo went after them. They walked for several blocks; and the
+girl following always glanced at the number of each street she passed.
+There had been an accident to a taxi, however, in the neighbourhood of
+Eleventh Street, and a crowd had collected. In this crowd Clo nearly
+lost the quarry. She had a moment of despair, then saw the skirt of Kit
+in the distance. No longer was she wearing a pink cloak, but a white
+one. She must have had a chance to turn it wrong side out!</p>
+
+<p>So excited was Clo that she forgot to notice the streets. Whether the
+couple turned off the Avenue into Tenth, or Ninth, or Eighth, she was
+not sure. She was certain only that she was on their track. Then
+followed a chase across town. In this, the girl finally lost her head a
+little, but when it seemed that she could drag herself no further, Kit
+and Churn stopped in front of a house, and rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>"Neither of them lives there, or there'd be a latch-key!" Clo thought,
+hovering on the other side of the street.</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before the two were let in; but after a delay of four
+or five minutes a woman opened the door. A dim gas light shone from the
+hall or lobby, and Clo's impression was of a dark brown face, the face
+of a negress. There was a short discussion; then the woman nodded,
+stepping aside to let Kit and Churn pass. An instant later the door shut
+them in.</p>
+
+<p>Clo stood gazing at the house. It was one in a row of old-fashioned,
+shabby brick buildings, four storeys in height. A light showed in the
+basement, but other windows were black. Suddenly, as Clo watched, a
+yellow gleam flashed in a fourth-storey room but at the same moment a
+man stepped to the window and pulled down a dark blind. Clo thought that
+this man was Churn.</p>
+
+<p>"They're going to stay," she argued; and crossing the street at a
+distance from the house, the girl looked at it with interest. There was
+no street lamp near, and she could not see the number; but there was a
+small plaque at the side of the door, and Clo tripped up the steps to
+read it. Joy, the place was a boarding house!</p>
+
+<p>The pair having mounted to the fourth storey, Clo thought she might
+venture to ring. She pulled an old-fashioned bell, and her heart thumped
+in her breast as the shrill sound jingled through the house.</p>
+
+<p>"I must have some tale to tell&mdash;why I'm here so late, wanting a room,"
+she reflected.</p>
+
+<p>The door was opened by the woman who had admitted Kit and Churn. Not
+only was she black, but she was fat and slovenly. Staring at the
+new-comer, she exclaimed with a mouth full of gum:</p>
+
+<p>"Say, is you another fren' o' Mr. Cheffinsky?"</p>
+
+<p>"Chuff!" was the password that flashed through Clo's brain. "This is
+where he lives!" She was triumphant.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know anything about Mr. Cheffinsky," she replied, "but I'm in a
+scrape, and a friend of mine once recommended me to this house. I saw
+some people come in, and a light. It's still a boarding-house, isn't
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It ain't no foundlin' orphant asylum."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't ask for charity. I've got money to pay my board. But I don't
+want an expensive room. One at the top of the house will do."</p>
+
+<p>"Say, it's a real funny time o' night for a young girl like you to go
+lookin' foh a home to lay her haid," remarked the negress. "But you can
+step in the hall. I'll call Mis' MacMahon. She's the lady o' the house.
+We've got a room upstahs, but I don't know whethah she'll let you have
+it."</p>
+
+<p>She allowed Clo to enter, and left the girl standing as she descended
+the basement stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"'MacMahon' sounds hopeful!" Clo thought. The girl had lodged drearily
+in New York, but she had never been in a house as dreary as this.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. MacMahon's look was less inspiring than her name. She was of the
+big-jowled type; a grim woman of middle age; and her manner suggested
+suspicion. But Clo began to speak first, with her best brogue, which she
+could use, when needed, with great effect.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, ma'am, for intruding on ye at this time of the
+night," said the girl in her creamiest voice, with a child-like smile,
+"but the lady I'm maid for and me had a quarrel about a young man, and
+rather than give him up, I just walked away from the house, without
+waitin' to pack my things. I've walked till I'm played out! I tould yer
+maid a friend o' mine had spoken o' Mrs. MacMahon's place and I didn't
+forget. I'll pay a week in advance if you'll take me in."</p>
+
+<p>Whether Mrs. MacMahon believed these out-pourings was an open question,
+but her face softened slightly at sound of the brogue.</p>
+
+<p>"Irish, are you!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, County Cork, and not over since very long," returned the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm from County Cork, me and me dead husband both," volunteered the
+woman. "I've been in New York these twelve years. Violet says you ast
+for a top-floor room?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did that," said Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, a top-floor room is the only wan I've got vacant. How long would
+ye be wanting it for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a few days, and maybe more."</p>
+
+<p>"You can come and have a look. I don't boast of the room. It's last
+choice. I charge seven dollars with board."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind seven dollars," said Clo, and followed her hostess up
+flight after flight of dimly lighted stairs. They were covered with
+oilcloth, and the hall smelled of escaping gas, but the girl was almost
+happy. The place was not attractive, but it seemed decent enough.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a hall room, but a front one," explained Mrs. MacMahon, panting,
+as they reached the top of the house. Clo was enchanted to hear this,
+for it meant that the room must adjoin the one where Churn had pulled
+down the blind. She wondered if Churn were married to Kit. Perhaps she
+would find out by and by.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a husband and wife come into the double room next," Mrs.
+MacMahon went on, when she had shown Clo her proposed quarters. "The
+wall's kind of thin, for this room was part of the other once, but
+they're a quiet couple, I guess: and if you're quiet, too, you won't
+trouble each other. They're friends of a gentleman boarder we've had for
+some time, and they've been here to call on him, though they've never
+stayed before. I want 'em to be comfortable, so stir around as little as
+you can in the morning. I guess they're the kind that lies late in bed."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel more as if I'd like to lie in bed all day!" sighed Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sleep as much as you like. But don't be scared if ye hear folks
+movin' later on to-night. The friend of this couple is out, but he may
+come home and want to see 'em."</p>
+
+<p>Clo paid seven dollars in advance for the room, and took pains to show
+that she had plenty of money. She begged also to buy or borrow a clean
+nightgown, and suggested that, if there were a new toothbrush in the
+house, she would be glad to have it. Mrs. MacMahon laughed. A nightgown
+she could lend, but as for a toothbrush, there wouldn't be one this side
+of the nearest drugstore. Miss Ryan (the name Clo gave) must wait till
+next day.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, anyhow, maybe you've a bit you'll give me to eat!" the new
+boarder pleaded. "I'm that hungry I could bite off the door-knob! I'll
+pay extra, of course&mdash;this time of night. And your coloured
+woman&mdash;Violet, isn't she?&mdash;shall have a couple of dimes for bringing up
+the food."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. MacMahon softened and asked what food her guest desired. Clo
+desired nothing so much as a knife, and made a bid to secure one by
+asking for meat. "Any old kind!&mdash;and some bread and milk. I'll give
+fifty cents&mdash;" (she watched the woman's eye)&mdash;"I mean, a dollar for my
+supper."</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. MacMahon had gone the girl held her breath to listen. Yes, the
+wall was thin! She could hear Kit and Churn talking in an ordinary tone,
+but she could catch few words, even when she laid her ear against the
+dusty paper. When the voices sank low, they reached her only in an
+indistinct rumble.</p>
+
+<p>She guessed that the tiny room was separated from the larger one by a
+partition of laths and plaster, covered on each side with flimsy wall
+paper. She could feel as well as hear someone walking up and down, up
+and down, in the next room! No doubt it was Churn. Now and then he would
+pause. A piece of furniture would creak; then he would jump up, to begin
+walking again.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Violet appeared, a coarse nightgown hanging over her arm, a
+plate of bread and ham on a napkinless tray, and glass of bluish milk.
+Clo gave the woman twenty cents, and promised the same sum if her
+breakfast were brought upstairs. Violet agreed to this bargain, which
+was well for the girl. She would have starved rather than desert her
+room long enough to eat while Churn and Kit remained in their quarters.
+She surmised that they would not often go out.</p>
+
+<p>Clo had told the truth in pleading hunger, but when she was alone and
+had locked her door, she took from the tray only the steel knife and
+fork which lay beside the plate. Having pushed the cot bed away from the
+wall, she sat down on the floor, Turk fashion. Choosing a spot which
+would be invisible with the bed in place, she waited till Churn was
+inclined to walk. Then she began delicately to dig at the plaster with
+her extemporized tools. Whenever Churn stopped, she stopped also, lest
+the rat-like noise should reach alert ears in the next room. For a long
+time she toiled, cautiously, slowly, gathering up bits of paper and
+plaster that fell, and collecting them in her lap. It was a tedious
+task, but not difficult. In less than an hour she had made&mdash;practically
+without noise&mdash;a hole the size of a silver dollar. It went through to
+the lathes; beyond that barrier her tools were of no avail. She needed a
+thin, sharp instrument like a hat-pin, to push between the slats of
+wood. A tiny hole would suffice. But she had no hat-pin in the
+close-fitting toque lent by Beverley. Her own was now a souvenir in
+O'Reilly's possession.</p>
+
+<p>She tried hair-pins, but they bent, one after another. Then she searched
+for a nail, and found one at last, stuck in the wall, supporting a small
+mirror. Carefully she deposited this upon the bed (it wouldn't do to
+break a looking glass!) and set to work once more. At the end of twenty
+minutes' scratching, she felt resistance cease before the nail-point.
+Hastily she withdrew it, lest it should pierce too far; and stretched on
+the floor she listened with her ear to the aperture on her side of the
+wall.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE NINE DAYS</h3>
+
+
+<p>"I wish Chuff would come, and get it over!" she heard Churn sigh aloud,
+in his sweet, foreign-sounding voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder why he went out?" said Kit. "He ought to have been home all
+evening. He was expecting Pete on business, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Can he have got onto de reason dat fellah Pete didn't come?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," Kit answered. "I've told you a dozen times no! He wouldn't
+have gone to the Westmorland. Pete had to call on him. But there must
+have been something important to take Chuff out."</p>
+
+<p>"Vat vas de plan?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what does it matter? To-night's changed everything for me, and you,
+too. You are goin' to stand by me, aren't you, Churn, through thick and
+thin?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bettcha life! For de whole of vot I'm vorth!"</p>
+
+<p>Kit's tone changed. She chuckled. "You may be worth a lot. You've
+married a rich heiress. See?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sh, girl! If Chuff comes spyin' on us we don't vant him to hear dat
+word 'married.' He'd only laugh&mdash;or vorse."</p>
+
+<p>"All right! But he ain't our master any more. We can do without him."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe he von't tink he can do vidout us."</p>
+
+<p>"He'll <i>have</i> to, when we get something good on the pearls. And say, I
+never thought you could kill any one and feel no more than I do now.
+Churn, if you'd been there, you'd 'a' settled his hash long before I
+did. The things he said to me&mdash;and me your wife! It makes me sick to
+think o' them&mdash;and of him, the low beast!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't tink, den. Tink of me."</p>
+
+<p>"I do. I love you, Boy! The minute I lamped the pearls&mdash;when I sensed
+they was real&mdash;I meant to get 'em, for you and me to set up house far
+away somewheres on our own. We can go to Buenos Aires or some place
+south, where they love a nice voice like yours, so you won't feel
+wasted. If Chuff knew what we've got here in this table drawer!"</p>
+
+<p>"Better tie 'em up in your handkerchief again. If Chuff&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Chuff nothing! I feel in my bones, now he's so late, he won't come
+home to-night. I don't care what happens to Chuff. Let's go to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;not yet. I vait."</p>
+
+<p>"Peterson thought he could say what he liked to me, the pig!" Kit went
+on. "Well, he's paid. His blood's on his own head. Oh, Churn, it was on
+his head, every sense o' the word! I didn't like the look of it&mdash;turned
+me sick! Lucky my long cloak was in the room. See&mdash;on my dress, two
+stains! Boy, that trunk stunt was awful. You've got to let me go to bed
+and sleep, or I believe I'll have hysterics and yell the house down. I
+thought I was all right since I found you, but it's comin' on again,
+that tremblin'!"</p>
+
+<p>"Go to bed, den, girl. I vait. Dat's easy."</p>
+
+<p>"I will. Just one more look at the pearls&mdash;our pearls! But I lost one. I
+heard it roll. It was so close to him I&mdash;I couldn't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you care. Dere's a lot for us. We'll count 'em first ting
+to-morra', ven ve both feel like ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>"They ought to fetch a king's ransom, Boy."</p>
+
+<p>"Dey vill not, den. Dere'll be all de bulls in N'York after em. Joke on
+us, dough, if Chuff was in de deal mit Pete!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure he wasn't&mdash;dead sure."</p>
+
+<p>Silence fell. When the pair spoke again it was of other things. At last
+Clo fell suddenly fast asleep, on the floor. She knew that Beverley's
+pearls were in the next room. That had to be enough for the night.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The girl slept till dawn. Waking, she was astonished to find herself on
+the floor, and for an instant could not remember what had happened. But
+in a flash it all came back. Quickly she got up and quietly undressed,
+putting on Mrs. MacMahon's immense nightgown before she dropped
+thankfully upon the cot bed. Clo did not sleep again, but lay until
+eight o'clock, when her neighbours began to stir. Then she listened once
+more at the hole in the wall until she feared that Violet might come
+with breakfast. The woman had suggested bringing it at nine, and lest
+she should wonder why the hungry girl hadn't supped, the milk had to be
+hastily poured away and the bread and ham hidden. The bed had also to be
+lifted into place covering the hole in the wall.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing of special interest had been said by Kit and her husband since
+their waking, but soon the young woman began to concern herself with the
+subject of clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"I told Mrs. MacMahon we expected our baggage this morning from
+Brooklyn. If it doesn't come it's been stolen&mdash;see? The old party won't
+think wrong of Chuff's pals. He's a real family friend. Gee, all sorts
+of things happen in a house like this! Before long we'll 'phone Isaacs
+to come along and look at the pearls. Chuff's got a 'phone in his room,
+you know."</p>
+
+<p>Clo knew also. She had good reason to know, and that Chuff had lent his
+telephone book to "Jake."</p>
+
+<p>As Violet kicked on the door (her hands being occupied with the tray)
+Clo hastily stuffed a handkerchief into the hole she had made in the
+wall. She feared that the pair in the next room might take alarm at the
+sound of voices, and therefore she cautiously subdued her own. She
+hadn't slept well, she answered Violet's question. Her head ached, and
+perhaps she might lie in bed the rest of the day. The promised reward
+was given, and more offered if Violet would find time to buy toilet
+articles, and a few clothes. She was begged to bring writing paper also;
+there might be a letter to send by express delivery.</p>
+
+<p>The coffee, though weak, was hot, and Clo felt revived after drinking
+it. Once more she placed the bed across the door, pulled out the
+handkerchief "gag" from the hole in the wall, and thus, on sentinel
+duty, finished her breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>Later in the day the couple next door resigned themselves to the
+indefinite absence of Chuff. "Mrs. Mac" herself came up to see her
+guests, who called themselves Mr. and Mrs. Stahl. The landlady talked of
+Mr. Cheffinsky as her "star boarder," and said that she was used to his
+"queer ways." Often he stopped away from home a day or two, but she
+never worried. He always came back. The "Stahls" were voluble over the
+non-arrival of their luggage, which seemed to vex them more than the
+appearance of Cheffinsky, their old friend. Whether or not Mrs. MacMahon
+believed the story, at all events she agreed to supply the needs of Mr.
+and Mrs. Stahl, ordering a list of things for their selection. This
+arrangement raised Clo's hopes. Maybe Churn and Kit intended to venture
+out! If they went for a short airing, they would probably leave the
+pearls at home. In their absence Clo would somehow get into the room
+next door. With Beverley's jewels recaptured, her mission in this house
+would be accomplished.</p>
+
+<p>But she was doomed to disappointment. After writing her hopeful letter
+to L&eacute;ontine, Clo's expectations of quick success were dashed. Kit and
+Churn received the clothes they wanted, but did not go out; nor did they
+audibly plan to go. Their intention was to eat downstairs, but they
+would take turns. One would always keep guard over the pearls. Newspaper
+mention of the "girl in pink" had scared them. After a heated argument
+they decided that, till they "saw how the wind blew," they would not
+risk sending for Isaacs. This was a sacrifice, because they wished to
+dispose of the pearls before Cheffinsky came "nosing around"; but they
+were not sure of Isaac's loyalty. Who could tell what he might do, if
+tempted by big bribes to "frame" his pals? They must wait; and so must
+Clo.</p>
+
+<p>Days passed. The girl still posed as an invalid taking a rest-cure, and
+her tips to Violet were generous. Once she heard Kit inquiring who lived
+in the next room; but Mrs. Mac's answer was satisfactory. A poor little
+mite of a thing, out of a job as lady's maid, was their neighbour;
+Irish, and recommended by an old client.</p>
+
+<p>Nine days lagged on, and then at last Clo came upon a "personal" in the
+newspaper she took in. Instantly she realized that it was meant for her,
+and put in by Justin O'Reilly. It was so worded that no "outsider" could
+guess its meaning. "C.R. from her cousin who is just in," was the
+heading which caught her eye. He knew that she knew his name was Justin;
+and she had first introduced herself as his cousin! "Working out
+Sunday's problem with expert help," she read, "Message received
+insufficient. Won't you let me know where you are?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl dared not answer by letter or newspaper. Violet would undertake
+any errand, but she could not be trusted for a mission of such
+importance. O'Reilly must be content with the message passed on by Mrs.
+Sands.</p>
+
+<p>On the ninth day Kit and Churn had a serious quarrel. The man insisted
+on going out. He could stand his imprisonment no longer; not for Kit,
+not for the pearls!</p>
+
+<p>Clo was not on sentinel duty when the explosion came. The hole in the
+wall was open (she stuffed it up only when someone knocked, lest the
+pair should take alarm at the clearness of sounds), but it was late in
+the afternoon of a blazing hot day, and the girl lay on her narrow bed,
+disgusted with life. She had now paid for a second week in advance.
+There wasn't money to go on with for long, at the present rate, and she
+knew not how to get more, but it was too hot to trouble about the
+future. The quarrel next door was so sordid that Clo had ceased to
+listen, when suddenly the names "Olga and Stephen," spoken loudly by
+Kit, waked her from a half doze. With the light swiftness of a cat she
+sprang off the bed, and went to her post.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII</h2>
+
+<h3>"STEPHEN'S DEAD!"</h3>
+
+
+<p>"I thought you'd sure know the whole story," Kit was saying.</p>
+
+<p>"I on'y knowed about Stephen. That I had to know," said Churn.</p>
+
+<p>"But you knew why Pete came to New York, instead of going West, when he
+got out of stir in Chicago?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know he come to kill Heron&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hully gee! Not so loud!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I know 'oo he came for den, if you like dat better."</p>
+
+<p>"But that wasn't the whole reason."</p>
+
+<p>"I knowed he was goin' to get hold o' some papers for Chuff; papers dat
+was mixed all up mit our business."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm! That's what Chuff wanted us to think&mdash;that they concerned us. But
+if you know about those papers, you must know the rest, about Olga."</p>
+
+<p>"I know vat Olga and Stephen vas to each other, if dat's vat you mean."</p>
+
+<p>"And who Olga is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Olga Beverley."</p>
+
+<p>"Greenhorn! You never got further than that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Vat for I get furder? I never see 'er. She's a name to me, dat's
+all. Nevaire vould I heard even dat name if I didn't take care o'
+Stephen, when Jake vas off on a bust or doin' a job for Chuff."</p>
+
+<p>"Funny we never got on to this line o' talk before," mused Kit.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see vy 'funny.' You and me always haf something better to talk
+about, Katchen. And till dese nine days in dis hole, we never 'ad too
+much time together."</p>
+
+<p>"If Pete had been found dead and I hadn't done it, I'd say it was
+'Olga!' She was the woman who had to give up the papers to him. He told
+me he was waitin' for the papers to come. He said he wasn't sure whether
+she'd bring 'em herself, or this girl you've seen about in the
+newspapers; the one who called on him Sunday afternoon. I've told you
+about the women's voices in the hall, and someone sittin' plump on the
+trunk when I was inside. Well, if I could o' peeped, I bet I'd seen
+Olga. She was one of the women dressed for the automobile they're tryin'
+to trace an' can't."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you knowed Olga if you 'ad seen her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would I? Say, did you never hear of Roger Sands?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was de guy who worked for Heron las' year, and got de gang goin'
+after him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it was Olga he married, but not with her own name. She'd took
+another so as to get away with the papers. She's had the papers from
+then till now. The thing that interests me, and maybe will you, is
+something else. It popped into my nut to-day that the pearls are hers! I
+bet something went wrong with the papers, and she gave Pete the pearls
+instead. I bet he was studyin' how to double-cross Chuff, and square
+himself when&mdash;when my act comes on."</p>
+
+<p>"What 'old would Chuff 'ave on a woman married mit a big fellah like
+Sands?" Churn wanted to know. "Vy she let herself be skinned like dat,
+for Stephen's dead an' stiff dese tree weeks or more?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Kit repeated. "Stephen's been dead 'most a month. That's one
+reason they couldn't let things slide, so the minute Pete was free they
+put him on the job. He was keen, because of Heron. And John Heron blew
+into New York just the right time, for the plan. Pete was to get the
+papers first, and then&mdash;you know what."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know dat. But Stephen&mdash;Stephen gone, what 'old 'ad Chuff on
+Olga?"</p>
+
+<p>"Booby, dear, Olga doesn't know Stephen's dead."</p>
+
+<p>Clo's blood rushed to her brain. She felt faint. Had she been on her
+feet she would have fallen. This was the one thing of all for Beverley.
+Clo felt that she hated this cruel Cheffinsky with an almost murderous
+hatred. How could she let Beverley know, and make her understand that
+"Stephen" was dead. Ought she to go back with her news to Park Avenue,
+and abandon the pearls? The police could never be asked to take a hand
+in this business, and before she could even ask help from O'Reilly and
+Denham, Churn might have disappeared. With herself as sentinel off duty,
+nothing was sure, for a dangerous restlessness possessed the pair.
+Still, Beverley would sacrifice the pearls for the knowledge that her
+enemies had no longer any hold upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"If I dared telegraph!" the girl thought. For she wanted Beverley to
+have both the knowledge and the pearls.</p>
+
+<p>About this hour Violet was in the habit of toiling up with beer for Kit
+and Churn, and water or lemonade for their neighbour. The woman was due
+in a few minutes and Clo spent the interval in concocting a message for
+L&eacute;ontine Rossignol.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell your mistress I've had news since I last saw her that Stephen is
+dead," were the words she decided on, before Violet's arrival was
+advertised by a tinkle of ice.</p>
+
+<p>The telegram was delivered that night at the flat in Park Avenue, but
+Mr. and Mrs. Sands and their household had left for Newport. Only a
+parlour maid remained. She detested L&eacute;ontine, being Bohemian by birth,
+while L&eacute;ontine was French. Anna Schultz decided to forget indefinitely
+the telegram for L&eacute;ontine Rossignol.</p>
+
+<p>When she had sent the message, Clo's thoughts went back to the pearls.
+She would be driven to leave the house soon for lack of money. If she
+had to go without the pearls, she would feel herself a failure. The net
+was proving tough for the tiny teeth of a mouse! But the mouse was ready
+to do anything rather than give up.</p>
+
+<p>That evening Churn again announced his intention to go out at any cost.
+Whither he was bound, Clo did not know, for she had missed scraps of
+talk in the next room. Kit cried, and in the midst of hysterical sobs,
+the door slammed. Churn had gone! Kit continued to sob.</p>
+
+<p>Clo's blood took fire. She flamed with courage. Having fixed upon her
+plan of action she darted into the passage and knocked on Kit's door.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's that?" came the sharp answer.</p>
+
+<p>"It's only me. The little girl from the next room," Clo explained in a
+small voice like a child's. Her hair hung over her shoulders, and she
+wore a cheap blue muslin dressing gown chosen by Violet.</p>
+
+<p>Kit threw open the door so suddenly, and stared so keenly through the
+dusk that Clo shrank back a little. "What do you want?" snapped Kit.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, maybe I oughtn't to have come!" Clo apologized. "I heard you
+crying. And I'm so homesick and miserable myself! Don't be angry."</p>
+
+<p>Kit opened the door wide. Her bleached yellow hair bristled round her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know I was howling so loud. Say, can you hear us talkin', me
+and my husband? I hope we don't keep you awake nights."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't kept me awake once," Clo assured her with truth. "Crying's
+easier to hear than talking. You see, I'm in trouble and I'm awfully
+lonely."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> haven't got any real trouble," said Kit. "Me and my husband
+sometimes have a spat, like all married folks, and I'm fool enough to
+bawl. He's out now. Would you like me to come in and visit with you a
+while?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd love it!" gasped Clo. She would have preferred an invitation to her
+neighbour's room, but she hoped for that later. Kit locked her door
+carefully and slipped the key down the neck of her dress. She accepted
+Clo's suggestion to sit on the bed, which was more comfortable than the
+one broken-backed chair. Question after question she put, which cost her
+hostess tiresome flights of imagination to answer. Clo was far from
+regretting her move, however. If Churn were absent long, or if he went
+out again, Kit said that she would return as an escape from boredom.</p>
+
+<p>It was eleven o'clock when once more Clo heard the two voices, and from
+their conversation Clo gathered that they did not expect Chuff back till
+the day after to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>"Day after to-morrow!" echoed Kit. "Then we <i>must</i> get Isaacs here
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"I t'ought of dat," said Churn. "I went up dere after I see Jake. Isaacs
+'as started for Chicago on business, and won't be back till the same day
+as Chuff, day after to-morrah."</p>
+
+<p>Clo drank in each word, and focussed her mind on its meaning. To-morrow,
+or the day after, her hour would come; then, or never.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>XXXIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PATCH ON THE PILLOW</h3>
+
+
+<p>Churn's excursion had justified itself, and the morning after his first
+absence he went out again. Toward noon Kit, in a "ready-to-wear" looking
+costume, knocked at Clo's door. "Thought you might want some candy," she
+said. "Shall I come in?"</p>
+
+<p>Clo was cordial, and tried to be entertaining. "If I can make her like
+me, perhaps she'll go down to a meal with Churn, and leave me on guard,"
+she reflected. Kit feared to stop long with her new friend lest Churn
+should arrive while she was "gadding." She dodged back and forth from
+room to room, and was at home to receive her husband in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning early Clo heard Churn announce that he would meet Isaacs'
+train at the Grand Central; the "old lady" had told him the time. Kit
+objected. "You might miss him. Best wait at his place," she advised. But
+Churn would not be persuaded. He had seen Jake again, who prophesied
+that Chuff would not arrive before the afternoon. They had the whole
+morning to see Isaacs and bargain with him, but it would be a waste of
+time to hang about at "Isaacs' place." Churn would catch Isaacs at the
+train, and bring him round to Kit. She must clear up the room, and have
+everything ship-shape in an hour. But Kit's anger grew as Churn
+insisted. "I know why you're mad to get to the Grand Central," she flung
+at him. "Didn't you s'pose I noticed the name on the candy box. Bah! I
+ain't a fool. You said you was sick of bein' boxed up with me. That put
+me wise."</p>
+
+<p>Churn protested innocence, and went off jauntily, but Clo looked for
+developments. "Kit's mum, to put Churn off the track," she thought. "But
+she means to follow him. She's bought no handbag. She can't very well
+take the pearls."</p>
+
+<p>Clo had read a paragraph concerning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Sands. It
+referred to the "house-warming party" they were giving at their "lately
+acquired cottage in Newport." Apparently the affair had been mentioned
+before in the column devoted to "Society" news, but Clo had missed it.
+The allusion to the "house-warming," and dinner dance set Clo's brain
+whirling. Angel would be expected by her husband to wear the queen's
+pearls. If he already guessed the secret, this might be a plan to force
+his wife's hand. Beverley feared him. Clo had seen that. Angel must have
+the pearls for to-morrow night. And they must be strung, ready to wear,
+or they would be useless to her, arriving at the last moment. The girl
+would have been at her wits' end, but for that quarrel next door. If Kit
+did go spying on Churn...!</p>
+
+<p>The door slammed after Churn. A second later Kit was knocking, calling
+her new friend by her new nickname: "Kid-Kid! Let me in, quick!"</p>
+
+<p>Clo let her in. Kit was pinning on a wide-brimmed hat, and had her hands
+full with a veil, gloves, and parasol. "Tie this veil for me, there's a
+good kid!" she panted. "I'm mad at my husband. He's off to flirt with a
+beast of a girl in a candy store. They had a mash before we married.
+You're goin' to be in all mornin', ain't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of running out to 'phone a friend of mine," said Clo,
+cleverly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't! There's a 'phone in the house, the room under mine&mdash;room of a
+pal away till this afternoon. He left his key with Mrs. Mac, and she
+lent it to my husband last night so he could borrow some novels for me;
+our pal has lots. We've not given the key back, so when I come home I'll
+take you down. I want you to stay in while I'm gone. All you need do is
+to sit with your door open, and see if any one knocks at mine. And I've
+got the key. But it's the same as every old key; 'tain't a special one
+like Ch&mdash;&mdash;like our pal's. If a stranger calls look close, so you can
+describe the person."</p>
+
+<p>"I undertake watchdogging in all its branches," said Clo. "Ta, ta!"</p>
+
+<p>"I count on you!" were Kit's last words at the top of the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"Bet your life you can!" the "kid" called after her. But as Kit ran
+downstairs, without stopping to look round, Clo dashed to her own open
+window. In a moment Kit's parasol went bobbing along the street. The
+coast was clear. Kit's manner made it certain that she had left the
+pearls behind.</p>
+
+<p>Violet would not come up for the two breakfast trays for a long time
+yet. Kit's opinion of the key was the same as that already formed by
+Clo, and the girl was wild to test it. She snatched her own key from its
+lock, to try it in Kit's door. It went in, but stopped at the critical
+turn. There were two more rooms on this floor; a small one opposite
+Clo's, tenanted by a young man who went to work at seven o'clock; and
+another still smaller, used as a storeroom&mdash;a refuge for trunks,
+dust-pans, and brooms. The early bird never locked his door, but his key
+fell short of success.</p>
+
+<p>The storeroom key remained. It did not fail. It turned all the way round
+in the lock, and Kit's door opened.</p>
+
+<p>Clo's was shut and locked, in case Violet should break her rule and come
+too soon.</p>
+
+<p>Not only did the girl expect to find the pearls, but Chuff's key, and
+she hoped to telephone if necessary, before making her "bolt." Wonderful
+that both these chances should fall together!</p>
+
+<p>Clo knew that the pearls were kept in a drawer; but Kit would not go out
+and leave them in so obvious a place. Nevertheless, Clo began by looking
+through the drawers, of which there were six.</p>
+
+<p>Churn's evening clothes hung from a hook on the wall; there was nothing
+in the pockets; nothing in the shoes which stood underneath except a
+pair of socks. Other hiding-place there was none, save the bed; and it
+was there that Clo expected to find the pearls.</p>
+
+<p>Kit had made the bed, and neatly patted the two ill-matched pillows into
+shape. Clo stripped off the unbleached covers of these pillows and
+looked for some sign that the ticking had been ripped open. There was a
+patch on the larger pillow. One end of this patch was unsewn and held in
+place with a pin. Underneath it something hard could be felt with the
+hand. Clo undid the pin, and thrusting in her hand pulled out a packet
+made of a red silk handkerchief tied round with gold string from a
+confectioner's. Clo squeezed the tight folds of silk. They held the
+pearls.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed a waste of time to open the handkerchief. She longed to run
+out of the house with her treasure, without a second's delay. Why search
+for Chuff's key? As she had found the pearls she did not need to 'phone.
+The girl was at the door, with her hand on the key, before she realized
+how mad it would be not to make certain of her find.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, the pearls were really there, the darlings! She re-wrapped the
+parcel, and again was at the door when another thought struck her.
+Better make the bed look as it had looked before. She returned, put the
+pillows back into their covers, stood them up in place, and during the
+process decided that she would spare a moment to search for Chuff's key.
+It might come in handy. Kit had let drop that the key was a special key.
+Clo guessed that at times there were things to hide, and then Chuff
+would forget to leave that key for his friends! "It might be useful to
+Mr. O'Reilly's Denham," she thought. "If I can find it quick&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And flitting about the room she pounced upon a key which answered Kit's
+description. It was on the mantelpiece&mdash;a small, flat key, of a
+"special" kind, because it was made for a Yale lock.</p>
+
+<p>She shut the door softly behind her, and locked it as she went out. The
+borrowed key she replaced in the storeroom. Then she unlocked her own
+door, and tearing off the blue wrapper, put on the tan-coloured linen
+suit Violet had bought in a sale, for five dollars. There was a tan
+straw hat, too (Clo dared not appear in the brown toque and coat
+described by the newspapers), and a cheap handbag purchased for the
+pearls in case she should get them. It was a tight fit for the red silk
+bundle, but she squeezed it in, and added the big pearl found in
+Peterson's room. She would also have tucked in the Yale key, but the bag
+refused to shut, and she kept the key in her hand. What money she had
+left, she slipped inside her blouse; everything else she abandoned. Kit
+would rage in vain when she looked for the red handkerchief parcel.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't have been half an hour," she thought, as she tripped past the
+breakfast trays and started downstairs. "Kit and Churn may be out a long
+while yet. I'd hate to come face to face with 'em in the street!"</p>
+
+<p>Less than half way down, she heard Violet's voice, and her nerves
+jumped. "On my way up for them trays o'yourn," the woman said.</p>
+
+<p>To whom was she speaking? Kit back already? Yes, Kit was answering her:
+"I'll run up ahead. I'm in a hurry."</p>
+
+<p>The voices sounded near. Clo felt that her blood was turning to water.
+Should she fly back and lock herself into her room? No, for Kit would
+discover her loss, and would guess what had happened. A fight for the
+pearls would be too uncertain, and Kit would call Mrs. Mac and Vi to the
+rescue, or Churn might come&mdash;&mdash;But could she hope to pass safely if she
+went on? No, she had promised to guard the door. Kit would accuse and
+stop her if they met.</p>
+
+<p>In her anguish Clo's fingers closed upon Chuff's key. If only she could
+hide in Chuff's room before Kit reached his floor! She stumbled down the
+last few steps, and paused at the room under Kit's. Would the key fit?
+It went deep into the small keyhole, and turned. Kit must be close to
+the top of the stairs now.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>XXXIV</h2>
+
+<h3>TRAPPED</h3>
+
+
+<p>Trembling the girl locked herself into Chuff's room and went straight to
+the telephone. If O'Reilly were at home he would make a dash to the
+rescue. Her hand was on the receiver when she remembered that she was
+marooned. She was ignorant of the 'phone number and had never dared
+inquire the number of the house or street. Now, when it was too late,
+she wished with all her heart that she had slipped out late at night,
+while Kit and Churn slept, and thus found her bearings. She had not
+gone, because the pair always talked till after midnight, and the later
+the hour the more important their confidences. But surely she could not
+fall over this small stumbling block! The girl ran to a writing table
+and opened the blotting-book. It was old, thickly patterned with stains,
+but it contained not a single sheet of paper. She pulled out a drawer.
+There was writing paper in it, but unstamped. While she fumbled, hoping
+for an old envelope addressed to Chuff, the girl could hear the patter
+of feet overhead. Kit was in her own room walking about. Suddenly the
+boards ceased to creak. Kit had stopped. Was it at the bedside? Was she
+pulling the cover off the patched pillow?</p>
+
+<p>Clo had turned to a shelf crowded with books and magazines when a new
+idea came to her. She snatched up the blotter and held it open, in front
+of a mirror, over the mantelpiece. "Dear Peterson," she read, "Churn
+will take you this, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The line beneath mingled with others, and could not be disentangled, but
+the address of the house had been written above, and could be clearly
+read.</p>
+
+<p>With a sigh of thanksgiving Clo ran to the telephone, called up Central,
+and asked for the Dietz Hotel. Her voice could no doubt be heard in the
+hall outside, and might even reach Kit's ears upstairs. But the door
+must be broken before she could be torn from the 'phone, and at this
+hour, when all the men boarders were out there was no strong arm for
+such work. Meantime, O'Reilly might come. The girl longed for him with a
+new and desperate longing.</p>
+
+<p>The Dietz answered quickly. Mr. Justin O'Reilly was still staying in the
+hotel, but he had gone out. Tears started to Clo's eyes. She was trapped
+now, and must summon Beverley to get the pearls. She had not the Sands'
+'phone number, and must ask Central to call the Park Avenue apartment.
+When she had done this, silence fell. But it was only for a moment. Clo
+stood, with her ear at the receiver still, when a loud bang on the door
+made her jump as though she had been shot. The door knob turned.</p>
+
+<p>"You little devil!" shrilled Kit's voice. "You&mdash;thief! I know you're
+there. Wait till I catch you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" spoke a foreign-sounding voice through the 'phone&mdash;the voice of
+a woman. "Hello! Yes, this is Mrs. Sands' flat. Mr. and Mrs. Sands are
+not at home."</p>
+
+<p>"When will they be back?" asked Clo.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that," answered the cold voice of Anna Schultz. "It may be
+a long time."</p>
+
+<p>The girl had an instant of despair, but she was not yet beaten. As Kit
+pounded furiously on the door, Clo called up the jeweller where Ellen
+Blackburne was employed. Ellen had been in but gone out again; but, oh,
+she had just returned. She would step to the 'phone.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later Ellen's calm "Hello" seemed to travel to her from a
+far-distant, peaceful world.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Clo," replied the girl, conscious that voices outside the door
+ceased their clamour in order that ears might hear her message. "Yes, I
+said Clo! For God's sake get into a taxi and rush to the number and
+street I'm going to give you. Listen! Don't stop to ask questions. When
+you get here, you don't need to come in. I'll drop something out of the
+window. You can guess what. I'll expect you quick. Good-bye!"</p>
+
+<p>"I heard you!" shrieked Kit. "<i>I</i> can guess, too! You've stolen my
+pearls, and you think you'll pass 'em on to some other thief. But you
+won't, you devil! We'll have this door down in five minutes."</p>
+
+<p>Clo went to the window, rolled up the blind, and raised the sash.</p>
+
+<p>"Why won't you let me call the police?" she heard Mrs. Mac asking. "I
+tell you it's the only thing. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She won't let you do it because she stole the pearls herself," cried
+Clo, darting across the room to put her lips to the keyhole. "And that's
+not all she's afraid of."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll kill you when I get my hands round your throat," Kit screamed her
+down.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't be the first you've killed. Take care!" Clo retorted, and was
+then stung with regret for her boldness. There would be no mercy for her
+now from Kit or Churn when the door gave way. They would know that she'd
+been the woman at the telephone masquerading as Kit.</p>
+
+<p>But, if only Miss Blackburne came first, before they broke in, she
+didn't much care. With the pearls safe, she could fight for herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah, by all that's good, here's my Boy!" crowed Kit outside the
+door. "Churn! you've come! Mr. Isaacs, too! I was never so glad in my
+life to see any one as you both! There's a thief in Mr. Cheffinsky's
+room&mdash;the girl that's been living next door to us. She's stole my poor
+little string o' beads."</p>
+
+<p>Men's voices spoke. Churn and Isaacs were indeed there! The girl put her
+ear to the keyhole once more, and listened.</p>
+
+<p>"What did I tell you about dat key?" Churn caught her up. "You're ten
+kinds of a fool, girl. But de tief's dere all right, you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she's there all right. She must have took Chuff's key off our
+mantelpiece. You left it there! The little brute's been 'phonin' some
+pal to come in a taxi so she can drop my pearls out the window."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go down and talk things over with the pal when he comes," said
+another voice that was very smooth, and had a lisp. Clo deduced that it
+was the voice of Isaacs.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, do go down!" The girl jeered him through the keyhole. "I'll call
+from the window what you are, a fence; that's your nickname. You're a
+receiver of stolen goods."</p>
+
+<p>For a few breathless moments there was no sound. Clo wondered if Ellen
+had started, and how soon the taxi might arrive. She went again to the
+window and looked out. There was no taxi in sight, no vehicle of any
+sort, but children playing, women chatting together. Clo wished that she
+might shriek at the top of her voice "Help!" "Thieves!" "Murder!" A
+policeman would surely come, and she and the pearls would be saved. But
+Beverley would be lost. The story of the pearls would come out somehow.
+As she gazed like Sister Anne from the tower, two things happened. In
+the house, a blow from a hammer made the door quiver; in the street a
+taxi came swinging into sight.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll have the door down!" Clo gasped. "But if only that's Ellen
+she'll be just in time."</p>
+
+<p>The bag containing the pearls in their red wrapping was in the girl's
+hand. She stood, prepared to throw it if Ellen appeared. The taxi was
+slowing down. Yes, it was stopping in front of the house. It must be
+Ellen&mdash;but no! A man stepped out, and glanced quickly in all directions.
+He did not look up at the window, where Clo had shrunk back as far as
+she could, not to lose sight of what went on below. He was furtively
+intent upon a gray limousine car, with several men in it, which had
+followed the taxi along the street. The motor passed on, however, and
+its occupants (there were four or five, Clo fancied) were busily
+talking. They did not look out, or interest themselves in the stopping
+of the taxi. The man who had come in the latter had the air of hiding
+behind it, as he paid the chauffeur and carefully counted his change;
+but the instant the limousine had slid ahead, regardless of him, he ran
+up the steps. Clo, at the window, could see him no more.</p>
+
+<p>"What if it's Chuff?" she thought, "and he finds them breaking down his
+door?"</p>
+
+<p>Somehow she had the impression that Cheffinsky was even more wicked than
+Churn, a man without scruples, a man who would stop at nothing for his
+own advantage.</p>
+
+<p>"Crack!" went one of the panels, and Clo, flying to the door, snatched
+the key from the keyhole. She knew the panel could not last many
+minutes, and a picture rose before her mind of a hand pushing through a
+hole, to turn the key in the lock. Anyhow, that should not happen!</p>
+
+<p>Back she fled to the window again, and stared anxiously out.</p>
+
+<p>Another taxi appeared. The gray limousine had turned, and was coming
+back, also. But Clo cared only for the taxi. It was slowing down. A
+woman thrust her head out and looked up&mdash;a neat little head in a black
+toque. "Miss Blackburne!" The girl cried shrilly. The taxi stopped. But
+the door stuck. Oh, why didn't the silly chauffeur jump off his seat and
+help?</p>
+
+<p>Crash! The panel broke with a loud shriek of rending wood. The hammer
+came through, and was jerked quickly out again. A man's hand seized a
+jagged piece of the panel and tore it away. An eye peered through the
+aperture, but Clo was at the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Quick&mdash;quick!" she implored, and brandished the bag far over the sill.</p>
+
+<p>The eye disappeared from the panel, and the muzzle of a revolver took
+its place.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Blackburne had jumped down on to the pavement.</p>
+
+<p>"If you throw out that bag, I fire," a voice warned Clo&mdash;a new voice,
+not Churn's.</p>
+
+<p>The girl glanced round involuntarily, and saw the small black object
+imbedded in the smashed door panel. Her nerves jerked, but she turned
+back to the window, with a sensation of ice in her spine.</p>
+
+<p>"String these and get them to <i>her</i>, if you have to take them to
+Newport!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>There was a queer muffled explosion, not unlike the breaking of wood,
+yet somehow different. Clo felt a blow on the shoulder, and then a
+strange, heart-rending pain. She staggered, fell forward on to her
+knees, hanging over the window sill. But she threw the bag. A red light
+flamed in her eyes, not like the light of the summer day. Through the
+redness she thought she saw a little woman in black catch the bag and
+stand still, looking up. Clo tried to wave her hand, motioning "Go
+on&mdash;hurry!" and her lips formed the words. She was not sure whether the
+woman went, or whether she had been stopped at the taxi door by some men
+getting out of that gray limousine; the cloud of red had grown so thick.
+But there were noises behind her. The men in the hall had burst the door
+open. She could not look round again. Her head rested upon her arm,
+lying on the window sill. Then someone was dragging her away. It was all
+over for her in this world! But Beverley's pearls were saved.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a>XXXV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE TIME LIMIT OF HOPE</h3>
+
+
+<p>A big, blond man had hustled Mrs. Mac and Violet downstairs before the
+shot was fired. It was bewildering to them that Mr. Cheffinsky should
+come home after his strange absence with his beautiful golden beard and
+moustache shaved off.</p>
+
+<p>Cheffinsky was like an officer directing a defence. He took command
+instantly he entered the house, seeming to understand the situation
+without a question. "If any one rings, let Violet be a long time opening
+the door," he said. "But it must be opened. Don't act as if there was
+something to hide. Keep 'em talking, no matter who, or about what as
+long as you can. There's been a theft from a lady boarder, and a little
+excitement; you've only to tell the truth&mdash;see?"</p>
+
+<p>All this in a second; but it got the two women out of the way. The spy
+must be muzzled at any cost, for Cheffinsky guessed at a word from Kit
+that this was the mysterious girl of the telephone.</p>
+
+<p>"Pick her up," he said to Kit, when they had got the locked door open.
+"If any eyes are on that window, it won't look too queer for one girl to
+pull another back into the room."</p>
+
+<p>As the other two women had done, Kit obeyed. She was used to obeying
+Chuff in the past. She dragged Clo to the back of the room, out of sight
+from the window, and awaited further commands.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," Chuff said, "if we're spotted, this is a suicide&mdash;see? She stole
+your pearls, and when she was caught she killed herself."</p>
+
+<p>"But the shot's in her shoulder&mdash;and she ain't dead. She's opening her
+eyes," Kit objected.</p>
+
+<p>"She's got to be dead," Chuff decreed. "I know how to fix the bullet
+business. It'll have to be done now, because if trouble comes it will
+come quick. Look here; this is the thing to do, if there's questions to
+answer. You caught her stealing. She ran down to this room from yours,
+threw the stuff out of the window to a pal, and then grabbed my Browning
+from the mantelpiece. She'd have shot you, but seeing the men, knew the
+game was up, and did for herself instead. Shut the window, Kit. I'm
+going to put another ball into her, in the chest, just opposite the spot
+of blood on her back. Carry her into the closet, to cover the sound. I
+mustn't touch her myself. There's spots on you already. Account for them
+by saying you picked her up to see if she was alive."</p>
+
+<p>"But if she's in the closet&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She ran there, and shot at you from inside the door, after we'd all
+broken into the room to get at her. Is that clear to you both? We must
+stick to the same story. Into the closet with her, Kit."</p>
+
+<p>Clo felt a strange sensation, as if her soul had left the body that hung
+limp in Kit's strong arms, and was gazing at it with impersonal pity.
+"The worst will be ended for me in a minute," she thought. Then,
+suddenly, she remembered Justin O'Reilly. A great desolation of
+loneliness swept over her. He would be sorry. But he was far away.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>When Clo telephoned, Ellen Blackburne did not even know that the Sands
+were out of New York. The message, however, instantly awoke her sleeping
+interest. She guessed that Clo had tracked the thief, and that what she
+called the "weird address" given was the "lair." Miss Blackburne was no
+coward, and the astonishing request that came over the telephone wires
+did not frighten her. She prepared to follow instructions at once,
+taking only one precaution. Before starting, she left word that if she
+did not 'phone or return within an hour, inquiries were to be made at
+the house and in the street whose number she wrote down.</p>
+
+<p>The pearl-stringer did, therefore, precisely what she had been asked to
+do. She abandoned the work laid out for the morning, and dashed off in a
+taxi on a moment's notice. Clo's little face at the window of a
+tenth-rate boarding-house told her nothing new. Clo was always pale.
+When the girl dropped to her knees it looked to Ellen as if that
+attitude were more convenient for throwing down the bag. No sound of a
+pistol shot reached Ellen's ears over the noises of the street. She
+heard only the "teuf-teuf" of her own taxi, and the snort of a big gray
+car which had at that instant come to a stop close by. Miss Blackburne
+was used to odd adventures, and prided herself on "keeping cool," but
+she could not help giving an undignified jump as a man sprang out of the
+gray limousine and laid a hand on her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"What is in that bag and where are you taking it? I've a right to know,"
+he said sharply. "I'm a friend of Miss Riley."</p>
+
+<p>Ellen grabbed at the door of her taxi. The man was about thirty or
+thirty-two, she thought, certainly a gentleman and rather handsome. "I'm
+acting for Miss Riley," she returned as sharply. "My name's Blackburne.
+Clo's in a hurry for me to do an errand. If you're really her friend,
+you'd better let me get away while you look after her."</p>
+
+<p>The two eyed each other for an instant. "You are Miss Ellen Blackburne,
+the pearl-stringer?" the man inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"The same," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Then go on her errand!" he exclaimed. And while Ellen stared, he ran up
+the steps of the house where a companion had already rung the bell.
+Neither of the men looked again at her. Ellen waited for no more. To
+save delay and further suspense for Mrs. Sands she drove straight to the
+Park Avenue house, in order to string the pearls there: for she had
+hastily collected her materials before starting. It was a blow to hear
+from the hall porter that the Sands had already left New York; she
+decided on going up to get further information. She even thought of
+sending a long-distance message to Beverley from her own flat; but the
+grim personality of Anna Schultz banished this idea at a glance. Ellen
+realized that if she asked to enter the apartment she would be regarded
+as a suspicious character. Important business with Mrs. Sands would take
+her to Newport immediately, she told Miss Schultz. If there were any
+letter or parcel to be sent she would carry it.</p>
+
+<p>Anna's reply to this offer was a stiff refusal, but Miss Blackburne had
+not reached the lift when the woman came after her. "I've just
+remembered, there's a telegram for Mrs. Sands' French maid, you might
+give her by hand, if you're going to Newport to-day," she said, with a
+grudging air. "It will be quicker than posting." Anna Schultz slipped
+the envelope into Ellen's hand, and turned away without waiting for an
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>Having telephoned to the jewellers where she was employed, Ellen decided
+to string the pearls at home. She dared not dash off to Newport without
+seeing her mother, and arranging with a neighbour to stop in the house
+while she was gone. On second thoughts, she told herself that, for Mrs.
+Sands' own sake, it might be best not to risk a reassuring message of
+any sort in advance. Someone else might happen to receive it! She
+determined simply to work as fast as possible, and take the first train
+she could catch for Newport, with the restrung rope of pearls.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Beverley dreaded the night of the dance more even than she had dreaded
+her mission, nearly a year ago, in Albuquerque.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed very long since she had been radiantly happy in the thought of
+this glorified cottage at Newport&mdash;"Gulls' Rest"&mdash;Roger's present to
+her. She hated it now, and everything associated with it; the fuss of
+settling into the place, in a foolish hurry, though the Newport season
+had not yet begun: Roger's determination to begin with a house-party and
+a dance; his civil, quiet coldness to her; the strange look she caught
+in his eyes at times; the mystery of Clo's silence, which deepened day
+by day; fear of reprisals for loss of the papers; these things seemed
+harder to bear in Newport than at home in New York. Often Beverley
+wondered how long she would be sane.</p>
+
+<p>The Sands had brought with them a couple of friends: two others had
+joined them the day after, and half a dozen more had come since. Roger
+had engaged all the rooms in a small but delightful hotel for extra
+guests who would arrive for the dance and stay the night; and, in
+advance of the season as the house-warming was, word had gone out that
+the entertainment would be worth a long journey. The favours for the
+cotillon were said to have cost ten thousand dollars; and there was to
+be a "surprise" of some sort. Perhaps this was the reason why Mrs. Heron
+changed her mind, and John Heron wired to Roger that he and his wife
+would be pleased to come on from Narragansett, where they were spending
+a weekend for Heron's health.</p>
+
+<p>The invitation had been sent to the Herons by Roger's firmly expressed
+wish, but Beverley had not dreamed that it would be accepted. And, after
+all, they were both coming to the dance! This seemed ominous. It gave
+her one more fear for the dreaded night.</p>
+
+<p>Through the morning she still wildly hoped for news from Clo. Even as
+the afternoon wore on she did not utterly despair; but at six o'clock,
+when Roger advised her and the other women staying in the house to rest
+till dressing-time, she definitely gave up. For the first time since
+that Sunday night which marked the end of happiness, Roger slipped his
+hand under her arm in a friendly, familiar way.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along," he said. "I'll trot you up to your room and see that you
+lie down. I want you to look your best to-night; and you know dinner's
+at eight. You won't have more than an hour's nap. I suppose it'll take
+you at least an hour to dress?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just about," Beverley answered, dully. She knew that she could not
+sleep, but she was worn out with the effort of "keeping up" before her
+guests. She expected Roger to leave her at the door of her room, which
+he had entered only when the house was being shown to friends; but to
+her surprise, almost alarm, he followed her in. She said that she would
+not ring yet for L&eacute;ontine. She would unfasten her own frock and find her
+own dressing-gown.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll draw the curtains for you," Roger suggested, in the coolly kind
+manner to which she had grown accustomed during the black fortnight.
+"One rests one's brain best in twilight, I think. I'm sure you need
+rest. I never saw you so pale. I hope you're not worried about
+to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Worried? Why should I be worried?" she echoed. "I'm sure everything
+will go well, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so," he said, gravely. "You haven't shown me your new dress. I
+suppose it's come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," Beverley replied, convinced that it was not about the dress
+he thought or cared. "It came the day after we arrived."</p>
+
+<p>"Good! Then you'll be able to do full justice to the pearls!"</p>
+
+<p>Beverley had the impulse to throw herself into her husband's arms and
+upon his mercy; but she would not, or could not&mdash;she hardly knew which.
+It seemed to her that he was being purposely cruel, and was deliberately
+testing, torturing her, to see how much she could bear and not break.
+"Let him find out when the time comes," she thought, in sullen despair.
+Instead of confessing her trouble she asked if he would like to see her
+new gown.</p>
+
+<p>"No," Roger said. "I'll wait till you're ready and I can see you in your
+glory&mdash;pearls and all."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley merely smiled an answer, and wondered what Roger thought of her
+smile. He drew the curtain, and led her to rest, asking at the door that
+she would promise to call him when she was dressed. "I want to have a
+good look at you before you go downstairs," he added as he went out.</p>
+
+<p>Adjoining Beverley's bedroom was a small room whose wall appeared to be
+composed entirely of mirrors. It was a glorified wardrobe with mirror
+doors, and light and ventilation came from above. Behind the mirror
+doors were deep closets, some of which were lined with cedar, others
+with sandalwood; and at the back of one was an ingeniously concealed
+safe. In this safe Mrs. Roger Sands' jewels had already been placed, and
+among them was the empty case which had contained the queen's pearls.
+Beverley slid back the sandalwood panel, and opened the steel door
+behind it, which was manipulated by a miniature time-lock.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I wear diamonds and emeralds," she thought, "and tell Roger
+they match better with my dress than the pearls&mdash;that I'll wear the
+pearls another time?"</p>
+
+<p>But at the best this would only postpone the evil moment.</p>
+
+<p>She took off her dress of embroidered white organdie, and put on a <i>robe
+de chambre</i>. Then she dropped wearily down on a great, cushiony sofa,
+not to rest, but because she had nothing else to do.</p>
+
+<p>It was very still in her room, save for a far-off murmur of waves below
+the rocks. When she had remained thus for about three quarters of an
+hour she sprang up, her brain throbbing more feverishly, her body
+quivering more uncontrollably than when she had lain down. It was close
+upon seven o'clock, and she rang for L&eacute;ontine. Her hair had to be done,
+and the whole process of dressing would need quite an hour.</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay Mary Stuart took a lot of pains dressing to have her head cut
+off," she thought bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>L&eacute;ontine came, and made ready her mistress's bath. She emptied a bottle
+of eau de Cologne into the tepid water, but for once the refreshing
+scent failed to revive Beverley. She was like a creature in a dream as
+L&eacute;ontine wound her long hair in bands round her head (a new fashion
+Roger had fallen in love with a few weeks ago), fastening it here and
+there with diamond pins. "Madame will be late if we are not careful,"
+the Frenchwoman said. "Everything takes so long to-night." She laid on
+the floor at Beverley's feet a cloud of silver gauze, supple as chiffon.
+It was the new dress and Madame must step into it to avoid ruffling her
+hair. Beverley obeyed, and when her arms had slid into the odd little
+jewelled sleeves, she let L&eacute;ontine draw her gently in front of a mirror.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame is like a marvellous statue of ivory and silver," the maid
+exclaimed. "But she should have some colour. If Madame&mdash;but no, it is
+too late. There is a knock. It will be Monsieur. Shall I open the door?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, open the door," Beverley echoed. Her voice sounded metallic and
+unnatural in her own ears.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXVI" id="XXXVI"></a>XXXVI</h2>
+
+<h3>"WE DO THINGS QUICKLY OVER HERE"</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Is this heaven?" Clo wondered.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you darling, it's not. It's our same poor old world; but it'll be
+near heaven if you'll get well and live for me," said Justin O'Reilly.
+Then it seemed to the girl that she heard a very odd, choking sound, and
+on to her half-parted lips fell a drop of something hot. She tasted
+this, and found it salt.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you can't be crying?" she mumbled.</p>
+
+<p>"I am." O'Reilly answered, "crying with joy. I don't remember doing it
+before&mdash;in joy or sorrow. Here goes another tear! Sorry! I couldn't help
+spilling it on you. Shan't happen again."</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly's face was close to hers. She smiled up at him. Everything
+seemed strange except that he should call her darling. That, somehow,
+was not strange at all. Nor was it strange that his head should be bent
+over her upturned face. Yet he said it was the same poor old world!</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I was dead," she explained.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so, too, for a minute, and it was the worst minute and the
+worst thought I ever had. But you're alive. And you're going to live. I
+tell you that on the doctor's authority. He and the nurse are having a
+confab in the next room. In fact, when we saw you coming to all right,
+after the an&aelig;sthetic (a bullet had to come out of your poor little
+shoulder!) I asked them to leave me alone with you. I wanted to be the
+first one your eyes saw. You're going to live for me, aren't you?
+Because I adore you, you know!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know," the girl echoed, floating on a strange, bright wave of joy.</p>
+
+<p>"You know I adore you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something told me it would come out like that," she said. "In those
+long days when I had to lie still in my room and listen to Kit and
+Churn, another voice&mdash;so different from theirs!&mdash;seemed to say it in my
+ear. Your message for me in the newspaper&mdash;I was sure it was for me&mdash;put
+it into my head. I couldn't answer. But the message was the greatest
+comfort! I didn't feel alone after that."</p>
+
+<p>"Precious one! You're a star heroine, and a martyr and a saint, and I
+don't know what not. But most of all, you are my life&mdash;my very life.
+I've had a big disappointment since I parted from you&mdash;lost a thing I'd
+wanted for years&mdash;lost it to Roger Sands. His revenge for&mdash;I hardly know
+what! Yet finding you and holding you like this shows me that nothing
+else matters. What's a house, anyhow, except this darling house not made
+with hands&mdash;your little body, house of your soul? When you know me
+better, could you learn to love me, do you think, if I try hard to teach
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but I do love you already," said Clo, as a matter of course. "Even
+that first night&mdash;there was something about you&mdash;I hated to cheat and
+rob you the way I did. And it was wonderful hearing your voice in the
+telephone, in Peterson's dreadful room. It wasn't only that I hoped
+you'd help, it was because it was you&mdash;because you were different for me
+from anybody else, different even from Angel."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord, I should hope so!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I've wanted you dreadfully ever since. That's why I thought it must
+be heaven when I woke up just now and saw you."</p>
+
+<p>"You angel!"</p>
+
+<p>"How funny you should call me that. Oh, I've almost forgotten my poor
+Angel! I must get to her, somehow." Clo looked around hastily, and
+realized that she was lying on a bed in a peculiarly unattractive room,
+and that O'Reilly was kneeling on the floor by the bedside. "How wicked
+of me to think more about you than her!"</p>
+
+<p>"If you mean Mrs. Sands, you shall go to her when you're able. Mrs.
+Sands is all right. You sent her something rather important by Miss
+Blackburne, the pearl-stringer that you told me about that night in the
+taxi&mdash;and in Krantz's Keller. I talked to the woman&mdash;and cursed myself
+afterward for stopping to speak, when I found you and saw how every
+instant had counted. I oughtn't to have waited even for a second."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you couldn't have saved me if you'd come up without speaking to
+Ellen. The shot was fired before I threw out the bag with the pearls,"
+Clo broke in. "I remember now. Someone fired through the hole in the
+door. It was Chuff, I'm sure. It didn't hurt much. It was like a heavy
+blow, and I couldn't help dropping on my knees at the window. I felt
+weak and queer, but I called to Ellen. Then somebody picked me up&mdash;Kit,
+I think. I could hear them arguing what to do with me. Funny! I thought
+of you then&mdash;and that's the last I remember till now."</p>
+
+<p>"I must have been in the house by that time," O'Reilly soothed her. "I
+had come for you! I was sure you'd be where Kit was, because of the
+pearls. Denham and I had been trying to track Churn and Kit and
+Chuff&mdash;all the lot you told me about&mdash;ever since you turned me down, in
+Krantz's Keller."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't turn you down!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't mean that! You were a brave little soldier going into
+battle on your own."</p>
+
+<p>"A soldier? No, I was only a mouse."</p>
+
+<p>"I know. 'The lion's mouse.' And to gnaw the net the lion was caught in,
+you had to stick your head into another lion's den. But some memoranda
+you'd picked up and left for us put Denham on the right trail. He
+doesn't need much of a pointer, that chap! He fairly jumped on to the
+track of a fellow named Isaacs&mdash;at least Isaacs is his 'alias'&mdash;a man
+who's been suspected for a long time as a receiver of stolen goods&mdash;a
+fence. When I got the tip that Kit and Churn were staying in the house
+where we were to spot Chuff, I was sure I had the clue to you. I wish to
+God we'd been five minutes earlier; but I thank Him we weren't five
+minutes too late! If the police eventually bring the crime home to Kit
+(that's improbable, Denham thinks) there's nothing to link up the story
+with the name of Mrs. Sands."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm not sure!" breathed Clo. "Kit knows about her. She told Churn."</p>
+
+<p>"She won't tell any one else, you may depend on that. If she's accused
+of the murder, she won't confess to stealing somebody's pearls as her
+motive. She'll say that Peterson insulted her, and she feared him; some
+sob-sister stuff of that sort."</p>
+
+<p>"She did complain to Churn that Pete was horrible to her, and that if
+Churn had been there to hear what he said, he'd have killed him quick,"
+Clo remembered.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, she wanted to clear herself in the eyes of her best young man!
+How much more anxious she'd be to keep on the same line if it came to
+saving herself from the Chair! You can make your mind easy about your
+friend Mrs. Sands. I won't say a word against her. You love her. You may
+be right, I may be wrong. I'm growing humble. I don't set my judgment
+against yours, even though I know some things about the lady which it's
+probable you don't know. But she's been good to you. That makes all the
+difference to me. She's to be saved from the consequences of things
+which&mdash;you'll never hear from my lips. Saved she shall be if it depends
+at all on yours ever. But you've done so much that little more remains."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll give her the papers?"</p>
+
+<p>"The papers you returned to me that Sunday night?"</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't I who returned them. I don't know who did send them. It's the
+greatest mystery! But if you love me, you'll hand them back."</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly looked grave. "I love you," he said, "more than I ever thought
+it was in me to love, though I had an idea it might go hard with me when
+my time came. But I gave the papers to Heron, whose property they
+were&mdash;and are. I was only keeping them for him because he had reason to
+think they weren't safe in his possession."</p>
+
+<p>"John Heron!" Clo echoed. A thought had suddenly started out from the
+background of her mind, pushing in front of her fears for Beverley.
+"Yes, of course, he's a friend of yours! But he's in worse danger than
+his papers ever were. From things they said, I believe Pete came East on
+purpose to kill him. Of course, there were the papers to get as well.
+But he wanted to kill John Heron. It was Chuff who ordered him to get
+the papers. Pete had some grudge of his own against Mr. Heron, so he
+made a good catspaw. When Pete was killed, Chuff had to find someone
+else to do the job. I don't know John Heron, and never saw him in my
+life, so I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There you're mistaken," O'Reilly broke in. "Did you notice any one
+coming out of a room next to my suite when you were letting yourself in
+with my key which you had&mdash;er&mdash;found?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" cried Clo. "A beautiful woman in a black dress with gorgeous
+jewellery; and a tall man with reddish hair and beard and&mdash;Oh, eyes!
+Great dark eyes that looked at me in a strange way. I felt them in my
+spine."</p>
+
+<p>"That was the first time you saw John Heron, the man his enemies still
+call the Oil Trust King&mdash;though thanks to Roger Sands they daren't call
+him that out aloud. The second time must have been in Heron's own room.
+But you shall judge for yourself. He'd been downstairs with his wife. He
+went up to his rooms again for something, and in the hall outside his
+own door&mdash;which he'd just unlocked&mdash;he fell down in a sort of fainting
+fit. Well, putting two and two together, after you told me your
+adventure creeping along the ledge from my window to his, it occurred to
+me that there'd been just cause for the seizure. I didn't think Heron
+was the man to keel over in a faint, even for a thing like that. All the
+same, seeing that ghostly vision would account for his attack."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," said Clo. "I saw he was flabbergasted. But that first
+time at the door, when he was with his wife, he didn't look at me as if
+I were a stranger. It was as if he knew me, and almost fell over himself
+to see me again. That was the feeling I had, but I was&mdash;a little
+excited."</p>
+
+<p>"Most girls would have been corpses!"</p>
+
+<p>"I felt like a live coal. But we mustn't let the gang make a corpse of
+Mr. Heron, must we? Let's warn him. Where are we, anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Same house you were in. Doctor said it wouldn't be safe to move you. We
+disinfected the best we could in a hurry, and he extracted the bullet
+from your poor little shoulder. Thank God, I was in time, or there might
+have been another bullet or two, that couldn't be extracted! You're all
+right now, or will be with a little rest, and we'll get you into a
+nursing home. As for Heron, he and his wife have gone to Narragansett.
+That's close to Newport, you know, where Mrs. Sands is."</p>
+
+<p>"Angel in Newport already! Then the pearls&mdash;but I told Ellen Blackburne
+to take them there if she had to. Do you think she will?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! She'll catch the first train."</p>
+
+<p>"No. She won't do that. She thinks of her mother before everything. But
+the ball's not till to-morrow. Angel won't need the pearls till then.
+Oh, if I could be sure she'll get them! I can't rest till I'm sure. I
+must go to Newport. I must."</p>
+
+<p>"When you're strong enough."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm strong enough now. Is it late?"</p>
+
+<p>"Getting on toward evening. You were a long time coming to yourself.
+Presently the doctor will say whether you can be moved to-night to that
+nursing home."</p>
+
+<p>"If I can be moved to a nursing home I can be moved to Newport. Tell the
+doctor I shall burst if I can't go."</p>
+
+<p>"You may tell him yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>must</i> go. I must know if all goes right with the pearls. I must know
+if it's better or worse for Angel that Stephen's dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen's dead!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Did you know him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know of him. He is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't tell me. She mightn't want me to hear. I haven't heard anything
+except that Kit and Churn talked about his having died, and said Angel
+had been cheated."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, I begin to see light."</p>
+
+<p>"Now you see why I must go to her? And you've forgotten maybe what I
+told you about Mr. Heron. If he's near Newport, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, darling, if the doctor says you can be taken there
+to-morrow&mdash;oh, in time to arrive before the famous ball&mdash;let's say in a
+comfortable motor car, travelling slowly, banked up on cushions, will
+you go as my wife?"</p>
+
+<p>Clo stared as if O'Reilly had broken into some strange language which he
+expected her to understand. "Your wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;don't you expect to marry me? That's what happens when a girl and
+a man love each other."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;some day&mdash;if you're sure you really want an ignorant little girl
+like me, brought up in an orphan asylum, who's worked in a shop and
+hasn't a penny in the world&mdash;except a dollar or two left of Mrs. Sands'
+money. A long time from now, when you've thought about it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I've thought of nothing else since we met and parted, and I realized
+that you were my life and soul. If you can make up your mind to 'some
+day,' it might just as well be to-morrow. Don't you want to console me
+for the loss of the only other thing, besides you, I've ever wanted with
+all my heart? You do if you love me. The dear old house that was my
+father's! You know, when you sent up your name at the Dietz as Miss
+O'Reilly, I believed you were my cranky cousin Theresa, come to tell me
+she'd changed her mind about selling the house. Why, you owe it to me,
+if you care, to make up for that. Your Angel's husband has bribed
+Theresa to sell to him. The place has passed away from me forever. But
+if you'll marry me to-night I shan't care. In the joy of being
+husband&mdash;and nurse&mdash;to the bravest and dearest mouse in the world I'll
+forget everything and be the happiest man on God's earth."</p>
+
+<p>"People don't get married at a few hours' notice."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't they? How long have you lived in the United States, my Irish
+colleen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Months. Over a year. But I never discussed marriage."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm jolly glad you didn't. But you'll hear of nothing else till the
+knot's tied. We do things quickly over here."</p>
+
+<p>Then the door opened, and the doctor came in.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXVII" id="XXXVII"></a>XXXVII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE TELEGRAM</h3>
+
+
+<p>Roger Sands had hardly known himself for many days. His wife had read
+him aright. At times he was purposely cruel. At times he did wish to see
+how much she could bear and not break. Yet if she had broken, he felt
+that he could not have helped seizing her in his arms and forgiving her.</p>
+
+<p>While he dressed that night he hoped that she would send for him, or
+come to him, and confess that the pearls were gone, that she had given
+them to O'Reilly, whom she had once loved, and whom she loved no more.</p>
+
+<p>But she neither sent nor came. She was bluffing it out to the last. He
+might have known she would do that, although he had taken her to her
+room to give her one more chance to repent. At half-past seven he was
+ready, but he waited quietly ten minutes. Then he went to his door,
+meaning&mdash;as he said to himself roughly&mdash;to "get the thing over." But he
+paused with his hand on the knob. He thought that he heard a woman's
+voice saying: "May I come in?"</p>
+
+<p>His muttered comment upon one of his and Beverley's guests, whom he
+supposed the intruder to be, was far from flattering. Perhaps, however,
+it would be well not to find his wife alone. He would give Beverley a
+few minutes more, to be sure that her dress was on, before he went to
+interrupt the chorus of mutual admiration; but no woman's presence
+should prevent him from asking the question he meant to ask&mdash;"Where are
+your pearls?"</p>
+
+<p>At exactly eight minutes to eight Roger ceased his restless tramp up and
+down the room, and stopped again at the door. Before he could open it,
+however, there was a light tap&mdash;a tap like Beverley's in happier days.
+"Can she mean, after all, to tell me the truth?" he wondered; and he
+heard his voice saying mechanically, "Come in."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley came in; Roger's room was full of light, and as his wife
+entered she faced it. She glittered from head to foot like an ice maiden
+under a blazing sun. She wore a wreath of diamond roses; round her waist
+was a girdle of diamonds with long tasselled ends; on her white satin
+shoes were diamond buckles; and over her bare, white neck, her young
+gauze-enfolded bosom, hung the rope of the queen's pearls.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were coming in to see me dressed?" she said calmly. "Did
+you forget?"</p>
+
+<p>For answer Roger stared. He stepped back into the room, and let Beverley
+shut the door. She stood before him smiling, though, if he had analyzed
+her smile, he would have said that it was sad. "How do you think I
+look?" she asked, when he did not speak. "I hope you're not
+disappointed?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have had those pearls copied!" he flung at her.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley blushed bright crimson. She understood instantly what he meant
+and thought, but she had not gone through tortures and been relieved at
+the last moment to be beaten down now.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes steady, her head up.</p>
+
+<p>"You thought I didn't know. But I have known from the first. I found out
+by accident. I always hoped you'd some day tell me the truth. This is a
+cowardly thing you've done."</p>
+
+<p>Beverley was again ivory pale. "Are you a judge of pearls, Roger?" she
+coldly inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said.</p>
+
+<p>She lifted the rope over her head and thrust it, against his will, into
+his hands. "Make any test you wish, and decide whether these are the
+pearls you gave me or an imitation."</p>
+
+<p>Hardly knowing what he did, he walked to a table, on which stood a tall
+lamp that gave a brilliant light. Beverley watched him. There was no
+emotion whatever on her face. After a moment he spoke: "These are
+genuine pearls," he admitted, after a heavy silence. "And I have reason
+to believe from certain marks that they are the pearls I bought for you,
+the queen's pearls. If you give me your word, that since I put them into
+your hands you did not part with them to Justin O'Reilly, as I have
+believed, I will beg your forgiveness on the knees of my soul. I will
+confess to you&mdash;as I once expected you to confess to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! There's someone at the door!" Beverley cut him short.</p>
+
+<p>It was L&eacute;ontine who knocked, and paused on the threshold. "Will Madame
+have the kindness to step into the hall," she asked. As her mistress
+moved toward her, she retired, and it was not until they both stood at
+some distance from the door that the Frenchwoman spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg Madame's pardon for disturbing her," she apologized, "but I dare
+not delay. The lady, Mees Blackburne, if that is her name, was about to
+start back to town, but remembered a commission she had been given at
+the apartment; to bring a telegram for me. I opened it, to find that for
+me there is no sense. I know no Stephen; but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen!" Beverley gasped the name, and snatched from the woman's hand
+an open telegram she held. She read it, and then without a word or cry,
+collapsed in a dead faint. With a shriek of fear L&eacute;ontine tried to catch
+the swaying figure; but the best she could do was to break the fall.
+When Roger reached the door it was to find Beverley in a white heap on
+the floor with the Frenchwoman kneeling by her side. He caught his wife
+up, and, carrying her back into his room, laid her on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Let everybody be told that dinner will be delayed half an hour," he
+said, and shut the door in L&eacute;ontine's face. She snatched the dropped
+telegram and whisked off to obey the master's command.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXVIII" id="XXXVIII"></a>XXXVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>WHO IS STEPHEN?</h3>
+
+
+<p>As Roger stood looking down at Beverley she opened her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen is dead!" she muttered. "Stephen&mdash;is dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Stephen?" Roger asked shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Roger!" she appealed to him, breaking into sobs. "My poor Stephen!
+I shall never see him again. All my sacrifices&mdash;in vain!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Stephen?" Roger repeated.</p>
+
+<p>She held up her arms, without answering his questions. "Roger&mdash;comfort
+me!" she wept.</p>
+
+<p>And for all his life, no matter how many years he may live, Roger Sands
+will be glad that he did not hold back from Beverley then. Without
+another word he clasped her tightly, while she cried against his cheek.
+Both had forgotten that there were guests, that this was the "big night"
+which all the newspapers were talking about; that already dinner was
+late, and people wondering; that the "ball" was to begin at ten-thirty,
+and that the Russian dancers who were to open it, as the great
+"surprise," would soon be in the house.</p>
+
+<p>When Beverley had sobbed until exhaustion came, she spoke, in a tiny
+voice, like that of a tired little girl: "Because Stephen is&mdash;safe, I
+can tell you everything now. Will you listen, Roger, until the end,
+whether you can forgive me or no?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Roger answered. "But just this before you begin! I love you so
+much, Beverley, that if there's something to forgive it's forgiven
+already."</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen was my brother," she said, "the one person who belonged to me
+after father died. Mother I don't remember. She came of a high Russian
+family who were sent to Siberia as political prisoners. She was only
+sixteen, and father saved her by making her his wife. I was named 'Olga'
+after her. But for that dreadful journey from Albuquerque I had to have
+some name that wouldn't give me away when my ticket was bought. Stephen
+and I were called Bevan, because father used that name for his business
+in Russia, but his own name was Beverley. For travelling that day I was
+'Miss B. White.' Once I'd told you I was Beverley, I had always to be
+Beverley for you.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen&mdash;or Stephan, his Russian name&mdash;and I, were born in Russia,
+where father superintended an immense tract of oil wells for Mr. Heron.
+When my father was killed in an explosion (I was fourteen and Stephen
+twelve) Mr. Heron felt it his duty to look after our future. He had just
+married at that time. You must know Mrs. Heron well enough to understand
+that she wouldn't like to have two half-grown-up children thrust upon
+her. Why, she used to be jealous even of her husband's first wife, an
+Irish girl, who died years and years ago, in Ireland! It seems Mr. Heron
+hadn't told her about his old love story. She came across a picture of
+him taken with the girl, and some letters from people Mr. Heron had
+employed to search for his wife, whom he had quarrelled with and left. I
+was staying at their house when Dolores discovered the photograph and
+letters. She rushed into the room where I was with Mr. Heron. He had to
+seize her hands to keep her from tearing the picture in pieces; and he
+held them while he told her his sad story. He'd been visiting Ireland,
+it seemed, years before, and met a girl, very poor but very lovely, and
+married her when they'd known each other a few weeks. It seemed the girl
+had been engaged to someone else; and that someone took a cruel revenge
+on Heron. By a plot which he confessed afterward when it was too late,
+he made it appear that the girl had been his mistress. The evidence was
+so strong Heron could hardly help believing, so he came back to America
+and tried to forget. Years after the other man, dying of typhoid,
+confessed to a priest that he had lied, and forged letters. The priest
+wrote to Heron. But the poor, deserted girl was dead, and all that Heron
+could learn when he dashed back to Ireland to find her was that a baby
+girl had been born a few months after he left his wife. He tried for
+years to trace the child, but could not. And it was only after he'd
+given up all hope that he married Dolores Moreno. I think Mr. Heron felt
+tender over us children because of his lost little one. After leaving us
+in Russia at school for a while, and a year in England, to learn the
+language better than we knew it, another year in France and another in
+Italy (in families whom he paid to educate and take care of us) he must
+have had a longing to see what we were like. He and Dolores, his wife,
+came abroad, and brought us back to America with them, much against
+Dolores' will, I know. I was nearly eighteen, and I realized the first
+minute we met that Dolores was going to hate me. We went straight to a
+house near Albuquerque, which belongs to Mrs. Heron. Her brother Louis
+always lived there. He was an invalid, you know; about a year younger
+than Dolores; something wrong with his heart, and almost a
+hunchback&mdash;but oh, what a handsome face! When he took a violent fancy to
+me her one thought was to get me out of his way. Louis had money of his
+own. He was rich, and I suppose Dolores was afraid I might try to marry
+him, as I hadn't a penny. It was bad enough for her that Mr. Heron
+should have a tenderness for me, because of his lost child; but that
+Louis should love me was more than she could stand. I was sent to a
+boarding-school, and when I was twenty I began to teach. Dolores didn't
+like Stephen, either. She grudged every penny her husband spent for us.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Heron used his influence, and got Stephen work in Los Angeles as a
+reporter on a newspaper, when he was only eighteen. He was tall and
+handsome, and could pass for two years older at least. I was very
+unhappy at this time, for I'd begun to worry about Stephen. I was sure
+he was keeping some secret from me. But I found out nothing till the
+crash came. Oh, Roger, it was horrible. He'd fallen under the influence
+of those anarchists&mdash;those dynamiters, who had been terrorizing all
+America for years. They'd persuaded him that they were noble reformers.
+Poor Stephen was a useful tool. He never did any of the dynamiting with
+his own hands, but he used to make bombs, and carry them from place to
+place, and take letters it wasn't thought safe to send through the post.
+It was the blowing-up of the <i>Times</i> buildings in Los Angeles and all
+those innocent men being killed that sickened him, he confessed
+afterward, when at last he opened his heart to me. But he was too deep
+in to free himself. It's now two years ago that the break happened, and
+all our life collapsed&mdash;Stephen's and mine.</p>
+
+<p>"Some of the old lot he'd worked with were left&mdash;men who had managed to
+keep clear and never be suspected when William Burns, the detective, was
+fighting the Macnamaras and their gang. Only one or two who'd been under
+suspicion wriggled out from Burns' clutches. A man named Carl Schmelzer
+was the cleverest. He went abroad, and was supposed to die in Germany.
+But he didn't die. By that time they were engaged in new enterprises, as
+the old ones were too risky; but they always pretended to be working for
+Labour against Capital. John Heron was their target two years ago. The
+war cry was that he was the master, a tyrant, a plutocrat, ruthlessly
+crushing the weak. The Comrades knew our history&mdash;Stephen's and
+mine&mdash;and they tried to inflame Stephen against Mr. Heron because he'd
+failed to do for us what our father's services and death merited. But
+they made a big mistake when they ordered my brother to dynamite a
+railway bridge, just as a train with Heron's private car was due to pass
+over it. He refused, and threatened to warn Heron unless they abandoned
+all their schemes against him. That gave the gang a fearful fright. They
+thought their one chance of safety was to suppress Stephen. A friend of
+his who lived at Home Colony warned him that there was a plot to kill
+him. He came straight to me and told me the whole story. Neither of us
+had much hope. We thought the Comrades were sure to get him in the end.
+Then a wonderful thing happened. The train Stephen took, after his visit
+to me, was wrecked. Everybody in the car with Stephen was killed except
+himself. An idea came to Stephen. He put a silver cigarette-case with
+his name on it into the pocket of a man burnt past recognition&mdash;a man of
+about his own size. Then he crept away and hid for many days. When he
+hoped it might be fairly safe, he wrote to me, knowing I mourned for him
+as dead. He asked if I'd risk going with him to Russia to begin a new
+life there under another name. Of course I said 'Yes.'</p>
+
+<p>"I left the school, and some jewellery I had kept us going for a while
+till there was a ship we could take for Japan, and so get back to
+Russia. We'd have to sail from San Francisco, so presently we went to
+Oakland, travelling at night by local trains. We hoped in that way we
+should not be seen by any one we knew.</p>
+
+<p>"Whether someone did see us or not, I can't tell. Anyhow, from the day
+Stephen left me to buy our cabins on the ship I've never seen him again.
+He was kidnapped by the gang; and then began my martyrdom. They gave me
+a week of suspense. Then I got a letter. It told me that Stephen had
+been caught and would be punished by death for his treachery unless I'd
+agree to buy his life. I was warned that if I went to the police, it
+would be known to them, and Stephen instantly killed. If I consented to
+bargain I must put a 'personal' in a San Francisco paper, saying
+'Steve's sister says yes'; in that case an appointment would be made
+with a man who would tell me what to do to save Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I obeyed. Next day the same paper told 'Steve's Sister'
+where to go for instructions, and at what time. I think the man who met
+me must have been Schmelzer himself, just back from Europe. He had the
+authoritative manner Stephen had spoken of, and a great deal of gesture.
+He didn't give himself any name then, but afterward I knew him as
+Cheffinsky. To save my brother I had only to get a bundle of papers
+which were in the possession of John Heron. They were at Albuquerque in
+Mrs. Heron's house. Heron kept them there because he believed no one
+would suspect; but a spy the 'Comrades' had hired to act as a gardener
+there overheard a conversation, and knew the hiding-place. Unfortunately
+he couldn't put his hand on the papers without killing a man to get at
+them. For me, it would be simple, because Louis Moreno was in love with
+me. Louis had charge of the papers, and would let me see them if I
+treated him the right way. How Cheffinsky found out about Louis and me I
+never heard; perhaps from Stephen. I was given a day to think the matter
+over. Then there was to be another meeting in the same place. When I
+went to the rendezvous for the second time&mdash;it was in a park&mdash;I hadn't
+made up my mind. But, oh, Roger, the wretch showed me a snapshot of
+Stephen in a room, with a rope round his neck, standing on tiptoe. The
+rope was fastened to a ring in the ceiling, where a chandelier had been.
+If Stephen had dropped from fatigue he would have choked to death. 'Six
+hours a day of this medicine,' Cheffinsky said, 'till you've handed us
+the papers we want.'</p>
+
+<p>"I promised to go to Albuquerque and get them. What the papers were I
+wasn't told. Afterward I heard more about them&mdash;from Louis himself. The
+day of the second meeting in the park I was given directions what to do,
+but they were changed in a hurry. The Comrades got warning to 'clear
+out' and go East as quick as they could. A telegram reached me only a
+few hours before I was to start for Albuquerque. It said, 'Delay
+journey. Writing,' and a letter came the same night to the quiet little
+boarding-house where I stayed. My brother had been taken East, where I
+should meet him when I handed over the papers. I was told what train to
+take to Albuquerque, and what train to leave in: the Santa F&eacute; Limited. I
+was to find reservations on board for 'Miss B. White.' At Chicago I was
+to get out of the train and find a man waiting for me. You know all
+about that, and what happened. There was money in the letter of
+instructions, enough to see me through to Chicago, otherwise I couldn't
+have started. What I had was almost all gone. Oh, I can hardly bear to
+think of that day, and what I went through&mdash;before I met <i>you</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think of it&mdash;don't go on if you'd rather not," Roger begged.</p>
+
+<p>But Beverley wished to go on.</p>
+
+<p>"There was one thing the Comrades hadn't calculated upon," she said,
+"and that was that the Herons would be at Albuquerque. When the plan was
+made the Herons were at Los Angeles, and expecting to stay there. You
+must have been with them&mdash;just after the great case was decided in John
+Heron's favour&mdash;thanks to you! But Louis had been seized with one of his
+heart attacks&mdash;he had angina pectoris&mdash;and had wired for his sister.
+Dolores didn't wish to travel without her husband, so both decided to
+go. As for Justin O'Reilly, it was at Albuquerque I first saw him. It
+came out that he was taking a short holiday in California, and I heard
+talk about his visiting some place where he and his father had lived. I
+had the impression of his being a California man. Mr. Heron had helped
+O'Reilly to get into Congress. They weren't intimate, though I believe
+they're distantly related, but Mr. Heron wanted to see him before he
+went East, and wired for O'Reilly to meet them at Albuquerque. When I
+arrived, expecting to find only Louis in the house, they were all there.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a shock and a blow to me to see the Herons. I'd meant to lie,
+and tell Louis I'd come to him because I'd changed my mind, and liked
+him better than I thought. But to account for my sudden appearance,
+uninvited, to Dolores, who hated me, was another matter.</p>
+
+<p>"She and her husband supposed I was living quietly at school, mourning
+for my dead brother. I had to make up a story quickly. I said that I'd
+lost my position, and hoped they would put me up at Albuquerque until I
+could get another. They couldn't turn me out that night. And Louis was
+fairly well again by that time. He was very glad to see me. I made the
+most of his welcome&mdash;for Stephen's sake. You see, I <i>had</i> to succeed! I
+wrote a note, and slipped it into Louis' hand. In it I hinted that I had
+something very particular to say to him. He must go to his own rooms as
+soon as he could&mdash;he had a whole suite to himself which he could shut
+off from the rest of the house. It was on the ground floor. I said I
+would go to him there.</p>
+
+<p>"Now comes the most terrible part of my story. Roger, you may hate me
+when you've heard the rest! I went to Louis' room. He let me in. I told
+him that I had changed my mind. I would marry him if he wanted me to,
+but only on one condition. I said I'd heard from friends of Stephen's
+that Mr. Heron was keeping documents which concerned our dead father;
+that they were with other private papers, in the Albuquerque house, and
+in Louis' charge. If he would give the whole bundle to me to look over,
+and choose what I wished to take away, I'd be his wife whenever he
+wanted me.</p>
+
+<p>"He tried to seize me in his arms, but I threatened to go away at once
+unless he kept quiet, and did as I told him. There was a packet of
+papers, he admitted, but he vowed to me that they were only business
+papers. They were compromising to John Heron, and would do him immense
+harm&mdash;worse than ever, now that he'd just come successfully through the
+courts&mdash;if they passed into enemy hands. I insisted that there must be
+something about my father. There could be no mistake, and unless Louis
+would let me look, I'd never marry him. He still objected, arguing that
+all the things were in one envelope, sealed with three seals, which must
+not be broken, or his sister and her husband would never forgive him.</p>
+
+<p>"He went to his desk&mdash;we were in his sitting-room&mdash;and showed me a
+secret drawer between two other drawers. He took out an envelope&mdash;you've
+seen it. 'I'll try to cut off the seals with a sharp knife,' he said,
+'and I can stick them on again. While he spoke, he began looking for the
+knife he wanted, and I snatched at the envelope. But his fingers closed
+down on it. He laughed in my face. 'So that's your game!' he said. 'I'm
+not so soft as you thought!' But I struggled with him. I was strong; he
+was an invalid. He'd just been ill. When he realized that I was more
+than his match, his face looked like a devil's. I shall never forget it.
+'You'll pay for this!' he screamed at the top of his voice&mdash;an awful
+scream&mdash;'Help! murder!'</p>
+
+<p>"Overhead was what they called the living room. I knew he would be
+heard; people would come. I wrenched the envelope from him, and ran for
+the window. I dared not go to the door; I should meet someone and be
+caught. Louis grabbed my dress, shouting 'murder!' Then I seemed to go
+mad. I gave him a push, and he fell over a chair, and lay quite still. I
+rushed to the door, locked it, and took the key, to make a few minutes'
+delay. Then I jumped out of the window (I told you Louis' rooms were on
+the ground floor) and ran very fast. I won't stop now to tell you the
+adventures I had before I managed to dash into the Albuquerque railway
+station, at the last minute, after the train was in. Once in the train
+when I didn't see Louis, or Mr. Heron's secretary, or any one I expected
+to follow me, I began to hope that some other trail had been followed.
+It would have seemed more likely that I'd go back west, where I had
+friends, than travel east where I was a stranger. You promised to stand
+by me. Then you met Justin O'Reilly. I didn't dream Louis was dead. It
+was a week later, when you and I were married, that I saw in a newspaper
+about the beautiful Mrs. John Heron losing her brother suddenly, from
+heart disease. A date was mentioned: the night I took the envelope. Oh,
+Roger, I felt that I was guilty of his death. Even to save Stephen I
+could not have killed him. Do you think me a murderess? If you do, just
+let me go from your arms, and I shall understand. You needn't tell me in
+words."</p>
+
+<p>Roger held her closer. "No, my darling," he said, "you're not a
+murderess. You didn't kill Louis Moreno. He couldn't have lived many
+weeks. The doctor had warned John Heron. I love you more than ever for
+what you've gone through. It's you who should hate me for my cruelty
+and&mdash;and my beastly suspicion. But there were some things that tried me
+rather hard. Why didn't you tell me this story long ago? Surely you
+could have trusted me to keep your secret?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I could have trusted you, even though it was Stephen's secret more
+than mine. But I had taken a double oath not to tell! First, I'd
+promised Stephen himself when he came back from the dead, never to give
+any hint of the truth. Later, when he was kidnapped, I was obliged to
+swear another oath, on the memory of our dead parents, and my love for
+my brother, that I wouldn't betray Cheffinsky and his comrades. Now it's
+different. They have betrayed me. Stephen is dead. Such a girl as Clo
+Riley wouldn't have sent this message unless she knew for certain. He
+must have died just before that dreadful Sunday when all our
+unhappiness&mdash;yours and mine&mdash;began, Roger. To keep their hold over me,
+those men would have done all they could to save him till they had the
+papers they wanted to use, and ruin John Heron. Soon after you brought
+me to New York they found out about our marriage, and put 'personals' in
+the newspapers headed like those others in California: 'Steve's Sister.'
+They knew, of course, that their man, who should have met me in Chicago,
+had been prevented from coming&mdash;imprisoned on a charge which they called
+a 'frame-up' but I believe he must have picked someone's pocket and been
+arrested in the railway station. They still had power over me, although
+I was your wife, but I had power over them, too, because I'd got the
+papers they wanted. I answered the messages, and refused to give up what
+I had unless my brother fetched it. I hoped that would bring him. But he
+only wrote&mdash;a short letter. He said that he was safe for the time being,
+and was treated kindly. He would come when he could. Meanwhile, I 'must
+keep the papers and the secret'&mdash;and wait. I felt relieved after that! I
+dared to let myself be happy. Then, that Sunday, when Clo and I went out
+in the motor, a man was waiting for me in the street. He made me
+understand that he came from Stephen. His name was Peterson. He said the
+Comrades had changed their minds. They wouldn't let Stephen come to me.
+I must send the papers that night or my brother would die. When I asked
+the reason for the change, Peterson pretended not to know. Now, I
+understand at last. Stephen was dead already. Cheffinsky and the others
+had at last lost their hold over me and dared not wait longer. I sent
+the envelope to Peterson by Clo, to the Westmorland Hotel. Yes, the man
+who was murdered! That has been another horror for me. It was when I was
+taking the envelope to Clo, in the car, that I broke the rope of pearls,
+and dared not even stop to pick them up! I hoped that Stephen was
+saved&mdash;thanks to Clo&mdash;but, Roger, it was not the same envelope you took
+care of for me in the train. It had been changed. Inside, when Peterson
+opened it before Clo, he found only blank paper&mdash;writing paper of the
+Santa F&eacute; Limited train. Clo puzzled the mystery out, and explained what
+might have happened when you and I left the train in Chicago&mdash;what must
+have happened. A clever trick of Justin O'Reilly's, working for the
+Herons."</p>
+
+<p>"Justin O'Reilly! Damn him!" Roger broke out; but Beverley covered his
+lips with her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"No. He wasn't to blame. He must have thought me a monster of
+ingratitude and treachery to the Herons. The moment they saw the secret
+drawer open they would all have guessed that I'd stolen the sealed
+envelope. It was the only thing kept there. If John Heron told O'Reilly
+what the contents were, he must have supposed I meant to make money by
+blackmailing. The reason the Herons were silent and left me alone, was
+that O'Reilly had managed to have you robbed of the envelope, at
+Chicago, where it was changed for another&mdash;another just like it, given
+him by Dolores, with her seal and gold wax. So they were safe. O'Reilly
+kept the right envelope, and it was safer with him than at Albuquerque.
+But they could never be sure whether you were in the affair with me or
+not. So, I have lost you the Herons' friendship."</p>
+
+<p>"As if I cared!"</p>
+
+<p>"And Justin O'Reilly has doubted you, and detested me. But he has been
+splendid to Clo, who went to his hotel and stole the real envelope out
+of his private safe and brought it here&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"So that was it!" said Roger. "And in your boudoir I found the envelope
+addressed to him at his bank, and sent it back to the Dietz that night."</p>
+
+<p>"Roger! It was you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. You are not the only one with a confession to make. There are many
+things I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want a confession from you!" she broke in. "Whatever you did
+was right. Even before you told me, I felt you knew about the pearls
+being gone&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Though I knew, I ought to have trusted you. I ought to have trusted you
+when I heard you telephone O'Reilly&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"So you did hear! I was sure of it. I telephoned about Clo. He was
+helping her, and so, indirectly, helping me, though I'd seen him only
+when he brought her here that Sunday night, after she'd been to his
+hotel. Oh, Roger, you don't know what that child has done for me! Not
+only did she get back the envelope, and now the pearls&mdash;which Peterson
+stole&mdash;but she has gone through an ordeal terrible enough to kill most
+women, or drive them mad&mdash;that delicate girl! She may be in danger
+still&mdash;for she dropped the pearls in a bag out of a window in a shabby
+boarding-house where she has been watching a thief. Miss Blackburne has
+just told me. My one comfort is that a man, answering Justin O'Reilly's
+description, got out of a motor car in front of the house, as Miss
+Blackburne came away. Clo tricked O'Reilly, and stole from him, and
+yet&mdash;I think she bewitched him. I think he'd risk his life to keep her
+from harm. I pray that he may bring her here, safe and sound."</p>
+
+<p>"He's not likely to come to my house," Roger said. "I've just caused him
+the greatest disappointment of his life. I wanted to hurt him&mdash;and I
+found a way. By this time he must know what I've done. There's an old
+mansion in Gramercy Square built by O'Reilly's great-great-grandfather.
+Years ago there was a forced sale; and ever since Justin O'Reilly was a
+boy he has wanted to buy the house back. I have bought it. But I wish to
+heaven he would fall in love with this Clo of yours and marry her. I'd
+give them the deed of sale as a wedding present!"</p>
+
+<p>Roger had sprung up, released by Beverley, and almost shouted the words
+of his inspiration. He had forgotten everything and everybody in the
+world except his wife, the girl who had helped her, and his own late
+enemy, whom he would now gladly welcome as his dearest friend. A knock
+brought him back to realities with a start; yet he felt half dazed as he
+opened the door, to face L&eacute;ontine.</p>
+
+<p>"The butler begged of me to come," said the Frenchwoman. "Is it the wish
+of Monsieur and Madame that dinner be still longer delayed?"</p>
+
+<p>Roger turned and looked at Beverley, his hand on the door. "What shall
+we say?" he asked. "Shall I go down without you? Shall I explain that
+you've a headache&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No," Beverley answered. She stood up, tall and very beautiful, though
+deadly pale. "I have no headache. I am quite well. L&eacute;ontine, tell
+Johnson dinner may be served."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXIX" id="XXXIX"></a>XXXIX</h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE ROAD TO NEWPORT</h3>
+
+
+<p>Through the blue dusk of the June night a big gray limousine car bowled
+smoothly over the velvet road surface, with the moon overhead, and the
+sea making distant music. Turning a corner with a swing the limousine
+came upon another car, stationary and in trouble. A man in evening dress
+was holding an electric lamp for the chauffeur to peer under the bonnet,
+and standing beside him was a woman in black, wearing a filmy purple
+cloak.</p>
+
+<p>"Want any help?" O'Reilly called from the window, while his chauffeur
+slowed down.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you! We'll soon be all right," answered the man with the
+lamp. The light shone on his face, which was strange to O'Reilly, and on
+that of the woman, which, to his surprise, was familiar. "You can go
+on," he said to his chauffeur, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mr. O'Reilly, it was Mrs. Heron!" Clo cried, sinking back
+reluctantly upon her comfortably rigged-up bed, after a long stare
+through the window.</p>
+
+<p>"'Mr. O'Reilly,' indeed? Don't you realize I'm your husband?" Justin
+laughed at her.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd forgotten," said Clo. "It's only since this morning, and we've had
+so many things to think of."</p>
+
+<p>"I've thought of nothing but you. You seem to have thought of nothing
+but your Angel&mdash;and these Herons."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the Herons I'm thinking of now," Clo confessed. "Why did you tell
+the man to go on?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I like old John Heron, but I'm not a spoil-sport."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm wondering if Mrs. Heron and that chap are on their way to the
+Sands' ball. If Heron doesn't mind letting them enjoy each other's
+company, why should I butt in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Heron was in the car," Clo insisted gravely. "It was dark inside,
+but I saw his face at the window."</p>
+
+<p>"You must have sharp eyes," said Justin. "The window looked black as a
+pocket to me."</p>
+
+<p>"You think I imagined it. But I'm sure! Oh, Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;Justin, do let's go
+back and warn him! I have a presentiment that if we don't, it will be
+too late."</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever you feel as if you must do shall be done," said Justin, with a
+tenderness in his voice of which few people would have believed him
+capable. "The doctor humoured you, and told me to, so here goes!" He
+called through the speaking-tube, and directed the chauffeur to turn.
+"Go back till you get within a few yards of that auto we passed hung up
+on the road," he added. And to Clo:</p>
+
+<p>"Astonishing the interest you take in the Herons!" he teased.</p>
+
+<p>"Not in them. In him. I don't think I like Mrs. Heron," she explained.</p>
+
+<p>"You've worried about him ever since you came to yourself yesterday. But
+then, I'm used to John Heron's life being threatened. It used to happen
+about once a week. And he is alive to this day."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel awfully responsible," said Clo. "You see, I heard Kit and Churn
+talking of the plot, and saying that Chuff was sure to have found
+someone else, after Pete died."</p>
+
+<p>"I tried to get Heron three times on long distance yesterday," said
+O'Reilly, "and when he was always out, I wired."</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't explain clearly in the telegram."</p>
+
+<p>"If you really saw him in the car, he's all right, up to date. There it
+is, still stranded. We shall soon know."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you get out and talk to him seriously?" Clo urged.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. If it's he and not his ghost you saw. I'll get him to walk along
+the road with me, out of earshot from his wife."</p>
+
+<p>The gray limousine slowed, and carefully stopped. The chauffeur had been
+told that, for his life, he must not let the car jolt or jerk.</p>
+
+<p>Justin kissed his bride of a few hours good-bye for a few minutes, and
+jumped out.</p>
+
+<p>While Clo kissed her hand, almost timidly, because Justin had kissed it,
+Justin himself walked on to the other car.</p>
+
+<p>"You!" exclaimed Dolores Heron. "So it was you in the limousine that
+hailed us? Funny I didn't recognize your voice, but the chauffeur's
+tinkering made such a noise&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly was about to ask for Heron when Dolores introduced him to Mr.
+Hammersley-Fisher. "He's our host at Narragansett, and is taking us over
+to Roger Sands,'" she said. "Jack's in the car, very bored. I believe
+he's gone to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he hasn't," Heron's voice answered rather testily, for he secretly
+disliked Dolores' habit of calling him "Jack." "He's only waiting for a
+chance to speak!"</p>
+
+<p>O'Reilly went to the window of the car, and shook hands with his
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not possible that you're going to the Sands'?" Heron said.</p>
+
+<p>"I should have made the same remark about you a few days ago," retorted
+O'Reilly. "But&mdash;circumstances have altered cases with us both."</p>
+
+<p>"My wife is the circumstance that has altered my case," Heron replied,
+in the tone of a man with a grievance.</p>
+
+<p>"So is mine!" returned Justin, in a purposely subdued tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Your&mdash;what?"</p>
+
+<p>"My wife. But let's take a walk. Your friend's auto won't be ready to
+move for some time, I should judge."</p>
+
+<p>The elder man, who had been feeling ill and tired, sprang out of the car
+with a sudden increase of liveliness. Dolores and Hammersley-Fisher
+stood with their backs to the two men. Heron's wife turned for a glance,
+but let them walk away without a question. She was flirting with her
+host.</p>
+
+<p>Dolores was saying to Hammersley-Fisher: "I dislike Mrs. Roger Sands
+intensely. I wouldn't dream of going to her house if her husband hadn't
+at one time done quite a service&mdash;legally, I mean&mdash;to mine. I don't
+often talk like this about people I'm going to visit. But if I could
+tell you the things that woman has done you wouldn't blame me."</p>
+
+<p>To O'Reilly Heron was repeating, as they walked along:</p>
+
+<p>"Your wife, did you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did say. But before I go on I've a question or so to ask. You got my
+wire, advising you to be careful, and hinting that some of the old lot
+had bobbed up along your life line?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. We were out all the afternoon. I found the wire this evening when
+we got back to Hammersley-Fisher's place to dress for this show at Roger
+Sands'. Now will you tell me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you this, that my opinion of Mrs. Roger Sands has changed.
+You shall hear why presently. I rather think it will give you pleasure
+to change yours&mdash;when you can conscientiously. As for Sands himself,
+I've learned that we have both done him an injustice in regard to those
+papers."</p>
+
+<p>"How have you learned all this?"</p>
+
+<p>"From the same person who wished me to put you on your guard&mdash;made me
+call you up at Narragansett, and wire when I couldn't reach you by
+'phone!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this person?"</p>
+
+<p>"My wife. And if you want to know who she is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I most certainly do."</p>
+
+<p>"I could introduce you to her in about two minutes if I weren't afraid
+of her giving you another shock."</p>
+
+<p>"Another&mdash;shock?"</p>
+
+<p>"As she did on the Sunday night at our hotel when you had your&mdash;little
+attack. Heron, I've married that girl; the most wonderful girl in the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>Heron stopped short.</p>
+
+<p>"That girl!&mdash;you&mdash;have&mdash;<i>married</i> that girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Justin, "I married her this morning. So, if you'd been
+inclined to forbid the banns, you're too late."</p>
+
+<p>For an instant Heron did not speak. But when words came, he seemed to
+fling them at his friend: "You're not joking when you say that,
+O'Reilly. You have a meaning. What's in your mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps&mdash;the same thing that's in yours, Heron."</p>
+
+<p>"Speak out plainly."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not prepared to do that without encouragement. You and I are both
+of Irish blood, Heron, so you know as well as I do that imagination gets
+out of hand now and then with us Celtic folk. We generally flatter
+ourselves it's second sight, whereas it may be&mdash;just nothing at all."</p>
+
+<p>"I give you leave to speak."</p>
+
+<p>"Long ago, when I first knew you, while my father was still alive, and
+before you married Miss Moreno, you once came to stop with us. You were
+run down and ill. My father thought we could do you good. One day you
+spoke rather frankly about a certain incident in your past. Never since
+have we mentioned that conversation, and I never expected to do so
+again. Yesterday I heard the story of another incident which matched it
+about as perfectly as two bits of a broken coin can join together. This
+second incident concerned two Irish girls. The first died years ago. The
+second&mdash;is my wife."</p>
+
+<p>"And the first was mine."</p>
+
+<p>"I was wondering. You see, that collapse of yours on Sunday night wasn't
+like you, in the normal course of things. It had to be accounted for,
+and so&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The girl told you!"</p>
+
+<p>"She told me that she'd met outside my door a tall man with red hair and
+beard, and extraordinary eyes that pierced her through and through. She
+told me that, after she'd walked on to a stone ledge from my window to
+yours, and climbed in there&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Great Heavens!"</p>
+
+<p>"I mentioned that she was the most wonderful girl in the world. You'll
+hear the story some day. She didn't know who you were, then. When she
+learned your name, although she wasn't conscious of having heard it in
+the past, it affected her strangely. She seemed to associate it with
+wakeful nights in her early childhood, and the sound of a woman's sobs
+in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, Justin. I can't stand any more&mdash;now. The sight of her face that
+Sunday at the Dietz&mdash;the ghostliness of her, in my locked room&mdash;I
+thought I was haunted."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to see her again, and judge for yourself whether&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Take me to her," Heron broke in.</p>
+
+<p>They started on again toward the gray limousine drawn up at the roadside
+only a few yards away; but before they had gone a dozen steps Heron
+stopped O'Reilly once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Does she know?" he asked abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have said nothing to her," Justin assured him. "She cannot know. Yet
+I think, what one would call her 'subconscious self' is aware of a tie
+between you and herself. She's Celtic, too! She hasn't been able to rest
+since she learned (in a way you shall hear about later) that your life
+was threatened. I'm certain that something above Fate has brought us
+three together on the road to-night. I didn't see you in the car. She
+saw you. She made me turn back."</p>
+
+<p>Without another word Heron began to walk very fast. Justin kept at his
+side, but did not speak until they had nearly reached the car which
+contained Clo. Then he warned Heron hastily that the girl had had an
+accident. "That is," he corrected himself, dryly, "she was shot by the
+leader of the band that's after you. If you want to tell her here and
+now what you think you are to each other, I don't forbid it. Happy news
+seldom hurts. (By the by, she explained to me that she came over to
+America because she thought the States looked small on the map, and she
+might meet her American father!) Go gently with her, that's all I ask."</p>
+
+<p>"You give me leave to talk to her&mdash;as I wish?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But&mdash;what about Mrs. Heron? Is she&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, later, I must tell her. To-night I want it to rest between
+ourselves. But, O'Reilly, I can't go on with my wife and that fellow,
+Hammersley-Fisher, to the Sands'&mdash;after this! What am I to do? Think
+for me. I can think only&mdash;of one thing."</p>
+
+<p>"When I've introduced you to my wife" (each time O'Reilly spoke those
+two words it was with tenderness and pride) "I'll go back to
+Hammersley-Fisher's car and suggest that he take Mrs. Heron on, while we
+follow later, if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"For heaven's sake, do."</p>
+
+<p>They had reached the gray limousine. Justin opened the door. "Clo, here
+is my old friend, John Heron, come to see you," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>"Clo! Her name's not 'Clodagh,' is it?" the question leapt from Heron's
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"It was one of my mother's names, Mr. Heron."</p>
+
+<p>"And your voice is her voice!" he exclaimed. "Your face is her face." He
+had not meant to begin in this way; but the moment was too big for him
+when Clo switched on an electric lamp, and the light framed her in
+silver. Justin silently moved away, leaving the two to make acquaintance
+as Fate led.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning the newspapers all over the country were head-lined with a
+new sensation. Mrs. John Heron, of California, had arrived rather late,
+on account of an accident to the car of Mr. Hammersley-Fisher, who had
+been entertaining the Herons at Narragansett. Mr. Heron, owing to
+indisposition, had remained behind, and only the lady's host had
+accompanied her to the ball. At the moment of their entrance a dance,
+given by several famous Russian professionals, was nearly ended. An
+extra dancer had accompanied the party as an understudy of one of its
+members who feared a breakdown. Not being called upon to dance, he had
+taken up his station near the door, and must have known Mrs. John Heron
+by sight, though not her husband. When she came in, accompanied by
+Hammersley-Fisher, he shot the latter through the breast, calling out in
+English: "Take that, John Heron, for your sins against the Comrades!"</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately the Russian&mdash;or pretended Russian&mdash;was allowed to escape
+in the confusion, but the police had hopes of getting upon his track.
+Mr. Hammersley-Fisher was seriously, but not fatally, injured. All the
+guests of Mr. and Mrs. Sands, with the exception of four, had left, that
+the house might be kept quiet for the invalid.</p>
+
+<p>The four who remained were Mr. and Mrs. John Heron, Justin O'Reilly, and
+Justin O'Reilly's wife.</p>
+
+<p>THE END</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Books_by_the_Same_Authors" id="Books_by_the_Same_Authors"></a><i>Books by the Same Authors</i></h2>
+
+
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+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chaperon, The</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Everyman's Land</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Golden Silence, The</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Guests of Hercules, The</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Heather Moon, The</span></p>
+
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+
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+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lightning Conductor, The</span></p>
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+<p><span class="smcap">Lightning Conductor Discovers America, The</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lord Loveland Discovers America</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Motor Maid, The</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My Friend the Chauffeur</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Port of Adventure, The</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Princess Passes, The</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Princess Virginia</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Rosemary in Search of a Father</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Secret History</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Set in Silver</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Soldier of the Legion, A</span></p>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S MOUSE***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 21998-h.txt or 21998-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
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+*** END: FULL LICENSE ***
+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,9262 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Lion's Mouse, by C. N. Williamson and A.
+M. Williamson, Illustrated by Harry Stacey Benton
+
+
+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 Lion's Mouse
+
+
+Author: C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
+
+
+
+Release Date: July 4, 2007  [eBook #21998]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S MOUSE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustration.
+      See 21998-h.htm or 21998-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/9/21998/21998-h/21998-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/9/21998/21998-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LION'S MOUSE
+
+by
+
+C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON
+
+Frontispiece By Harry Stacey Benton
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Garden City New York
+Doubleday, Page & Company
+1919
+
+Copyright, 1919, by
+C. N. & A. M. Williamson
+All Rights Reserved, Including That of Translation into Foreign
+Languages, Including the Scandinavian
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a
+young and beautiful woman hovering at the door._
+
+_'Oh, do help me!' she said._]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+       I. THE LION
+
+      II. THE NET
+
+     III. THE MOUSE
+
+      IV. THE MURMUR OF THE STORM
+
+       V. ON THE WAY TO THE CAR
+
+      VI. THE PARCEL WITH THE GOLD SEALS
+
+     VII. THE QUEEN'S PEARLS
+
+    VIII. BEVERLEY TALKS
+
+      IX. THE BLUFF THAT FAILED
+
+       X. THE BLUFF THAT WON
+
+      XI. O'REILLY'S WAISTCOAT POCKET
+
+     XII. THE HORIZONTAL PANEL
+
+    XIII. "THERE CAN BE NO BARGAIN"
+
+     XIV. THE STONE COPING
+
+      XV. THE NUMBER SEVENTEEN
+
+     XVI. A QUOTATION FROM SHAKESPEARE
+
+    XVII. THE MYSTERY OF THE BOUDOIR
+
+   XVIII. DEFEAT
+
+     XIX. THE BROWN TRUNK
+
+      XX. MURDER
+
+     XXI. "KIT!"
+
+    XXII. THE VOICE THAT DID NOT SEEM STRANGE
+
+   XXIII. "WHAT'S DONE CAN'T BE UNDONE"
+
+    XXIV. ROGER'S APPOINTMENT AT THE CLUB
+
+     XXV. KRANTZ'S KELLER
+
+    XXVI. THE GIRL IN PINK
+
+   XXVII. WHEN BEVERLEY CAME HOME
+
+  XXVIII. MR. JONES OF PEORIA
+
+    XXIX. ACCORDING TO THE MORNING PAPERS
+
+     XXX. WHAT CLO DID WITH A KNIFE
+
+    XXXI. THE NINE DAYS
+
+   XXXII. "STEPHEN'S DEAD!"
+
+  XXXIII. THE PATCH ON THE PILLOW
+
+   XXXIV. TRAPPED
+
+    XXXV. THE TIME LIMIT OF HOPE
+
+   XXXVI. "WE DO THINGS QUICKLY OVER HERE"
+
+  XXXVII. THE TELEGRAM
+
+ XXXVIII. WHO IS STEPHEN?
+
+   XXXIX. ON THE ROAD TO NEWPORT
+
+
+
+
+THE LION'S MOUSE
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE LION
+
+
+Roger Sands had steel-gray eyes, a straight black line of brows drawn
+low and nearly meeting above them, thick black hair lightly powdered
+with silver at the temples, and a clean-shaven, aggressive chin. He had
+the air of being hard as nails. Most people, including women, thought
+him hard as nails. He thought it of himself, and gloried in his armour,
+never more than on a certain September day, when resting in the Santa Fe
+Limited, tearing back to New York after a giant's tussle in California.
+But--it was hot weather, and he had left the stateroom door open.
+Everything that followed came--from this.
+
+Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a woman hovering,
+rather than standing, at the door. At his look she started away, then
+stopped.
+
+"Oh, do help me!" she said.
+
+She was young and very beautiful. He couldn't stare quite as coldly as
+he ought.
+
+"What can I do for you?" was the question he asked.
+
+He had hardly opened his mouth before she flashed into the stateroom and
+shut the door.
+
+"There's a man.... I'm afraid!"
+
+Though she was young and girlish, and spoke impulsively, there was
+something oddly regal about her. Princesses and girl-queens ought to be
+of her type; tall and very slim, with gracious, sloping shoulders and a
+long throat, the chin slightly lifted: pale, with great appealing violet
+eyes under haughty brows, and quantities of yellow-brown hair dressed in
+some sort of Madonna style.
+
+"You needn't be afraid," he said. "Men aren't allowed to insult ladies
+in trains."
+
+"This man hasn't insulted me in an ordinary way. But I'm in dreadful
+danger. American men are good to women, even strangers. You can save my
+life, if you will--or more than my life. But there's only one way." Her
+words came fast, on panting breaths, as though she had been running. The
+girl had stood at first, her hand on the door-knob, but losing her
+balance with a jerk of the train, she let herself fall into the seat.
+There she sat with her head thrown wearily back, her eyes appealing to
+the eyes that looked down at her.
+
+A queer fancy ran through the man's brain. He imagined that a woman
+being tried for her life might look at the judge with just that
+expression. "What do you mean?" asked Sands.
+
+He had resisted the jerk of the train, and was still on his feet.
+Instead of answering his question, the girl begged him to sit down.
+
+"I can't think properly while it seems as if you were waiting to turn me
+out," she said.
+
+Sands sat down.
+
+"I hardly know how to tell you what I mean. I hardly dare," the voice
+went on, while he wondered. "It's a tremendous thing to ask. I can't
+explain ... and if I hesitate it will be too late. I don't know your
+name, or your character, except what I judge from your face. The way to
+save me is to keep me in this stateroom with the door shut, as far as
+Chicago."
+
+"Good heavens! That's...." Sands was going to end his sentence with
+"absolutely impossible!" But he stopped in the midst. Her eyes made him
+stop. It was as if he were pronouncing a death sentence. He was silent
+for a few seconds.
+
+"I'd have to say ... no, I could not say you were my wife, because
+everyone knows I've not got a wife. I'll say you are my cousin: say
+you've come late. I want you to have this stateroom, and I'll take
+another ... or a section. I--I could do that."
+
+"Will you?" she breathed.
+
+"Yes. I will."
+
+He said this almost sullenly. He was thinking: "Pretty smart new dodge!
+Neat way to get a stateroom all the way from Albuquerque to Chicago."
+
+"I'll go out now and fix things up with the conductor," he promised. "We
+must settle on a story. You came on board at Albuquerque just now?"
+
+"Yes. The last minute before the train started. I have a berth in this
+car. I thought I was safe, that everything was right for me. Then I saw
+the man ... not the one I expected; worse. He wasn't in this car, but
+the next. I saw him standing there. He was looking at some ladies
+passing through. One had on deep mourning, and a crepe veil. Perhaps he
+believed it was I. I turned and rushed this way. Your door was open, and
+you ... you looked like a real man. That's all."
+
+"What about your baggage?"
+
+"I have nothing. I ... was in a hurry."
+
+"In what name did you make your reservation?"
+
+"Miss Beverley White. White isn't my real name: Beverley is ... one of
+my names. I can't tell you more."
+
+"All right. The porter will get some toilet things for my cousin whom
+I'm to chaperon from Albuquerque to Chicago, and who nearly missed the
+train owing to illness. He'll bring your meals in, as you're not able to
+leave your stateroom."
+
+"That's what I'd have asked," she said. "I may trust the porter?"
+
+"The porter knows me. Your idea is," he went on, his hand on the door,
+"that the man you don't want to see will try pretty hard to see you?"
+
+"Yes. When he searches the train and can't find me (I'm sure he's begun
+the search already) he can't be certain I'm on board, but he won't give
+up easily. If the deepest gratitude----"
+
+"I don't need consolation. Any other instructions to give before I leave
+you?"
+
+"No. Yes ... there's one thing. Will you take charge of a very small
+parcel? I daren't keep it myself, in case anything unexpected should
+happen.
+
+"It is inside my dress," the girl explained. For an instant she turned
+her back, then, rebuttoning her blouse with one hand, held out to him in
+the other a long, thick envelope, unaddressed, and sealed with three
+gold-coloured seals. Roger took the parcel.
+
+"You see how I trust you," she said. "This packet is the most valuable
+thing I have in the world, yet I feel it is safe."
+
+"You told me you didn't know my name. But if I'm your cousin you'd
+better know it. I'm Roger Sands----"
+
+"Roger Sands, the great--what is the word?--corporation lawyer? The man
+who saved the California Oil Trust king?" She looked surprised, almost
+frightened.
+
+"It isn't a 'Trust,' or I couldn't have saved him. That was just the
+point."
+
+"How lucky I am to have such a man stand by me! For you will?"
+
+He slipped the long envelope into an inside breast pocket of his gray
+tweed coat. "It's as safe there as in a bank," he assured her. "Now I'll
+go and make everything straight. If you want me, you've only to ring for
+the porter and send me word. I won't come till you do send."
+
+Whether or no her terror was justified, Roger resolved to give it the
+benefit of the doubt. Instead of trying to secure another stateroom, he
+would try to get a section close to Stateroom A, in order to play
+watch-dog.
+
+It wasn't difficult to do. The section he wanted was engaged from the
+next stopping place, but an exchange could be made. The Pullman car
+conductor took it upon himself to attend to that. Sands' suitcase, coat,
+and magazines were arranged on both seats, and he sat down to keep
+guard. The porter had been told that Miss White wasn't to be disturbed
+unless she rang, except at meal times, when he--Sands--would choose
+dishes from the menu and send a waiter from the dining-car.
+
+A few toilet things were somehow procured by the negro, and handed into
+Stateroom A, with a contribution of novels, magazines, and a box of
+chocolates, from Miss White's cousin.
+
+Night, Roger realized, would be the dangerous time, if danger there was,
+and he decided not to sleep. Lying awake wasn't, after all, very
+difficult, for the portrait of the girl was painted on Roger's mind. He
+saw things in that portrait he'd seen but subconsciously in the
+original. He thought that her beauty was of the type which would shine
+like the moon, set off with wonderful clothes and jewels. And from that
+thought it was only a step to picture the joy of giving such clothes and
+jewels. The man was surprised and ashamed to find himself thrilling like
+a boy.
+
+Daylight released him from duty. He dressed, and had his section made
+up. Though all peril--if any--had vanished with the night, Roger
+couldn't bring himself to leave his post for breakfast until he saw the
+porter tap at the door of Stateroom A in answer to a ring.
+
+"I hope Miss White's feeling better," he said to the negro, when the
+door shut once more.
+
+"Yes, sah, she wants her room fixed up. Ah'm gwan do it raight now, but
+Ah'm bound to give yuh the lady's message fust. She thought you'd like
+to heah she's mighty well, considerin'. An' she'll thank yuh, suh, to
+order her some coffee an' toast."
+
+Roger added cantaloupe to the order, and a cereal with cream. The
+mysterious girl hidden in his stateroom was no longer an adventuress,
+sponging on his idiotic generosity: she was an exquisite, almost a
+sacred, charge. As he ate his breakfast in the dining-car he saw a man
+he knew sitting directly opposite him at the next table. Their eyes
+encountered. Roger felt that the other had been staring at him and
+hadn't had time to look away. He bowed, and paused at the table which he
+was obliged to pass on his way out.
+
+"How do you do, O'Reilly?" he said, with a slight stiffness. He would
+have preferred to walk past with no more than the nod, but in that case
+the man would believe his late absent-mindedness had been deliberate.
+Roger didn't wish to leave this impression. Justin O'Reilly was nearly
+ten years younger than he, but had got the better of him once, and not
+long ago. Sands was too proud to let it seem as if the memory rankled.
+
+O'Reilly rose and shook the offered hand. He was tall and lean, and
+brown-faced as a soldier back from the war. He had a boyish air, younger
+than his thirty-one or thirty-two years: but under that look was the
+same sort of hardness and keenness which was the first thing a stranger
+noticed about Sands.
+
+"I'd no idea you were out west."
+
+"It's been a flying trip," O'Reilly answered.
+
+"Queer I missed seeing you before. Suppose you've been on board since
+Los Angeles?"
+
+"I caught sight of you last night for the first time," said the other.
+"I'm not in your car, and I've been resting up. I came on board tired.
+One usually does come on board tired!"
+
+"Yes," said Roger. "Well, we shall knock up against each other now and
+then, here in the diner."
+
+"Sure to. I shall be spending a few days in New York before Washington,"
+O'Reilly volunteered.
+
+"Right! But don't let your coffee get cold for me." Roger passed on.
+
+If his thoughts had not been focussed on the occupant of Stateroom A he
+would have wondered a good deal as to what had taken Justin O'Reilly on
+a "flying trip" west. This was O'Reilly's first year in Congress, and
+he'd manoeuvred to make himself a conspicuous figure in Washington one
+way or other. His own present interests could not, Roger thought, be
+interfered with by Justin O'Reilly. The man was a Democrat, and opposed
+on principle to the cause of John Heron, whom Miss White had called the
+"California Oil Trust King": but personally the two were friends, even
+distantly related, and O'Reilly would wish to do Heron no secret injury.
+
+When he got back to his own car Sands found the porter waiting.
+
+"Lady's through breakfus, suh, and would like to see yuh w'en
+convenient," was the message: and two seconds later Stateroom A's
+rightful owner was humbly knocking at the door.
+
+The girl's beauty struck the man anew as she smiled him a welcome. She
+was as well groomed as if she had had a lady's maid.
+
+"Has anything happened? Have you had any trouble on my account?" she
+inquired.
+
+When Roger said no, nothing had happened, she drew a breath of relief.
+
+"No one in any way noticeable has tried to get acquainted with you?"
+
+"The conductor and porter and a waiter or two are the only persons I've
+exchanged a word with--except a fellow I know slightly, named O'Reilly,
+a Congressman from California. I suppose he doesn't interest you?"
+
+"No man interests me ... unless the one who is saving my life," the girl
+answered surprisingly. As she spoke, a wave of rose-colour poured over
+her face, and she turned quickly away in confusion. Roger felt that she
+had blurted it out, scarcely knowing what she said until too late.
+Instead of liking her less, he liked her better. He brought forth the
+envelope to show. It had been under his pillow all night, he told her.
+
+"I don't know what I should have done without you!" she said, with a
+gratitude that was almost humble. There'd be a certain blankness, Roger
+couldn't help seeing, when the time came to do without _her_!
+
+"When we get to Chicago," he asked, "how can I help you there?"
+
+"Oh, I expect to be met by a friend. I suppose I shan't see you again:
+but I shall never forget."
+
+Roger Sands felt a horrid twinge of some unpleasant emotion. He loathed
+the "friend" who would take the girl away from him.
+
+"But Chicago's a long way off," she said when he did not speak. "It must
+seem a wild story to you, but the danger I'm in ... the danger that this
+envelope is in ... won't be over for one minute till you've put me into
+my friend's hands. You will do that, won't you? You'll see me through
+till the last?"
+
+"I will," said Roger.
+
+"And meanwhile you'll come and call on me in the stateroom sometimes if
+you don't mind?"
+
+Roger smiled. A silver lining began to glimmer through the cloud.
+
+By good luck he knew no one on board save O'Reilly, who fortunately was
+in another car, and he hoped that few people knew him. He could not
+resist her invitation. He began by deciding to spend a half hour with
+his "invalid cousin" now and again. As through the veil of beauty he
+caught glimpses of something like character within, Roger felt that the
+mystery thickened.
+
+The inevitable moment came. The porter was brushing men's hats and
+coats. Suitcases were being fastened up. The Limited was slowing down in
+the big station. Then, and not till then, did Miss White show herself at
+the door of Stateroom A. Sands, who had knocked to tell her that she had
+better come out, was waiting to guard her for the last time. Neither had
+much to say. The hope of haven had not raised the girl's spirits. As
+Sands gave her a hand, stepping on to the platform, he saw Justin
+O'Reilly, already out of the train and looking about with the air of
+expecting someone. O'Reilly took off his hat, with an unnecessarily
+cordial smile for Sands. At heart they were enemies. Roger took the
+smile to mean amusement at sight of his companion. He felt annoyed. Miss
+White was looking straight ahead, a brilliant colour staining the cheeks
+usually pale.
+
+The rendezvous, she had explained to him, was at a news stand. "There!"
+she said, "that is where he will be. There's such a crowd, I can't see
+him yet."
+
+They neared the news stand, and as "Miss White" was a tall girl whose
+head could be seen above the hats of average women, he expected a man to
+start eagerly forward. But no man separated himself from the crowd. She
+was beginning to look anxious: there was no flush on her cheeks now.
+
+"Where can he be?" she said. "Something must have happened."
+
+"Taxi broken down, perhaps," Roger tried consolation.
+
+"Oh, if only it's nothing worse! I must just wait. But you, Mr. Sands, I
+oughtn't to ask...."
+
+"You needn't," Roger cut her short. "I'm not going to desert you."
+
+"I might have known you wouldn't. He can't be long!"
+
+"What about the envelope? Will you have it now?" Roger asked. She had
+begged him to keep it until they were out of the train.
+
+"Not yet. I daren't. You're sure it hasn't been stolen from you? Do
+please make certain!"
+
+He put his hand inside his coat, and felt the envelope, which was safe,
+of course. "It's there, as large as life."
+
+"Thank heaven!" she breathed.
+
+Minutes passed: fifteen minutes; twenty; thirty. The girl was white as
+ashes, and dark shadows lay under her eyes. "All hope is over!" she
+said, as Sands glanced at his watch, when they had stood for
+three-quarters of an hour. "Some terrible thing has prevented him from
+meeting me. I don't know what's going to become of me now!"
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE NET
+
+
+"You made no plan what to do if your friend didn't turn up?" Roger
+enquired. "Have you any other friends in Chicago?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+"Have you ever lived here, or stayed here?"
+
+"No."
+
+If he had now been capable of suspecting her, all his first suspicions
+of Miss Beverley White would have marshalled themselves in his brain.
+Nothing had happened during the whole journey to justify her fantastic
+story of mysterious danger. As for the wonderful envelope, who could
+tell that it didn't contain blank paper? But Sands had got beyond this
+stage. If he were a fool, he asked to be nothing better.
+
+"Is that friend you talk of more than a friend?"
+
+"No, only a person I trusted for reasons I can't tell you."
+
+"I see. And you don't know what will become of you since he's failed
+you, and you're turned adrift in a strange town?"
+
+"I don't know at all. I feel stunned--as if it didn't matter."
+
+"It does matter to a girl like you, left alone without friends in a big
+city where you're a stranger. Have you money?"
+
+"I had enough and more than enough for my journey here, enough to pay
+you back for all you've done. I expected to get more money, and to be
+looked after in Chicago. Perhaps I can find work."
+
+"Do you think after all that's passed I can go coolly on my way leaving
+you alone in Chicago? I may be a fool, but I have another proposal to
+make." He paused.
+
+She looked up as if startled.
+
+"What do you say to marrying me and going on to New York as my wife?"
+
+For a minute he thought she was going to faint. She seemed suddenly to
+become limp. She swayed a little on her feet, and he caught her arm.
+
+"You're tired out, standing so long," he exclaimed.
+
+"No, it's not that. Forgive me. It was almost too much, finding out the
+height of your goodness. Yet, 'height' is the word!"
+
+"You'll marry me, then!" he cried.
+
+"No," the girl answered, "I thank you with my whole heart, but I can't."
+
+"Why ... why?" he stammered. "Unless you're married already."
+
+"I'm not married. No man has ever been anything to me. I swear that to
+you! But I can't tell you any more about myself."
+
+Roger did not speak for a minute. At last he said:
+
+"See here, you and I have got to talk. We can't do that where we are,
+with people jostling us this way and that. There's one thing certain.
+However this ends, I'm not going to leave you alone in Chicago. We've
+got plenty of time. Will you let me take you to a quiet restaurant? We
+can thrash matters out across the table."
+
+"Very well," she agreed.
+
+Roger knew Chicago. When he had arranged to have his luggage put in safe
+keeping, he got a taxi and took the girl to a dull but good place, sure
+to be practically empty at that hour. They sat down at a table in a
+corner, and Sands ordered an oyster stew.
+
+"Do you dislike me?" he began his catechism. "Could you like me enough
+to think of me as a husband, if we'd met in a conventional, society sort
+of way?"
+
+"Yes, I could. I do want you to know that. You've been so splendid to
+me."
+
+"So far so good, but I haven't been splendid. I've fallen in love with
+you. I haven't been in love before ... that is, not since I was twenty.
+I've never had time...."
+
+"You haven't taken much time in doing it now!" She gave a queer little
+laugh with a sob in it.
+
+"I've learned the lesson that time isn't the thing needed. I want you
+more than I ever wanted anything in my life, and I'll take you ... as
+you stand."
+
+"You haven't stopped to think ... to count the cost," she said. "Imagine
+what it would be for a man like you to have a wife he knew nothing
+about, just a single figure cut off its background, in a picture he'd
+never seen. People would ask: 'Who was she?' and there'd be no answer."
+
+"They'd not ask me that," said Roger obstinately. "And I wouldn't care
+what they asked each other. I'm not a society man, though I might enjoy
+putting my wife on the top floor. And I can do that with you if I
+choose! You say I'm a man of importance. I'm important enough anyhow to
+take the wife I want, and to put her where I want her to be."
+
+"Yes, perhaps. But it wouldn't be only for a little while that I'd not
+be allowed to tell you about myself. It would be for always. You
+couldn't love me enough to be happy in spite of that."
+
+"I could be happy," Roger insisted, "if you'd love me."
+
+"I'd adore you! But...."
+
+"Then there isn't any 'but'. I don't say I shouldn't like to know all
+about my wife and her people and her past. Still, I'd rather have you
+with a future and no past than any other woman with both. I can't do
+without you, and I'm going to have you ... now, to-day, as soon as I can
+buy a license and get a parson to make us man and wife."
+
+"But if you should regret it?"
+
+"I never will be sorry, if you'll do what you just said, adore
+me ... half as much as I'll adore you."
+
+Her eyes gave him a beautiful answer. Roger Sands felt that nothing
+could make him regret the coming of such a romance into his hustling
+life.
+
+This, then, was the story behind the sensation when Roger Sands came
+back from a short trip to California bringing a wife, a girl who had
+been a Miss Beverley White, a girl nobody had ever seen or heard of
+before.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE MOUSE
+
+
+On the same September day, in Moreton and Payntor's department store in
+New York, might have been seen a wisp of a girl "cheeking" a manager
+into giving her a situation on the strength of her being Irish.
+
+By chance, the side door of the big Sixth Avenue shop opened for Clo
+Riley (her true, Irish, baptismal name was Clodagh, but she didn't think
+that would "go" in New York), on the day when Roger Sands' stateroom
+door, on the Santa Fe Limited, opened for a very different girl and for
+Romance. No one would have thought that they could be in the same
+story--the mysterious Vision and the little, sharp-faced thing from
+County Cork. Yet without Clo Riley it would have been another story
+altogether, even though, for more than six months, she and Mr. and Mrs.
+Roger Sands never heard each other's names, nor saw each other's faces.
+
+It was in the April after her marriage that Mrs. Sands came upon an
+advertisement in a newspaper. Moreton and Payntor were making a splash
+about their lately started department for antique furniture. They had
+obtained "eight magnificent, unique pieces of satinwood furniture
+painted by Angelica Kaufmann, bought by a representative of Moreton and
+Payntor, from a titled family in England."
+
+Beverley Sands (her husband called her "Bev") loved painted satinwood,
+when it was good. How she knew that things were good or bad, Roger
+sometimes wondered: but she did know. Roger had taken a house at Newport
+which had come into the market, and Beverley was picking up "beautiful
+pieces" with which to furnish it. The house would, they hoped, be ready
+to move into by June.
+
+When she read Moreton and Payntor's advertisement, Beverley decided to
+see the satinwood suite and buy it if genuine. Her present wealth
+emphasized her astonishing, incredible happiness. "He gives me
+everything I want, he trusts me to do everything I like," she thought.
+Life was wonderful. Slowly she was coming out from under the cloud of
+fear, and had ceased to be afraid of Something terrible that might
+happen.
+
+Roger went every morning to the offices of the firm which had his name
+at its head. She had breakfasted with him in a kind of super-dressing
+gown which Roger said was like an opal seen through a sunrise mist. As
+her maid hooked up her frock she sang for happiness. She wished she
+could earn it by making someone else happy. Roger didn't count in that
+way. The credit would be to do things for a person you didn't love.
+
+"To the first creature I meet to-day, who needs help, I'll give it," she
+said to herself. "I'll do something big ... like sacrificing on an
+altar."
+
+She went out in Roger's latest present, a limousine car, so silent and
+so swift that it travelled like a cloud-shadow. Outside the car was dark
+blue; inside, the pale azure of a robin's egg. Beverley told the
+chauffeur to drive to Moreton and Payntor's, avoiding traffic because
+she was in a hurry. To do this, he approached the shop by passing
+through a side street in which was the entrance for employees, as well
+as that leading to minor departments, and so connecting with the main
+shop. It was comparatively a quiet street, but to-day there was a crowd.
+Something had happened, and only a moment ago, for a policeman was just
+coming up. The chauffeur would have hurried by to spare Mrs. Sands what
+might be an unpleasant sight, but on one of her impulses she stopped
+him. The car windows were open. Beverley heard the words "Poor child"
+and "Ambulance." She opened the door and jumped out. Because she was
+beautiful and beautifully dressed, and had a fine car, people made way
+for her.
+
+On the pavement a girl was lying. There was some blood, and that would
+have made Beverley sick, if the face streaked red hadn't struck her as
+the most tragic, the most pathetic face she had ever seen. It was so
+ghastly white, so thin, and yet so young!
+
+"What is it? What's happened?" she inquired of the innermost group.
+
+"Chucked herself out of a fourth story window," a fat woman answered.
+"Somebody was beastly to her, I guess."
+
+"Is she dead?" Beverley asked.
+
+"Not yet ... though she must be a bag o' broken bones. She'll die on the
+way to hospital, likely, in the ambulance, with nobody to care."
+
+At that instant, as if she heard the terrible words, the girl's eyes
+opened. It seemed to Beverley that they looked straight at her.
+
+Suddenly she remembered her own resolve. It had been almost a vow: "To
+the first creature I meet to-day who needs help I'll give it."
+
+Here was the creature. If ever there were an appeal in human eyes, it
+was in these. Perhaps it was an unconscious appeal. Perhaps the brain
+had been stunned asleep, but the deep-down soul was awake. It was
+calling to Beverley's soul, and the call had to be answered, or the vow
+would be broken. Roger Sands' wife dared not break such a vow lest she
+should be punished and lose her magical happiness.
+
+She hated the sight of blood. She wanted to think that, if the girl were
+dying, she could do no good. Yet, while reason argued, instinct had
+already decided that this was the claimant of the vow. Beverley knelt
+down beside the curiously flat-looking body which lay on the pavement.
+Her dress dipped into a widening pool of blood, but she did not sicken
+as she had thought she would. And to her own surprise she found her hand
+stroking back a lock of dark red hair from the upturned face. Poor,
+thin, child's face!
+
+"Don't be afraid, you're going to be loved and cared for," she promised.
+
+By this time a doctor had arrived. He, too, knelt by the sufferer. He
+spoke to Beverley, thinking she had some acquaintance with the injured
+girl. The police had cleared away the sensation seekers, but the lovely
+lady of the blue automobile was left in peace. She seemed to be helping
+the doctor.
+
+"Keep off, please, keep off," the policemen repeated. "The ambulance'll
+be round any instant."
+
+But the ambulance did not take its cue. This was strange, for the
+service was splendidly prompt. A man ran up bringing news that there'd
+been a collision with a trolley. No one was hurt, but it meant a delay
+before another ambulance could be called and respond.
+
+"Can't we take her away in my car?" asked Beverley. "Oh, why shouldn't I
+have her at my house? She's only a child, so thin and frail! Loving care
+might save her. I'd have a trained nurse in. I'm Mrs. Roger Sands. You
+may know my husband's name."
+
+The name of Roger Sands was impressive. So was Beverley, and so was the
+car. The ambulance wasn't at hand, and time pressed. It seemed as if the
+offer might be accepted. The doctor was the physician engaged to attend
+the employees of Moreton and Payntor, and had authority in the
+neighbourhood. To test Mrs. Roger Sands' character he abruptly ordered
+her into the surgical department--"ground floor, close by the side
+street entrance"--to "fetch out a stretcher and be quick." Beverley
+responded without hesitation, and in two minutes a startled boy appeared
+with a canvas thing like a cot.
+
+The doctor and one of the policemen got the childish body on to this
+while Beverley darted to her waiting chauffeur. He--Robbins, an elderly
+Englishman--was furious, but short of giving notice then and there,
+could do nothing save obey. The folding chairs were pulled out: on one
+was piled the car's best ornament, a large chinchilla rug, and some blue
+silk cushions. These gave support for the foot of the stretcher, its
+head resting on the seat; and the other folding chair was taken by the
+doctor who, sitting there, could hold his patient safely in place. Mrs.
+Roger Sands scrambled up beside her chauffeur, and did not even notice
+that the man's face was a thundercloud.
+
+Robbins could have cried. His last situation in England had been with a
+duke. He would still have occupied it, had he not long passed the
+"smart" age. Roger Sands had thought him an excellent guardian for
+Beverley. Robbins didn't approve of America, but he had approved of his
+mistress. There had seemed to him something queenly about her which
+"reminded him of home," but to-day he was ashamed of her: to drive
+through the streets of New York sitting on the front seat beside him, as
+if she were a lady's maid! Worse than all, her dress, her gloves, were
+stained with blood. As for the inside of the new car, it would be
+ruined. The man felt responsible, and believed that his master would
+consider him so. Sitting beside Mrs. Sands, with the look of an inferior
+Roman statue on his square face, the chauffeur resolved to see Mr. Sands
+before the tale of this morning's work could be told by Sands' American
+chauffeur, who drove him to and from the office. The Englishman decided
+to bribe the American to "lend his job" that afternoon. They could
+arrange an excuse. Harter had a cold. But, as it happened, Roger Sands
+read of the affair in a second edition of an evening paper while he
+waited for his car.
+
+To see Beverley's name in big letters gave him a shock. He became
+conscious that somewhere within him had always been a horror of finding
+his wife's name in a newspaper, heading "scarelines." His first feeling
+as he read on was of relief. Why, this was nothing!
+
+Some reporter had worked up the incident into a romance, and his editor,
+appreciating Roger Sands' importance, had given it nearly a whole
+column. On the surface it was a tribute to Mrs. Sands' goodness of
+heart; but as Roger's rush of thankfulness passed, he began to see an
+unpleasant side of the business.
+
+The reporter had interviewed various persons in the firm of Moreton and
+Payntor. He had learned that the girl befriended by Mrs. Roger Sands was
+employed in the restaurant for women "assistants." By certain of these,
+she had been suspected of small thefts. They had watched her, and it was
+in the midst of a "scene" following an accusation, that the waitress had
+suddenly flung herself out of a fourth story window. She was an Irish
+girl not long in New York. Her name was Clo Riley, and she had been in
+the employ of Moreton and Payntor for nearly seven months. She had made
+no friends, and was considered "Mysterious."
+
+At the Park Avenue apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Roger Sands an interview
+had been refused; but the reporter had learned from a servant that, if
+the invalid were "a dear relative" of Mrs. Sands, she could not be more
+lovingly cared for. The largest and handsomest spare room had been
+hastily prepared, a trained nurse engaged, and a famous surgeon had been
+called in consultation with the doctor who had undertaken the case.
+Following these details came a description of Mrs. Roger Sands, gleaned
+from an "eye witness" of the "sensational scene" enacted in the street.
+
+The story developed strangely to Roger. He saw something behind it. He
+knew things about Beverley which, he trusted, few others knew, and saw
+the affair in another light.
+
+Roger's marriage experiment was a success. He was glad that he had taken
+the girl "as she stood." To have what she had called a "figure cut off
+its background out of an unseen picture," was better than to have lost
+forever a figure of such beauty. He believed that Beverley was as good
+as she was sweet, but she had been right in her prophecy; it was
+hideous, sometimes, to see her outlined against darkness.
+
+The incident had happened close to Moreton and Payntor's department
+store. Beverley had been in the habit of going there lately. She might
+have had a reason for choosing that shop. Indeed, it struck Roger as
+incredible that even her impulsiveness could lead her so far, for a
+stranger's sake. Besides, why hadn't she telephoned? It looked as if she
+were determined to carry out her scheme before he could oppose it.
+
+In this mood he went to his automobile. He was surprised to see Robbins,
+but not sorry, because Robbins had been mixed up in the morning's
+affair.
+
+"What's this I've been reading in the _Evening Star_?" he broke in.
+
+Here was luck for Robbins! He began to excuse himself for the disgrace
+which had fallen upon the new car. "It was the mistress's order, sir,
+and I had no choice; but I can't help thinking if she'd known what a
+mess the blood would make, she'd 'ave let me call a taxi."
+
+"Another lining is easily put in," said Roger, coolly; but he was angry
+for the first time with Beverley. Of all women, she was the one who
+ought to think twice before doing a thing to get herself talked about;
+but she never thought twice. As he drove homeward, doubts of her crowded
+into his mind.
+
+At home, Beverley was in the room which had been turned into a hospital
+ward. The nurse had called her, to announce that the "patient" had
+returned to consciousness and had begun asking questions.
+
+"I saw it would worry her to be put off," went on Sister Lake, "so I
+told her a few things. She remembered throwing herself out of the
+window, and the fall, and then waking up, lying in the street. She said
+she'd dreamed of an angel-girl bending over her. When she heard what
+you'd done, she insisted on speaking to you."
+
+"I'll go at once!" Beverley exclaimed.
+
+"Just for a few minutes," the nurse hinted.
+
+Beverley let herself be led in. The room looked strange to her. The
+servants, directed by the doctor, and later by the trained nurse, had
+swiftly, noiselessly made the changes before the girl came back to
+herself. The curtains had been taken down, and rugs cleared away from
+the parquet floor. Most of the furniture had disappeared, and on a glass
+table were a number of bottles. The bed faced the door, and as Mrs.
+Sands softly entered a pair of eyes looked at her. Beverley's heart
+jumped as her eyes met them. She had not known how immense and dark they
+were, or that they were beautiful.
+
+The nurse drew Mrs. Sands near to the bed, and issued her orders before
+the girl could open her lips.
+
+"Neither of you must talk much," she commanded. "Mrs. Sands has come to
+let you see that she exists, and you can thank her if you like, but she
+mustn't stay many minutes."
+
+"Sister Lake is right," said Beverley. "You mustn't excite yourself.
+You're going to get well; and this is your home."
+
+"I'm not excited," the girl answered, in a low, monotonous voice, hardly
+above a whisper. "But I had to see you, and tell you this one thing. I
+didn't want to live, because ... I was miserable, and everyone hated me;
+still, it seemed awful to die. You saved me. I wish to live now, if only
+to show you what gratitude can be. I expect you're awfully rich. I'm
+poorer than any church mouse. It doesn't look as if I could do anything
+for one like you. But who knows? There was a mouse once helped a lion.
+It gnawed a hole in a net. I feel as if the time must come when I can do
+as much, because I want to so dreadfully. That's all!"
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+THE MURMUR OF THE STORM
+
+
+It seemed that everything were to go wrong with Roger Sands that day. He
+had felt for the last few months that a cloud had risen between him and
+John Heron, whose cause he had won in California. If ever a business man
+owed a debt of gratitude to the brains of another, John Heron owed such
+a debt to Roger Sands, who had risked not only his reputation, but even
+his life against the powerful enemies of the alleged "California Oil
+Trust King." Heron had appeared fully to appreciate this; and before
+Roger left for New York had been almost oppressively cordial, begging in
+vain that Roger would visit him and his wife, a famous beauty with
+Spanish blood in her veins. He had written once, immediately after
+Sands' departure, and had telegraphed congratulations on reading the
+news of Roger's marriage. But the friendly reply had remained
+unacknowledged. The wedding present of a gold tea service had been
+accompanied by no letter, only a card with the names of "Mr. and Mrs.
+John Heron." With Sands' thanks the correspondence ended.... This had
+vexed Roger, who liked Heron and was not used to being slighted. The
+only thing he could think of was Beverley's failure to enclose a note to
+Mrs. Heron in his letter of thanks. She had argued that the present was
+for him, really, and that if she wrote Mrs. Heron it would look
+"pushing."
+
+Roger let the matter slide, and had written in his wife's name and his
+own. At last he read in some newspaper that "Mr. and Mrs. John Heron
+intended shortly to start for the east, where they would spend the
+summer." Without waiting to consult Beverley he wrote, saying he had
+read the news, and he and his wife hoped for a visit in their Newport
+house as soon as it was ready. He had written, not from the office, but
+from home, with the Park Avenue address on the paper. To-day, as he
+entered his study, his eye lit on an envelope with John Heron's writing
+upon it.
+
+The letter lay on the top of others on his desk, and instead of going to
+find Beverley at once, as was his lover's custom, he sat down to read
+his correspondence.
+
+The first letter he opened was Heron's, which consisted of a few lines
+on one page. Roger's eyes took in the whole at a glance.
+
+     DEAR MR. SANDS:
+
+     My wife and I are obliged to you for your kind invitation, but
+     owing to the fact that we have already made a great number of
+     engagements I fear we shall be unable to give ourselves the
+     pleasure of accepting.
+
+     Yours truly,
+     JOHN HERON.
+
+The blood rushed to Roger's forehead. He realized that this was a
+deliberate insult.
+
+The last letter had begun "Dear Sands," and had been signed "Yours
+gratefully ever." Roger was even more furious than mystified. "Next time
+he wants me to pull him out of a death trap, he can whistle for his
+pains!"
+
+At that instant Beverley tapped at the door, and half opened it to peep
+in.
+
+This irritated Roger. He had told her from the first that she need not
+knock at his study door.
+
+"How often have I begged you not to knock?" he broke out at her. "Come
+in if you want to."
+
+It was the first time he had ever spoken crossly. Beverley started, and
+the look on her face, instead of overwhelming Roger with remorse,
+hardened him.
+
+Beverley's colour had been bright, but she turned pale as Roger flung at
+her his scolding words. Seeing the letter in her husband's hand the
+blood streamed back to her cheeks. If she could possibly have known and
+recognized Heron's writing, it might have seemed that the sight of it
+had struck her with fear. But no such far-fetched thought occurred to
+her husband.
+
+"I--I'm sorry!" she said hastily. "I heard your voice--I supposed
+someone was with you----"
+
+Roger forgot that he had spoken aloud. In silence he let the girl cross
+the floor and sit down in the easy chair she called "hers." She dropped
+into it as if her knees had given way, and looked at Roger. When he did
+not speak, she could bear the suspense no longer.
+
+"You--you're reading a letter--I interrupted you?"
+
+"The letter's of no importance," said Roger, throwing it upon the desk.
+"It's only from John Heron to tell me that he and his wife won't be able
+to come and see us at Newport. One would suppose by his tone that he was
+offended. Probably Mrs. Heron expected you to gush over the wedding
+present, and has put him up to snubbing me because you didn't."
+
+"You asked the Herons to visit us? I--didn't know----"
+
+"I did ask them," Roger cut her short. "I heard they were coming East."
+
+"Oh, Roger, I couldn't have met them! If they'd accepted I should have
+had to be ill, or--or go away!" Beverley exclaimed on one of her
+impulses, which instantly she appeared to regret. "I'm glad you don't
+like Mr. Heron's letter, because--you'll never ask them again! I haven't
+done anything to annoy you, have I?"
+
+"You know best whether you have or not."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Is it necessary to ask? I came home intending not to question you. But
+I must make one comment: you're surprised that I invite a friend to
+visit us without consulting you. That seems inconsistent with what
+you've done. I've read the evening paper, and----"
+
+"Oh, Roger! It's in the paper ... about that poor child and me?"
+
+"Naturally! You and I aren't nonentities."
+
+"You don't think I did wrong?"
+
+"Wrong's a big word. You've done something foolish, and inconsiderate to
+me."
+
+"What harm can the child do to you?"
+
+"That depends upon what sort of 'child' she is! Perhaps you can give me
+a better account of her than the _Evening Star_ gives!"
+
+"I can't give you any," said Beverley, in a trembling voice, "except
+that she was the most pitiful thing I ever saw ... so young and
+desperate, lying in pools of blood."
+
+"Which pools of blood you transferred to your new motor car, my present,
+that I thought you valued."
+
+"Roger! What did the motor matter, compared with saving a life?"
+
+"Saving a life wasn't in question. An ambulance would have been on the
+spot in a minute to take the girl to a hospital."
+
+"She wouldn't have had love in a hospital. I felt it was for lack of
+love she'd tried to kill herself...."
+
+"A girl who steals her companions' money can't expect to have their
+love...."
+
+"Oh! So that's what the newspaper says? I don't believe she stole. Wait
+till you see the poor little thing, Roger."
+
+"I don't want to see her. Now she's here, she'll have to stay till she
+dies, or can be safely moved. I've no wish to be cruel. But when she can
+go, I want her to do so. I don't mind giving...."
+
+"You do mind giving faith and sympathy!" Beverley burst out. "Why should
+you take me on faith, and refuse it to another? You knew nothing about
+me ... I know nothing about this child...."
+
+"Ah, you're sure you know nothing about her!" His tone was bitter.
+
+"What could I know?" she echoed. "I brought her straight home, and she
+hasn't been able to talk ... except a few words."
+
+"It occurred to me as rather odd you should do so much for a complete
+stranger."
+
+"Oh, I see! You think I knew her ... before?"
+
+"I thought it possible. Her name put the idea into my head. I heard you
+say it once ... in your ... sleep ... Riley ... or something like that."
+
+For the third time Beverley blushed, one of her fatal, agonized blushes.
+The rush of blood forced tears to her eyes; and a certain strained look
+in them, a quivering of the lips, brought back to Roger's mind a picture
+of her in the train. That was the first time he had seen her blush. She
+had said--he remembered well--"You are the only man I'm interested in,"
+and had blushed furiously. He had been sure then that she was no
+adventuress. She had looked like a frightened child, and she looked like
+one now. With that picture of the girl in the train came back another
+recollection. She had asked if any man had inquired for her, or if any
+"noticeable" person had sought his acquaintance. He had replied that
+he'd not spoken with a soul except a man he knew slightly, a Congressman
+from California named O'Reilly. He supposed that O'Reilly didn't
+interest her? Upon this, with a desperate blush, she had made her
+startlingly frank reply.
+
+As this came back, Roger's heart was no longer soft. What a fool he had
+been, that day in the train, not to connect the girl's change of colour
+with his mention of O'Reilly! She might have blurted out her compliment
+to excuse the blush, instead of the blush having followed the
+compliment. Good heavens! could Justin O'Reilly have been the man from
+whom she wished to hide?
+
+"Perhaps the name you spoke in your sleep was O'Reilly!" he flung at his
+wife.
+
+Beverley gathered herself together.
+
+"So all this time," she said, "you have been suspicious of me! And I was
+so happy. I thought you were happy, too, but it's just as I was afraid
+it would be, if I married you. You can't endure the strain!"
+
+"I have endured the strain," Roger defended himself; "because I loved
+you as few men have ever loved, but the question is, have you deserved
+it all?"
+
+"This is the moment I felt must come!" she said. "If I had only myself
+to think of, don't you know I'd have told you everything? I warned you
+how it would be ... how I should have to keep the secret not for a
+little while, but for always! If you don't believe, if you think I lied
+when I said no man had ever been anything to me ... if you think I lie
+now, when I say I never saw or heard of this girl till I found her in
+the street.... I can go out of your life.... I can go to-day!"
+
+As she spoke slowly, sentence by sentence, with a sobbing breath
+between, Beverley looked straight into her husband's eyes. Hers did not
+falter though they swam in tears. With her last words, she rose and
+stood facing him as he sat at his desk.
+
+Roger gave her back gaze for gaze, as if he would read her secret
+written in cypher on her soul. He saw that she meant what she said. A
+word from him, and their experiment was at an end. She would go. It
+seemed to him that never had her beauty been so gentle, so womanly.
+
+"You shan't go!" he cried, springing to his feet. "I can't give you up!"
+
+But she held him off.
+
+"No!" she panted. "I won't stay if you want me only in that way--because
+you have a kind of love for me, whether you believe in me or not. I love
+you too much to be shamed by you! Either you trust me, or you don't. Say
+which it is, and I'll stay, or go."
+
+"I've got to trust you! I do!" The words seemed to burst from him. "You
+know I love you more than all the world. It would kill me to lose you."
+
+"I'd rather die from the shock of losing you, Roger, than from such a
+hateful pain, going on and on----"
+
+"It shan't go on," he said. "I've been happy, too. I'm a changed man
+since the hour I saw you and loved you. It's only to-day I've been
+wretched. Forgive me, Bev--and God forgive you if----"
+
+"There's an 'if' for you?"
+
+"No--no, there's no 'if' any more. You're to forgive me----that's all!"
+
+"Oh, I do! The hard thing would be not to forgive. But--can we go on
+being happy again, just as if nothing had happened?"
+
+"Of course we can, silly child. Nothing has happened." Roger had her in
+his arms now. He kissed her over and over again, till she gasped for
+breath. "This has only cleared the air. As for that beastly child, I
+don't care if she's a murderess. Keep her forever, if you choose. Train
+her as your maid----"
+
+"But she's not 'beastly!' And she's not the kind to have for a maid. I
+think she's a lady. She seems----"
+
+"Well, do whatever you like with her. Can I go further, to show you I
+want to atone?"
+
+"No, you can't, Roger----" Beverley nestled her face into his neck. "I
+adore you!"
+
+She closed her eyes, but opening them she happened, looking over Roger's
+shoulder, to see John Heron's letter on her husband's desk. A faint
+shiver ran through her body, and Roger felt it.
+
+"What's the matter, my darling?" he asked.
+
+"Nothing!" she answered. "A mouse ran over my grave."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+ON THE WAY TO THE CAR
+
+
+Beverley found that she could "be happy again, as if nothing had
+happened" between her and Roger. For one thing, it was wonderful to feel
+that she had the power to "save" a fellow-being, and wonderful to be
+worshipped as Clo worshipped her. Of course, Roger "worshipped" her,
+too, but it was Beverley who looked up to him. Clo looked up to her.
+When Beverley went into the room presided over by Sister Lake, the
+child's great black eyes dwelt upon her as the eyes of a devotee upon
+the form of a goddess "come alive." Roger Sands' wife felt simply that
+she was repaying God for saving her, by what she was able to do for this
+Irish girl.
+
+As soon as Clo was allowed to talk she insisted upon telling Beverley
+about herself. There was, apparently, no romance or mystery in the story
+of her eighteen years of life. Her mother had died when she was less
+than three, but Clo could "remember her perfectly." It wasn't only the
+photograph she had (a badly taken one of a young woman with a baby in
+her arms), but she could see her mother's colouring. Oh, such lovely
+colouring! Not dark red hair, like her own, but gold, and eyes more
+brown than gray. And mother had been only twenty-four when she died. Clo
+had to admit that most of what she knew of mother was from the Sisters
+who looked after the orphans. Yes, it was in an orphan asylum that the
+child had been brought up. About father she knew nothing, except that
+mother had "lost" him before her baby was born, and that he "came from
+America." Evidently his name had been Riley, because mother was Mrs.
+Riley, and Clo was Clodagh because "that was a name in mother's family."
+
+The Sisters had been particularly kind. Mother had given Clo into their
+care, because she lodged, and had fallen ill, in the street of the
+orphan asylum. There had been a little money, which was placed in a bank
+for the child. The Sisters had known that mother was a lady; but the
+orphan girls, when they grew up, were supposed to be put into service.
+Neither Clo nor the Sisters had wanted her to be a servant, and when she
+was sixteen a situation was found for her as "companion" to an old lady.
+Clo "stuck it out" for nearly two years. Then she ran away and sailed
+for the United States, her unknown father's land, with the sixty pounds
+which was her fortune. This money was all spent, and she was nearly
+starving when she snatched at what she could get with Moreton and
+Payntor.
+
+"But I just couldn't eat and dress on my wages," Clo explained, in her
+soft, rich voice, rather deep for so young and small a girl, and made
+creamy by a touch of Irish brogue. "One has to do both in New York. I
+was so hungry all the time, if the girls left a crust on their plates I
+used to hide it. I expect the way I'd look to see if there'd be anything
+left gave them the idea I was a sly piece. They thought I put on airs,
+too. Me! P'raps it was my not knowing their kind of slang. And it's true
+I did steal once, or almost the same thing as steal. There was a dollar
+bill on the floor under a table one afternoon. 'Stead of trying to find
+who was the owner, I slipped it inside my dress. I must have been nearly
+off my head, or I'd never have done it, darling Mrs. Sands! When the
+time came to go home to my room that night, I didn't go. I went to a
+restaurant, and I ate. I ate a whole dollar's worth of dinner, just so I
+couldn't give any money back if I changed my mind next day. Well, next
+day was the day you know of. And what with knowing I was a thief, and
+the girls knowing it, too--though there was no proof--I thought the best
+thing for a lost child was to die!"
+
+Beverley had by this time "made everything right" for Clo at Moreton and
+Payntor's. Indeed, Mrs. Roger Sands having taken her up, she had become
+quite a classic figure of romance among her late enemies. When Beverley
+told the girl that when she got well she wouldn't have to go, but could
+stop and be "a sort of secretary," Clo Riley almost had a relapse from
+the shock of joy.
+
+By the end of May Clo's broken ribs had mended. The first day when she
+was up and dressed, able to go downstairs, and out for a spin in the
+renovated blue car, she was a very different looking girl from the
+battered wisp of humanity whose blood had stained the "robin's-egg"
+cloth and silk.
+
+It was Sunday, and Clo was burning with excitement. She was to meet her
+Angel's husband for the first time. She had pictured him a dragon. The
+Angel loved him, but the Angel was such a saint, and would love any old
+husband. Clo imagined that Beverley had been poor (she must have known
+poverty to be so sympathetic!) and that she'd married an elderly man
+because--well, not entirely because he was rich (that wouldn't be like
+an Angel) but because she needed protection. Clo expected to see a
+grumpy graybeard.
+
+Roger expected to see a washed-out invalid of indefinite type, a young
+woman of the shabbiest shop-girl order.
+
+What Clodagh saw, when she followed Mrs. Sands into the study, was a
+strong, dark man, not old at all, apparently, and almost interesting
+enough in looks to be worthy of the Angel. Still, she was not sure she
+was going to like him.
+
+What Roger saw was a small, slender girl, too childish, too impish, to
+think of as a "young woman." She had a little oval face with a pointed
+chin. It was pale, but not washed-out, and her lips were red. An
+obstinate, impudent mouth, Roger thought. As for her eyes--he had never
+seen such great eyes in a human face. They were like holes in a blanket,
+so big, so black, as they stared up at him. She had curly auburn hair,
+that looked even redder than it was, in contrast with her eyes. But
+though the face was impish, not pretty precisely, with its high cheek
+bones and impertinent chin, he had to admit that it was noticeable, and,
+in some odd way, attractive. The girl was charmingly dressed. He might
+have known that Bev would see to that. Clo was a surprise to him, as he
+was to her. Each saw that the other was a distinct and interesting
+personality; and Roger realized that Beverley was right; the girl had
+the air of being a lady. There was something else about her, too, which
+piqued him. He could not make out what it was. Did she look like someone
+he knew?
+
+He was polite, as he had promised to be, and called Clo "Miss Riley."
+When Beverley said that they were going out for the invalid's first
+drive, Roger replied that he was glad; but Clo, catching his eye,
+fancied she saw a sarcastic gleam.
+
+"He's thinking of the time I came here in that same car," she told
+herself. "I know I must have spoilt it--got it all messed up with blood.
+Probably he had to give a lot for doing it over. And my goodness, the
+dollars of his that Angel has been pouring out for me every day since!
+No wonder he looks sick! But some day I shall pay. I don't know how,
+only I shall--I shall!"
+
+Beverley and Clo went down in the gorgeously decorated elevator.
+
+"If Angel lived in a garret, it would be a palace to me," she reflected.
+
+A hall porter opened the door of carved bronze over glass. Without
+seeming to look, he took in every detail of the slim figure in white
+cloth; the small white hat tilted over the dark red hair, the tiny white
+shoes, the dainty ankles in silk stockings. Clo could have laughed
+aloud. Of course, the giant in livery knew the whole story. He was
+contrasting the way she came out with the way she had come in.
+
+Drawn up at the pavement was the glittering blue automobile, with the
+statuesque Robbins at the wheel. Clo remembered both, with a queer, sick
+pang. She had not been wholly unconscious when the stretcher was pushed
+into the car. "What I owe this darling woman!" was the thought she
+breathed like a prayer.
+
+As the two crossed the pavement--tall, beautiful Beverley and quaint
+little Clo--a man who must have been loitering close by started toward
+them with a limping step, and took off his hat.
+
+"Is this Mrs. Roger Sands?" he asked.
+
+Beverley stopped short, within a yard of her car. For such a graceful,
+softly moving person, her movement seemed jerky. Clo glanced from the
+man to Mrs. Sands in surprise. One would say the Angel looked
+frightened, only that would be absurd! Besides, the man wasn't a
+creature worth being afraid of. He was short, and very thin, as if he
+had been ill. He hadn't a nice face. Sallow and sickly it was, like a
+prison bird, with hollows under the red-rimmed eyes. He was badly lame,
+too, if he wasn't pretending; and altogether, in spite of her newly
+mended ribs, Clo felt that she herself would be equal to knocking him
+down.
+
+"Yes, I am Mrs. Sands," Beverley answered, as if against her will. "I
+don't--but perhaps someone has sent you with a message?"
+
+"In a way, yes, that's it," said the man. "I had a message for you. I'm
+the man sent to meet you in Chicago, September 21st of last year."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+THE PARCEL WITH THE GOLD SEALS
+
+
+There was a second of suspense for Clo, and then Beverley spoke quietly:
+
+"Oh, I see! That's very interesting," she said. "I hope--the news is
+good?"
+
+"It's a long message," the man answered. "I was told to let you have it
+in person. I thought you'd be goin' out sooner or later. If your husban'
+'ad bin along, I'd have left a line, but----"
+
+"Never mind what you would have done, please," Beverley cut him short.
+"The best thing I can think of now, is this" (she hurried on in a low
+tone, and Clo who had stepped aside, nearer to the car, did not catch
+the words), "Take a taxi, and follow my automobile. We're going into the
+Park. When you see us stop, you must stop too, at a distance.
+
+"I shall get out and let the motor, with my friend in it, go on without
+me for a while. Then we can talk. Do you understand?"
+
+"I'll be there," said the man.
+
+He touched his hat and moved away, as if his errand were done.
+
+"Drive slowly through the Park," Beverley instructed Robbins, and gently
+made Clo get into the car before her. "I'm so sorry to have kept you
+standing, dear," she said. "I hope you don't feel weak or 'tottery'?"
+
+Clo did feel very weak, not from fatigue, but from excitement. She
+replied that she felt "grand." And Mrs. Sands forgot to say that she was
+glad.
+
+The girl glanced at the older woman, and saw that she was staring
+straight ahead, with a withdrawn look in her eyes, which told that she
+saw nothing. Clo's heart beat fast. This drive was to have been a
+glorious experience. She had seen Central Park more than once, and had
+walked there, miserable in her loneliness. Now, though she looked out of
+the window, it was to let Beverley feel that she was not being stared
+at. The girl saw only a blur of colour, as if a kaleidoscope turned
+before her eyes.
+
+At last Beverley spoke.
+
+"Dear child," she said, "I'm sure you understand that the man who was
+waiting for me brought a message I'm anxious to hear. And--I'm sure of
+another thing--that I can trust you!"
+
+"I'd die any minute for you, sure I would!" she cried.
+
+"I believe you would! But I don't want you to die. All I want is for you
+to listen while I explain----"
+
+"As if you needed to explain to me!" the girl broke out.
+
+"I don't need to, perhaps, yet I wish to say just this: I love Roger
+dearly. I've told you so often enough! I'd give anything on earth not to
+have a secret from him. But to save a life--not my own--there is a
+secret I must keep. This man and his message are part of it. Now, that's
+all I'm going to explain, except that--that nothing must be said."
+
+"I'd bite my tongue out sooner!" Clo protested.
+
+"Thank you, dear! Now we've had this talk, it's a comfort, not a worry,
+having you with me. You won't mind if I send you on while I get down and
+walk in the Park?"
+
+"I'd love it!" said Clo.
+
+At once Beverley took the speaking tube and ordered the chauffeur to
+stop. He drew up at the side of the road. They were in the midst of the
+Park now, an exquisite green and gold world of peace and beauty.
+
+"I feel like taking a little exercise," Beverley said to Robbins, as she
+stepped out of the car. "Miss Riley isn't strong enough to walk. Go as
+far along Riverside Drive as Grant's Tomb, and then come back, but
+slowly, so she can see everything. You'll find me waiting here."
+
+It seemed that Robbins carried out his instructions too laboriously. Clo
+didn't like the ferret-man, and she didn't believe that Beverley liked
+meeting him.
+
+When at last Robbins brought the car back to the rendezvous there was
+the tall graceful figure in gray, standing alone.
+
+"Oh, have we kept you?" the girl cried, throwing open the door before
+the automobile stopped.
+
+Beverley did not answer, or seem to hear. She did not even look at Clo.
+
+"Home!" she said to Robbins. "As fast as you can!"
+
+Clo was shocked into silence, and hardly breathed when Beverley had sunk
+on to the seat, covering her face with her hands. The car had nearly
+reached the Sands' corner of Park Avenue before the elder girl spoke.
+Then she said abruptly, as if waking from a dream:
+
+"Forgive me! I couldn't talk! I'm in dreadful trouble! I must ask you to
+help me. Are you strong enough to take a longer drive, and to walk a few
+steps alone?"
+
+"Rather!" said Clo.
+
+"Well, when we stop in front of our house, sit still in the car. I don't
+want Sister Lake or Roger to know we're back. I'll run in, get a parcel
+which must be taken to a certain place, and give it to you. Then Robbins
+will drive (I'll tell him) to a hotel on Broadway, called the
+Westmorland. I never heard of it before, but it seems that it's near 33d
+Street, and quiet and respectable. Go into the restaurant and order tea.
+While you're there, that man you saw will come into the room, and you'll
+hand him the packet. That's all."
+
+"It sounds too easy," Clo said.
+
+"I hope it will be easy. I'll bring you a latch-key when I come down
+with the parcel. Let yourself in when you get home, and go straight to
+your room. I don't want you to fib, but try to make it seem to Sister as
+if we'd just come back. She'll think it strange if she knows I've sent
+you out on an errand by yourself."
+
+"She shan't know," the girl promised.
+
+"You _are_ a comfort! You see, I told Roger I'd be at home by four, and
+I couldn't be, till long after if I took the parcel myself. I shall only
+just be in time as it is. Here we are at the door! Now I'll rush. In
+five minutes I hope to be with you again. Oh, if only Sister Lake isn't
+at the window!"
+
+The five minutes passed, and Beverley didn't return. Clo watched the
+silver-gilt clock under the vase of violets. Ten minutes; fifteen
+minutes; no Mrs. Sands! The girl was wondering whether she ought to wait
+indefinitely, or seek her friend to see what had happened when Beverley
+appeared. She was breathless with haste.
+
+"Here, take this, and do just as I told you to do," she said, thrusting
+into Clo's hands a bag, not a parcel. "Inside you'll find what I spoke
+of, and money to pay for your tea. I had to hide the parcel. I can't
+stop to explain more now." She turned to the chauffeur, and hastily
+ordered him to drive to the Westmorland Hotel. Miss Riley had to meet a
+friend there; Robbins must wait till she was ready to come home.
+
+Only as the car slowed down in front of the third-rate hotel did Clo
+touch the hasp of the gray suede bag. It was not locked, and save for a
+crumpled dollar bill, its sole contents was a large, unaddressed
+envelope fastened with three gold seals. On each of these seals was the
+same elaborate monogram, which Clo did not try to make out; but it was
+not composed of Beverley Sands' initials. Evidently the parcel had been
+crammed into the first handy receptacle, for it was all but too big to
+go in, and Clo found it difficult to extract without damaging the seals.
+Leaving the bag on the seat, she hid the envelope under the smart, white
+cloth cape which went with her new frock.
+
+The restaurant of the hotel opened off the hall. At that hour, a little
+after four o'clock, there was no one in the room but a waiter. Afternoon
+tea was evidently not a daily custom of the Westmorland's guests, but
+when it was brought at length, the ferret-man had not yet arrived.
+
+"Oh, dear, what shall I do if he doesn't come?" Clodagh asked herself,
+thinking fearfully about the chauffeur--and about Sister Lake.
+
+Just then the face of the ferret man appeared at the door. He glanced
+about, fixed the girl with his red-rimmed eyes, slouched into the room,
+and limped briskly to the table.
+
+"Hello!" he exclaimed, with a familiar grin, and pulled out a chair to
+sit opposite Clo. He kept on his hat. His breath reeked spirits, and the
+girl was disgusted, but she was the faithful servant of Mrs. Sands, and
+the waiter was staring.
+
+"Here's the parcel Mrs. Sands sent. She particularly wanted me to get
+back as soon as possible."
+
+The long envelope, with the gold seals uppermost, was lying on the
+table. Clo removed a napkin she had laid over it, and pushed the parcel
+across the table. As she did this she rose.
+
+"Looks right enough!" remarked the ferret man, sitting still. "This
+is what she told me to expect: long white envelope, three gold
+seals----" He picked the parcel up, holding it to his sharp nose and
+near-sighted eyes. "Yeh, munergram, or what yuh call it, right, too."
+
+"Then that's all," said Clo, Beverley's dollar bill in her hand. "I'll
+call the waiter----"
+
+"Don't be too previous, cutie, _if_ you please!" and a not immaculate
+hand helped itself to a fold of her dress. "Yuh an' me ain't workin'
+this show on our own. You're for Mrs. Sands, I'm fur--well, I'm fur
+someone I guess is even more particular than her. It's as much as my
+job's worth to let yuh make your get-away till I've had a squint inside
+this yere envelup."
+
+"Mrs. Sands didn't tell me there was anything to wait for after I'd put
+it in your hands," Clo objected. "I don't see----"
+
+"It's me that's got to see. Now yuh keep yer hair on, gurlie, while I
+lamp this thing. No good tryin' the sneak game, because I'd be on to yuh
+like a thousand o' brick before yuh'd took a step----"
+
+"I've no intention of running away," Clo assured him, with a dignity
+copied from her idol. "Mrs. Sands has nothing to hide."
+
+The man chuckled, as with a knife taken from the table he opened the
+envelope without breaking the seals. He did this slowly. Clo sat down
+again.
+
+The ugly hands drew out from the envelope another smaller envelope.
+There were no seals on it, but the flap was stuck with gum. The man
+swore under his breath as he used the knife again. Clo was deeply
+interested. Her idea was that the fellow would pull out a quantity of
+greenbacks; but in an instant she saw that she had guessed wrong. There
+were many sheets of paper folded together, at least a dozen, and this
+seemed to astound the man. With a jerk he opened out the sheaf of
+papers, and having stared an instant, slammed them on to the table.
+"Curse her, she thought she'd do us, did she?" The words tumbled out
+between his brown, broken teeth, as he dashed his fist on to the papers.
+"So this is why she sent you--you catspaw!"
+
+Clo was far from being a coward. Her hot, defiant temper rose at the
+least alarm, but she was so amazed at the result of her errand that she
+was struck dumb. Mechanically her eyes had turned to the papers. She saw
+that the upper sheets consisted of blank stationery taken from a train,
+the Santa Fe Limited.
+
+"If you're trying to scare me, you can't," she said. "You're acting like
+a fool. If something's gone wrong in your business, it isn't my fault,
+and I'm sure it isn't Mrs. Sands. If there's a trick, she's tricked,
+too. Try to have common sense."
+
+The girl's fearless gaze and quickly spoken words calmed the man.
+
+"It's darned rot to say my lady who stayed at home ain't in the trick.
+Why, dumbhead, this paper shows! She was on board the Limited. Gee!
+Don't I have cause to know that? It's easy as slidin' off a log to see
+what she done. She helped herself to what was in this yere envelope, an'
+filled it with train stationery. Then she sealed it up with the same
+kind o' seals. Stole the stamp and wax on purpose. Thought she could get
+away with it. I take off my hat to her."
+
+"I know nothing except that I agreed to bring the parcel," said Clo.
+
+"You go back to her ladyship as fast as you can scamper, and tell her I
+wasn't soft enough to bow myself off the stage without peepin' at what
+Santa Claus had put in my stockin'. Tell her 'twould only o' bin a
+matter o' time if I hadn't peeped. As it is, it's a matter o' less time.
+Tell her a life will pay for this, and she jolly well knows whose!"
+
+The man had ceased to bluster, and now that he had got himself in hand
+again his fierce eyes and his low, hissing voice thrilled the girl as
+his threats had not thrilled her. This time he allowed her to rise,
+which she did, tottering slightly. She had forgotten about paying for
+her tea, but the dollar bill lay in a crumpled wad on the table. The man
+placed one of his oddly repulsive hands over it.
+
+"I'll see to the waiter," he said. "I'm stayin' in this hotel. You cut
+along and tell your lady friend she's got till ten o'clock to-night to
+explain herself, not a minute more. Good day to you, Miss Baby Doll!"
+
+Without answering, Clo walked out of the room, ashamed that her knees
+were weak, and hoping that she could get safely to the car without
+making a fool of herself. Physically, it was a great relief to lie back
+against the soft cushions of robin's egg blue, and shut her eyes. What
+would Angel do when she heard how dreadfully the errand had failed?
+
+Clo had forgotten the difficulty of making Sister Lake believe, without
+a fib, that she and Mrs. Sands had only just come in from their drive
+together. But she remembered as she went up in the elevator. It was very
+late now--long after five. Sister was sure to be cross; but if she were
+cross only with Clo, and not Mrs. Sands, that wouldn't matter.
+
+Few things work out according to expectations. Sister Lake had been at
+the window, it seemed, when the car brought back Mrs. Sands and Clo
+before four o'clock, and had been alarmed when the former descended to
+hurry alone into the house.
+
+"I was afraid you'd fainted," she said when Clo arrived at last. "I flew
+out of this room to go down in the elevator, and bumped into Mr. Sands
+in the hall, and while I was apologizing and making him understand she
+appeared on the scene."
+
+"My goodness, the fat _is_ in the fire!" Clo thought desperately. Aloud
+she said: "Well?"
+
+"She said you wanted to go to tea with someone, and she was hurrying to
+her room to get money for you, so that you could stand treat. I
+objected, as I had a right to do," went on Sister Lake. "You're still my
+patient, if my time is up to-morrow. And if you have a relapse I shall
+be in a nice fix, as I'm due at Mrs. Jardine's Tuesday morning! Mrs.
+Sands really acted very queer, she was so determined you should go. Even
+when her husband backed me up, she was as obstinate as--as--if she
+wasn't such a sweet woman, I should say a pig!"
+
+"It was my fault," pleaded Clo. "I'm not tired a bit." Yet as she
+argued, a voice was saying inside her head: "No wonder the poor darling
+was a long time coming down with the parcel!"
+
+But this, though exciting enough, was as naught beside the great
+question: "What would Beverley say, what would she feel, when Clo had to
+confess all that had happened at the Hotel Westmorland?"
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE QUEEN'S PEARLS
+
+
+Roger also had a secret that Sunday. He waited for Beverley and Clo to
+be gone (reminding his wife that she had promised to be back by four)
+and then called up the Belmont Hotel by telephone.
+
+"Give me Count Lovoresco's room," he said, and presently a foreign
+conception of the word "Hello!" rumbled through the receiver.
+
+"Hello, Count," Roger replied, recognizing the voice. "My wife's safely
+off. I'll send my own car round at once. Now you've got the letter of
+confirmation we can settle our business. What? You're ready? Thank you.
+My man'll be at the hotel as soon as you can get down. Good-bye."
+
+Fifteen minutes later a dark, dapper, elderly man with magnificent eyes
+was ushered into Roger's study.
+
+"You've brought the pearls, of course?" Roger asked.
+
+"Yes, Mistaire Sand, I bring ze pearls," announced Count Lovoresco.
+
+"And the letter from the Queen?"
+
+"From 'er Majesty's secretaire," Count Lovoresco corrected. "'Ere it
+is." He drew from a breast pocket a square envelope with a crown and a
+monogram on the flap. This he handed to Sands, and as the latter opened
+it, he took from another pocket a purple velvet box, oval in shape,
+about eight inches long by two in height. On the cover appeared a gold
+crown, and the same monogram as that of the envelope. Roger had seen
+this box and its contents; so, instead of watching a tiny gold key
+fitted into a miniature padlock, he read the letter authorizing Count
+Lovoresco, in the name of his Queen, to sell in America a rope of
+pearls, for the benefit of the soldiers' orphans of her country.
+
+"This clears the deck," remarked Roger. The cover of the oval box was
+raised, and lying in a series of concentric grooves he saw the pearls
+which he intended to buy for Beverley. They were two hundred and fifty
+in number, as he knew, and were graduated in size, the largest being as
+big as a giant pea. All were exquisitely matched in shape and colour,
+and the one fault--if fault existed--was a blue whiteness disliked by
+some connoisseurs. Roger was aware, however, that Beverley loved
+snow-white pearls.
+
+"Any minute Simon Lecourt may be here," he said to Lovoresco. "When he's
+looked at the things, I'll sign and hand you my cheque for two hundred
+and sixty thousand dollars."
+
+Lovoresco smiled under his dyed moustache, but the wonderful eyes, for
+which men of his race are famous, lit angrily.
+
+"You are ze most prudent of gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "Your great
+Franco-American pearl expert, 'e 'as valued ze pearls one time already
+at 'is own place, under your eye, Mistaire Sand. Now 'e 'as to come to
+your 'ouse! Mazette! But you must tink me a smart one, saire, if I could
+change false tings for real in ze last minute!"
+
+"I think some other smart men might have changed them without you or me
+being smart enough to know the difference," Roger explained. "I believe
+in making a ship watertight before she goes to sea."
+
+"You are right," Lovoresco said, shrugging his shoulders. "I am pleased
+once more to meet ze expert."
+
+"Mr. Simon Lecourt," announced the butler.
+
+At a quarter to four--the cheque having been signed--Roger was shaking
+hands with the jewel expert he had summoned, and bowing to Count
+Lovoresco. The pearls were his, and he was impatient for Beverley. In
+five or six minutes she ought to arrive.
+
+Beverley stepped into the lift as Count Lovoresco and Simon Lecourt
+stepped out. As they passed she heard Roger's name, and her heart
+jumped. These were strangers to her, but they had perhaps been calling
+on Roger. What if they were connected with the past terror which had
+begun lately to seem as dim as a dreadful dream? What if they had been
+telling Roger?
+
+Such a thought would not have come, save for the scene she had gone
+through. With her nerves keyed to breaking point she went up to her own
+floor with somewhat the sensation she might have had in stepping from
+the tumbril to the guillotine. It was all she could do not to scream at
+Sister Lake in the hall; and when Roger appeared also it seemed to
+Beverley that she would faint.
+
+Roger did not share the nurse's interest in Clo's outing; but he wanted
+Beverley.
+
+"Good girl!" he exclaimed, trying to be gay. "You're back ahead of time.
+Send one of the servants down with money for Miss Riley. Come into the
+study; I've got something to show you. When you've seen it you'll know
+why I asked you to be home by four."
+
+"I'll be there in a minute!" Beverley answered. "Let me take off my hat
+first. I've rather a headache!"
+
+She turned toward her room, hoping that Roger would wait in the study,
+thus giving her a chance to find what she had to find, and take it to
+Clo in the waiting auto. But Roger, remorseful already for his disloyal
+thought connecting her with O'Reilly, followed.
+
+"If you'd a prophetic soul," he said, "your headache would go. Are you
+good at guessing, Bev?"
+
+The girl was at her wits' end. Already she had almost fibbed, in
+explaining Clo's errand. If only, now, she could have five minutes'
+grace!
+
+"You ought to know I never guess anything right!" she laughed. "It's not
+quite four. Show me the wonderful thing just as the clock strikes!"
+
+Roger pulled out his watch. "All right, baby!" he teased her. "You've
+got just three minutes and a half. Perhaps you think a woman needs that
+time to take off her hat; I'll show you you're wrong!"
+
+He neatly extracted a hat pin which Beverley had twisted into her veil.
+Then off came the hat. Roger led his wife by the hand to the door of his
+study. Beverley was in despair. Her one cause for thankfulness lay in
+the fact that he had forgotten Clo. If he'd remembered to send down
+money, the girl would have been bewildered, and perhaps have come in to
+ask for instructions. There was room in Beverley's brain for no other
+thought than "How am I to get that parcel and give it to Clo?"
+
+"Shut your eyes," said Roger. "The clock's going to strike four now;
+don't open your eyes till it stops."
+
+Beverley obeyed, as in that mood she would have obeyed an order to stand
+still and be shot through the heart. "One--two," slowly struck the
+grandfather clock in the corner; and she felt something cool and heavy
+dropped over her neck. "Three--four!" the clock finished. "Open your
+eyes," Roger gave the signal.
+
+"Oh!" cried Beverley, almost aghast. On her delicate gray dress the
+double line of pearls glistened like huge drops of dew on a spider-web.
+The rope hung down below her waist, and each pearl had a light in its
+heart as if it held the ghost of a rainbow. "It can't be true! It's a
+dream!" the girl stammered. She loved pearls, and knew that these were
+marvels beyond common knowledge. But oh, if they could have come to her
+at another time!
+
+She managed, however, to put a world of emotion into one kiss and clasp
+of her arms. Her silent anguish was disguised as awe. By this time she
+had an inspiration. She felt like the Queen of New York, she said. She
+must run to her room for a look in the glass, as there was only a weird
+old convex mirror in the study. In just a minute--or maybe two
+minutes--she would come back. She could have sobbed out "Thank God!"
+when Roger, laughing at her vanity, let her go. This time he did not
+follow. He stood examining the purple velvet case with the Queen's crown
+and monogram. He had not told Beverley the price he had given for the
+pearls. He wondered if she guessed that they had cost a fortune. Why
+didn't she come back?
+
+Beverley had not even thrown a glance at the mirror. In her own room she
+tore open the drawer where her handkerchiefs were kept in rose-scented
+sachet cases. The largest of these cases she snatched, throwing the
+contents back into the drawer. With fingers that shook, she ripped the
+top of the padded silk cushion, and extracted a long envelope sealed
+with three gold seals. She would hardly have remembered the Queen's
+pearls had the rope not caught in the key of the drawer as she turned
+hastily to go. Before she could save it, the string broke, and pearls
+big as peas began falling like hailstones.
+
+With a cry, she caught the broken ends of the rope together, dragged it
+over her head and bundled it into the drawer among scattered
+handkerchiefs. She did not even stop to close the drawer. As for the
+fallen pearls--a dozen at least--there was no time to think of them, or
+of what Roger would say when he heard of the accident.
+
+Crushing on her hat, which still lay on the bed where Roger had thrown
+it, she ran from the room, stuffing the envelope into her handbag. Luck
+favoured her. She got out of the flat and into the lift without being
+seen.
+
+When five minutes had passed and Beverley was still away, Roger decided
+to join her. He opened the bedroom door, and looked in. Something rolled
+away from Roger's foot on the threshold. He stooped and picked the thing
+up: it was an enormous pearl.
+
+A shock of fear thrilled through him. He thought that news of his
+purchase might already have reached the underworld. In these few
+minutes, while he calmly waited for Beverley, she might have been
+murdered. Things like that did happen. He stepped on a second pearl, and
+saw that others lay on the pale rose carpet. He stood staring. At the
+foot of the bed a tall screen had been placed to keep the light from
+Beverley's eyes in the morning. What if behind it he should find her
+lying?
+
+As he braced himself to go and look, Beverley herself came into the
+room. It seemed that she shrank at sight of him.
+
+"I thought you'd been kidnapped or killed!" he gasped. "What's
+happened?"
+
+"N-n-nothing," she stammered. "It was only--we forgot about Clo--I had
+to take her that money. I----" She broke off, seeing the pearl in
+Roger's hand. "Oh, wasn't it dreadful that the rope snapped?" she
+hurried on. "I wanted to get back to you quickly. I knew the pearls were
+safe here. I just shut the door, and ran down."
+
+"So I see," Roger said drily. All the joy he had felt in his splendid
+gift was gone.
+
+"What are a few pearls more or less compared to Miss Riley's
+convenience?"
+
+"Oh, Roger!" Beverley burst into tears. "Don't look at me like that!
+Don't speak to me like that! You think I don't value the pearls? I
+do!--for themselves, and for your love! I acted on impulse----"
+
+"Quite so. You've done that before. Don't apologize, my dear girl. It's
+not worth it. I care less for the things than you do. Ring for your maid
+and let her sweep them up. I dare say she'll find them all to-day or
+to-morrow!"
+
+"No," said Beverley, fighting back the hysterical sobs that choked her.
+"No, I won't have anyone look for the pearls but myself. Unless you,
+Roger, would show your forgiveness by helping me?"
+
+"I have an appointment," he answered. "I'm late for it now. I shall have
+to go at once."
+
+It was not true. He had no appointment. But he felt that he must be
+alone, and out of doors, in the fresh air.
+
+Clo Riley, returning from her errand at the Hotel Westmorland, did not
+see him as she tripped from car to door, but Roger on his way home saw
+the girl hurry in as if each second were important. Hardly had she
+vanished when a man strolled round the corner. He was walking slowly,
+and looking up at the facade as if interested. Roger, at the farther end
+of the block, recognized Justin O'Reilly.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+BEVERLEY TALKS
+
+
+Clo remembered Beverley's instructions, and went straight to her own
+room, but the threat of the ferret-man rang in her ears. "Tell your lady
+friend a life will pay for this. She's got till ten o'clock to-night,
+and not a minute more."
+
+It was now after five, and Sister Lake was firmly bent upon undressing
+her charge. Clo had to let herself be tucked into bed. Meekly also she
+received the order to lie quite still and rest till dinner time.
+
+Rest! As though she could rest, not knowing what ought to be done next
+to help the Angel! A passive plan occurred to Clo, which could do no
+harm, and her quick wit suggested how best to carry it out.
+
+"I'll be as good as gold," she promised, "if you'll forgive me, Sister,
+and do me a favour. I feel sick because I spoilt your afternoon! You
+stayed in, waiting for me to come back, instead of taking your walk.
+Will you go out now, instead? I'll rest better if you will. Do, please!"
+
+All Clo's Irish powers of persuasion were needed to coax Sister into
+consenting. Eventually she relented. Clo could have sung for joy as
+Sister Lake bade her "good-bye for an hour." As the door of the room
+closed, the girl began counting the seconds which must pass before the
+outer door shut.
+
+"Sixty-two--sixty-three--she ought to be gone!" Clo was whispering, when
+her heart sank. The room door opened. She feared that Sister Lake had
+changed her mind; but it was the Angel who came in.
+
+"I was racking my brain how to get rid of Sister when I saw her go out,"
+Beverley said. "I'm sure you managed it. I've been desperate. You can't
+think what things have happened! Tell me, did all go well?"
+
+The blow must be struck. In a few words Clo described the scene at the
+Westmorland; told how the ferret-man had kept her waiting; how he had
+said that the envelope looked all right, but had insisted upon opening
+it; how he had flown into a rage at finding only folded sheets of blank
+paper.
+
+"Blank paper!" Beverley gasped. "But that's impossible! I know what was
+in the envelope. There were letters. The man must have tricked you."
+
+Clo shook her head.
+
+"I was watching him. He had no time, or chance, to play a trick. The
+blank paper was there, and nothing else. It was writing paper, quite a
+lot of sheets that seemed to have been taken from some train, 'Santa Fe
+Limited,' or a name like that."
+
+Beverley gave a cry, as if she had been struck over the heart.
+
+"Let me think," she groaned. "How can that have been? Writing paper
+taken from the train?"
+
+Suddenly she turned, and came back to the bed, putting out her hands in
+a groping way to Clo. The girl caught and held them tightly. They were
+very cold.
+
+"Angel! is there nothing I can do?" she whispered.
+
+Beverley sank on the bed once more.
+
+"My head feels as if I'd been given ether," she said. "I can't think
+things out clearly. That isn't like me! A terrible day! One shock after
+another. If I talk to you, will you swear by all that's sacred never to
+give away one word?"
+
+"I swear by my love for you. That's the most sacred thing I have, except
+my locket with mother's picture," the girl answered.
+
+"You see," Beverley went on, "I've no one else but you, Clo. If I told
+my husband anything, I should have to tell all. I daren't do that. Not
+because I couldn't trust him. But I've taken an oath ten times more
+solemn than the one you took just now, to keep a secret that isn't only
+mine. Another's life depends on the secret being kept. To save that life
+I was forced to do what I hate to think of. And it's no concern of
+yours, but it would be Roger's if he had the faintest inkling! Now, I'm
+going to tell you one or two things, and you must use your brains to
+explain the mystery. You're clever, and true as steel. You've proved
+that! Suppose a case; suppose you'd undertaken a dangerous mission. You
+have in your charge some documents which could make or break a man. You
+know you'll be followed. You nearly miss your train, but you jump on
+board at the last minute. You see a man--not the one you expect, but
+another just as much to be feared--more, perhaps, because he's a great
+deal cleverer, if not so violent. You think you're lost, but you find a
+friend, a man who helps you. You give him the envelope that has the
+papers in it--a sealed envelope. You've seen it, Clo! He keeps it
+through the journey. At a stopping place on the way he offers to hand it
+back to you, but you refuse. You feel that the thing is safer with him.
+Later, in New York, he returns the envelope intact, the seals unbroken.
+This friend who comes to the rescue is the soul of honour. Never since
+that moment has the envelope been out of your own keeping. Yet it is
+opened to-day for the first time, and the papers that were in it are
+gone, changed for stationery of that train, the 'Santa Fe Limited.' How
+can this have been done? Who did it?"
+
+"The other man must have done it, the one who followed you on to the
+train."
+
+"But he was never near Rog ... never near the man who ... oh, I might as
+well tell you right out that it was Roger who kept the envelope for me.
+I'll tell you the name of the other man, too. It's sure to slip out! His
+name is Justin O'Reilly."
+
+"O'Reilly?" Clo echoed. "How dare the brute have a name like mine?"
+
+"Why, so it is like," said Beverley. "But there's an 'O,' and he spells
+it differently."
+
+"Beast! He'd better, or I'd have to change," snapped Clo. "Well,
+whatever his name is, I believe he must have stolen your papers. Can you
+go back, and live over again every step of the way?"
+
+Beverley shut her eyes, and began to think aloud. "The morning after we
+started Roger mentioned meeting an acquaintance ... a man named
+O'Reilly. He didn't dream the name meant anything to me. They exchanged
+only a few words when Roger passed O'Reilly's table at breakfast time.
+Nothing could have happened then, I know. Afterward, I never heard of
+their meeting again through the whole journey. I should have heard, if
+they had, I think. Roger was with me a good deal. At Chicago.--Let me
+see!...
+
+"I'm calling it back to my mind. Roger helped me out of the train.
+O'Reilly was out already. He stood on the platform, looking for
+someone--or so it seemed. We went quite close to him, but not close
+enough for even the smartest pickpocket in America to steal the envelope
+from Roger."
+
+"Where was the envelope then?" the girl wanted to know.
+
+"In an inside breast pocket of Roger's coat; not an overcoat. It was
+September. The weather was hot."
+
+"Wouldn't it be easy for any one looking for the envelope to see that
+Mr. Sands had something thick and long in an inside breast pocket, and
+suspect what it was?"
+
+"Any one might suspect. No one could be sure. It would have shown more
+plainly if Roger had worn his coat buttoned. He didn't, on purpose."
+
+"Still, his coat not being buttoned would make it easier to steal the
+envelope, if somebody very clever got a chance to try."
+
+"Perhaps. But O'Reilly could never have done such a thing. It would take
+a trained thief."
+
+"Can people send off telegrams from those Limited trains?" Clo took up
+her catechism again.
+
+"Yes, of course they can."
+
+"Would there have been time for this O'Reilly chap to wire Chicago,
+after he followed you on board the train, and have a man meet him?"
+
+"Yes, plenty of time."
+
+"Well, what if he wired to some detective people, and told them to send
+him the 'smartest pickpocket in America'?"
+
+"But ... the police couldn't ... wouldn't ... do such a thing!"
+
+"I don't mean the real police," Clo explained. "Haven't you often read
+books about private detectives? I have. They might get reformed thieves
+to work for them. Can you remember what O'Reilly did next, after you
+both passed him on the platform?"
+
+"No. I didn't look back."
+
+"You don't know, then, whether the person he seemed to expect ever
+turned up?"
+
+Beverley shook her head. "Roger and I went straight ahead to a newsstand
+where _I_ expected to meet a person. Two or three minutes after we
+passed O'Reilly we were mixed up in a big crowd, almost fighting our way
+through...."
+
+"Oh, a big crowd!" Clo broke in. "A chance for that pickpocket. Suppose
+he came the minute you had turned your backs on O'Reilly, and he sent
+his trained thief after you, hot foot, to get that envelope?"
+
+"Ah, but you've forgotten something!" cried Beverley. "A thief might get
+the envelope: I'll admit that. But how could he have another one exactly
+like it, with the same seals, the same monogram, to put into Roger's
+pocket, when he took the original?"
+
+"He could only have it if O'Reilly could have given it to him. Could he
+have done that?"
+
+Suddenly Beverley began to see. A vivid idea sprang into her head, and
+was imaged in her eyes.
+
+"You've thought of something!" Clo exclaimed. "You see how O'Reilly
+might have got the seal with the monogram, and the gold wax, and an
+envelope like the one you had?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I do see!" Beverley groaned. "He could have brought the things
+from--from.... But never mind. That part's nothing to you."
+
+"I want only to know the part you want me to know," said Clo.
+
+"It isn't a question of what I want. It's a question of my sacred oath,"
+Beverley answered. "There was a house where I had been, to get the
+envelope. O'Reilly was there, too. Someone ... no matter who! ... could
+have given him all the things, so he could change envelopes if he got
+the chance. Oh, child, I keep stumbling on to a path where I dare not
+step."
+
+"We'll go back to the train," said Clo. "If O'Reilly had the gold wax
+and the seal, and the right kind of envelope, he could have made his
+plan, and sent his telegram, and had everything ready for the right
+minute ... in the Chicago station."
+
+"Ye--es, he could. But it's almost impossible!"
+
+"It's more possible than Mr. Sands' changing the envelopes, isn't it?"
+
+"That is the one impossible thing. The worst remains. I have lost the
+papers! Whether O'Reilly has them or someone else, I can't get them
+back. Without them, I'm ruined!"
+
+"You shan't be!" Clo cried, twining her thin arms round her idol's
+waist. "You must be saved somehow. We've got till ten o'clock to think."
+
+"If I were the only one, it wouldn't matter so much," Beverley said.
+"But there's somebody who can be tortured as well as killed, if I have
+no bribe to offer. Those papers gave me all the power I had."
+
+"Wouldn't money...." Clo began, but Beverley cut her short.
+
+"No money I could get would be of any use," she said. "A million might
+be!"
+
+"See O'Reilly and make him give up the papers!" cried Clo. "Oh, but is
+he in New York?"
+
+"He doesn't live in New York, but he's here now. I know, because that
+man you saw, Peterson, told me. It was part of a threat he held over my
+head that O'Reilly and some people connected with him should be in town
+just now. I know the hotel he's staying in, the Dietz. But even if
+O'Reilly would come, how could I see him without Roger knowing? It
+wouldn't be possible!"
+
+"I'll somehow make O'Reilly come," the girl promised. "I don't know how,
+yet, but I know I will, if you can get Mr. Sands out of the house."
+
+Beverley shuddered. "How horrid that sounds ... as if I were plotting
+against him, the way women do who deceive their husbands."
+
+"Well, anyhow, if O'Reilly took the papers, would he still have them, do
+you think?" asked Clo, with the sudden eagerness of one who catches in
+desperation at a new idea.
+
+"It's just possible. I can see a reason why he might have been asked to
+keep them," Beverley answered.
+
+"If that's so, would he put them in a bank, or a safe somewhere, or
+would he bring them to New York?"
+
+"There might be a special motive for him to bring them to New York ... I
+think there would be a motive."
+
+"Well, it seems to me, the sort of man I imagined he is, would be too
+smart to have such things on him if he came to your house, and didn't
+mean to give 'em back to you. It would be tempting Providence, so to
+speak!"
+
+"If I were the kind of woman he thinks I am, he'd not expect me to stop
+short of murder to get those papers," and Beverley laughed a bitter
+little laugh.
+
+"Good! If he comes to you and leaves the papers at his hotel, a certain
+thing will happen, but it's safer for you not to know--till afterward."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+THE BLUFF THAT FAILED
+
+
+"You must tell me!" Beverley insisted. "Tell me at once!"
+
+"While Mr. O'Reilly is here with you, Miss Riley without the 'O', will
+be at his hotel, in his room, helping herself to his--I mean
+your--papers."
+
+"My child, you're mad!" Beverley gasped.
+
+"Not so mad as _he_'ll be when he finds out," crowed the girl. "Hurray!
+The whole business is settling itself in my head. The one trouble is Mr.
+Sands. The rest will be all right. Think what to do about him, Angel;
+think hard!"
+
+Beverley thought until her brain whirled.
+
+"I might suggest Roger's dining at his club," she said. "But how I
+should hate to do that! He's vexed already. He has a right to be! This
+afternoon he gave me a wonderful present, a rope of pearls that belonged
+to a Queen. It must have cost a quarter of a million! I hardly stopped
+to thank him, I was in such frantic haste to get the envelope to you.
+The rope caught in the key of a drawer; the string broke, and a lot of
+pearls ran all over the carpet. I didn't wait to pick them up. I ran
+down to you, and I was gone so long Roger went to my room to look for
+me. I came back and found him picking up pearls. I felt my excuses did
+more harm than good. Roger pretended that he had an engagement. I saw by
+his face he wanted to walk off his anger in the fresh air. If he does
+walk it off--if he comes back ready to make up, and I send him away
+again, perhaps that will finish it! Things may never be the same between
+us any more!"
+
+"He was angry because you didn't seem to care enough for his present,"
+said Clo. "But if you can get him out of the house for an hour or so,
+and at the same time prove that you adore the pearls; how does that plan
+strike you?"
+
+"How could I do both?"
+
+"Beg him to go fetch a pearl-stringer, and bring her back here himself,
+to-night. Say you can't rest or sleep till the pearls are restrung."
+
+"You forget it's Sunday, and----"
+
+"I don't forget. But I know a pearl-stringer. She isn't just any old
+pearl-stringer, who might thread on a wax bead here and there, and keep
+a pearl or two up her sleeve. She's the best pearl-stringer in New York.
+The big jewellers and lots of swell society women have her. It's queer
+the way I came to know her, but it makes it good for us. We were
+crossing a street, she and I. I didn't know the woman from Adam--Eve, I
+mean. But it was slippery, and she missed her footing. I dragged her
+back, just in time, and held her up. She's a little woman, no bigger
+than me, or I couldn't have done it. But I got her on the sidewalk
+again, and she was grateful. She's Irish, too, and she invited me to go
+and see her the next Sunday. It's out at Yonkers, where she lives, in a
+nice little house she's bought. I went there once. She said if she could
+do some favour for me, she'd love to. But it's no favour I'll be asking,
+except for her to come out on a Sunday evening. So the only thing is to
+fetch her. Do you think Mr. Sands will go?"
+
+"It depends upon how he feels when he comes in," said Beverley. "But
+Sister Lake would never let you out again."
+
+"I shan't ask her. I'll get up and dress while you see if Mr. Sands is
+back. If I hear from you that all's well, I'll slip out before Sister
+comes."
+
+"Clo, you're wonderful!" Beverley exclaimed. "How can I thank you
+enough?"
+
+"Thanks from you to me! That's good! Just wait, Angel, anyhow, till I've
+done something. Oh, I forgot to give you the pearl-stringer's address.
+It's Miss Blackburne, 27 Elm Street, Yonkers. And tell Mr. Sands to
+mention my name. It might make a difference. She doesn't like leaving
+her mother in the evenings, but she'd do it for me."
+
+Beverley was gone for fifteen minutes. When she flew in again she was
+surprised to see Clo in bed as before. But hardly was the door closed
+when the girl threw back the coverlet, to show that she was fully
+dressed.
+
+"I was afraid Sister might pop in--by an evil chance," she explained.
+"I've only to put on my hat. Well, is it all right?"
+
+"Roger will go," said Beverley. "He's 'phoning now for his car. I'm
+putting off dinner till half-past eight so he can have plenty of time to
+get home and change. He didn't make any difficulty when I told him about
+the pearl-stringer and wanting her at once. He agreed with me that it
+would be best to do such an errand himself, if it were to be done. And
+he was very kind. But his manner was different. I'm frightened."
+
+"Don't be," said Clo. She was up now, had pinned on the pretty white
+hat, and was fastening her smart little cape. "I'll go first to the
+Westmorland and see our man; he said he'd be in, waiting till ten. I'll
+tell him things are in train, but he must give you till midnight, if
+necessary. From there perhaps I can 'phone the Dietz Hotel. It wouldn't
+be safe here. By that time O'Reilly ought to be in his room dressing for
+dinner. He'll see me, I'm sure, and the rest will arrange itself. Now,
+I'm off before Mr. Sands' automobile comes, or Sister Lake. If she finds
+the door shut and all quiet she'll think I'm asleep. Go back to your
+husband, Angel, and I'll slip away on my little jaunt."
+
+"I've brought money for you," said Beverley. "Take this purse. There's
+change for taxis and lots of bills besides--fifty or sixty dollars."
+
+Two minutes later Clo was in the street. The first thing that happened
+to her was a small piece of luck. She had been dreading the walk to a
+taxi-stand, when she saw a car about to drive away from a house near by.
+It was a public vehicle. Clo hailed the chauffeur and gave the
+Westmorland as her destination.
+
+"Mr. Peterson" was in, according to promise.
+
+"You again, is it? I looked for Mrs. Sands," he grumbled.
+
+"I'm her messenger for the second time," said Clo, "and probably I shall
+be for the third, when it comes to settling up. If you get what you
+want, it doesn't matter who brings it, I suppose?"
+
+"Then you suppose wrong. My business is with a woman, not a kid! All the
+same, if you've got anything for me----"
+
+"I haven't--yet!" Clo snapped him up. "It isn't time. But I'm on to
+where the thing is, and how to get it. Only it may take till after ten
+o'clock. That's what I came to say."
+
+"Save your breath! Ten o'clock's the time. If she doesn't want me to go
+back on my bargain she'd better not go back on hers."
+
+He looked more than ever like a ferret, the girl thought.
+
+"Mrs. Sands made no bargain as to time," she said. "And talking of time,
+what about the time _you've_ done?"
+
+Peterson gave a cackling laugh. "What's the female for 'Smart Aleck'?"
+he sneered. "Guessed by my complexion, did yuh? Well, I don't need to
+make no secret of it. My gardeens wished me good-bye and Lord bless me
+when the nine months they run me in for was up."
+
+Clo thought she could come close to guessing what the charge had been,
+and it would have needed more than the word of a ferret to assure her of
+his "innocence." The man was a born sneak-thief or pickpocket. His hands
+were slim and small as a girl's. Perhaps if temptation had been put in
+his way while he "waited at the newsstand" for Beverley, all those
+months ago, he had been unable to resist and thus had missed his
+appointment. Not that the girl much cared as to this detail; it was not
+her affair. But it was odd, almost "creepy," how the links were being
+joined together in the chain of evidence against O'Reilly, the man who
+had followed Angel into the Limited--the man against whom Clo had
+presently to try her wits. What concerned her most was that her first
+attempt at bluff had failed. Something in Peterson's manner forced her
+to believe that he had indeed served out his full sentence, and for the
+moment had nothing to fear from the police. Clodagh hid her
+disappointment with a little swagger.
+
+"It suits us just as well as you, to finish up at ten o'clock and get it
+over," she said. "If we can, we will. If we can't, you'll have to wait.
+The way things are, you have to be in with us, you see, not against us."
+
+"Oh, do I? I ain't so sure!" he flung back. "I ain't sure my fine
+madam's not in the game t'other way round--and her husband, too. I know
+now that she and Roger Sands travelled in the same train from where she
+started. Blowed if I see why she'd do it, but it might be they fixed a
+frame-up between them. I can see why it would suit Sands, if it wouldn't
+her, and a man's stronger than a woman. Sands was working for John Heron
+at the time. That means a lot."
+
+"It doesn't mean that Mrs. Sands would be disloyal to her word. I know
+she's true as steel," Clo insisted. She spoke crisply, but her thoughts
+wandered. They had caught at the name of John Heron; Beverley had never
+mentioned it. The girl had no means of guessing how it might bear upon
+the case now in her small, determined hands. She did not see how, or
+where, she could have heard it before, yet it did not sound strange to
+her. The feeling she had on hearing it puzzled and even thrilled her
+vaguely. It was as if the name, "John Heron," had been whispered into
+her ear in a dream--a dream not forgotten, but buried under other things
+in her brain. The girl was suddenly alert. There was only one fact which
+she grasped with straining certainty. In that buried dream there were
+other sounds connected with the whispered name: sounds of sobbing, as of
+someone crying in the dark.
+
+"Anyhow," Peterson went on, "there was a frame-up, and those that was in
+it has got to pay me for what I went through. That's partly why I'm here
+in Noo York. If I don't have those papers by ten I'll show up at the
+Sands flat and ask for the missis."
+
+"You wouldn't find Mr. Sands at home," the girl cut in. "He's out. When
+he comes back he's likely to go away again at once."
+
+"Aw, he is, is he?" echoed Peterson. His personality waked up
+secretively, like that of some weak, night animal hiding in a wood. Clo
+eyed him, striving to make him out.
+
+"Better go home, kiddy," he advised. His tone was good-natured. "Shall I
+see you back to where you live, or----"
+
+"I have another errand to do," the girl announced with dignity. She had
+meant to telephone from the Westmorland to the Dietz, and learn if
+Justin O'Reilly was in; but now she determined not to do so. Better
+waste a little time rather than Peterson should hear her inquiring for
+O'Reilly. Instead of waiting to telephone, she walked to the door and
+asked a half-baked youth in hotel livery to call her a taxi.
+
+"If ferret-face tries to follow I'll lead him a dance!" she thought. But
+ferret-face seemed to read her mind, and be willing to relieve it.
+
+"So long!" he said. "I've got a job o' work, too. It will take me till
+about ten. After that I shall be lookin' for a call from you or her
+ladyship."
+
+He turned his back and sauntered to the elevator. Before the taxi had
+arrived he had been shot up to regions above.
+
+"So that's all right!" Clo muttered to herself, spinning toward the
+Dietz. Yet, as she said the words, she wondered if it _was_ all right.
+Why had Peterson's whole personality made a kind of "lightning change"
+on hearing that Sands (whom he expressed a wish to see) would not be at
+home that night? Ought she to 'phone to Beverley and put her on guard?
+Yes, she would telephone from the Dietz, while waiting to see O'Reilly.
+It would be safe, because Roger by this time should be far away.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+THE BLUFF THAT WON
+
+
+Justin O'Reilly had a modest suite in the magnificent Dietz. It adjoined
+the luxurious suite of Mr. and Mrs. John Heron, and consisted of a small
+sitting-room, a bedroom, and bath. He was tying his necktie when the
+telephone bell rang. He grabbed the receiver as if it were a snake that
+had to be throttled, and gave it a grudging "Hello!"
+
+"A lady to see you," a voice answered.
+
+"She wasn't told I'm in, I hope? A nice thing for a well-regulated hotel
+if----"
+
+"No, but she says it's important. She's Miss O'Reilly."
+
+Miss O'Reilly! The man of that name was perplexed. The only Miss
+O'Reilly who, as far as he knew, could possibly call on him, was the
+last woman he would have expected to do so. He had come to New York
+largely in the hope of seeing her. She had refused to see him.
+
+"Tell her I'll be down in three minutes," he replied.
+
+"She particularly doesn't want you to come down. She says she has some
+private news for you, and asks if you'll see her in your own
+sitting-room."
+
+"All right," he tried to answer calmly. "Have the lady shown up."
+
+He rushed back into his bedroom to wrestle once more with the tie. He
+must be ready to receive Miss O'Reilly at the door, and his waistcoat
+and coat were yet to put on. But it could be managed. The suite was on
+the fifteenth floor, and a full minute's walk from the lift for an old
+person like Miss O'Reilly. Bungling everything in his haste, he tried to
+think what it might mean. It looked as if she must have changed her
+mind, and be ready to sell him her house, the dear old house on which he
+had set his heart. Perhaps she would demand a higher price than he had
+offered. Well, he must pay it somehow. Heron would lend him the
+money--but no, there were reasons why O'Reilly didn't wish to accept
+favours from Heron, often as they had been pressed upon him. As he
+slipped into his coat, he heard the expected rap at his sitting-room
+door, and hurried to open it. A page-boy, acting as guide, had run ahead
+of the lady, to knock.
+
+"Miss O'Reilly to see Mr. O'Reilly," he announced, with Irish relish of
+the Irish name. Then he erased himself. O'Reilly stood on the threshold,
+waiting for the right lady to appear, and meanwhile dodged back from the
+wrong one, a small, slim flapper in white, who for some reason had
+paused before his door. She stood quite still, and stared up at him
+unwinkingly, as a child stares.
+
+"I beg your pardon," O'Reilly said, wanting to laugh. "May I pass? I
+must look for a lady who----"
+
+"I'm the lady," the creature in white intervened. "That is, I am if you
+are Mr. O'Reilly."
+
+"O'Reilly's my name," he admitted. "But I was expecting--or--perhaps my
+cousin sent you?"
+
+"Perhaps I am your cousin," suggested the girl who (Justin saw, now that
+he looked her deliberately in the face) had the biggest, blackest eyes,
+and the whitest skin he had ever seen. She had, also, red hair under a
+fetching hat. Although the child was no beauty, she had an amusing,
+elfin air.
+
+"Delighted, I'm sure," he felt obliged to answer. "I thought I had only
+one cousin in the world, Theresa O'Reilly, of Gramercy Park. But----"
+
+"It sounds like the chorus of a song; 'Theresa O'Reilly, of Gramercy
+Park,'" Clo was unable to resist remarking, with her strongest brogue.
+"Will you please ask me in?" she said. "My errand's very pressing."
+
+Mechanically the man stepped aside and let her walk into the room. He
+began to suspect that he had been "spoofed." He did not invite the young
+person to be seated, but looked at her expectantly. Her first move was
+to shut the door. She did not speak.
+
+"May I know your name?" he inquired, as they faced each other.
+
+"The same as yours, but for a letter or two," said Clo, marking time.
+"That's why I may be a cousin; one never knows. I didn't come to talk
+about the family tree, though, Mr. O'Reilly. I came to beg--not for
+money, so don't be frightened."
+
+"I'm not conscious of fear," laughed O'Reilly. He couldn't help
+laughing. He didn't believe the girl's name was the "same as his." "If
+I'm not afraid, I am curious," he confessed. "What are you going to beg
+for, if not money? Is this a message from my cousin----?"
+
+Clo ceased suddenly to be impish. She had got into the enemy's fastness
+by her impishness, but she could go no further on that line. This man,
+being the exact opposite of the type expected, upset her plan. A big
+danger was that she might like this O'Reilly instead of hating him, he
+was so pleasant and gallant-looking, more a protector than a persecutor
+of women. She might hesitate to cheat or trick him in whatever way came
+handy, and thus fail the Angel on top of all her boasts. In her hot
+little heart Clo prayed for the wisdom of the serpent, and as her elfin
+face took on anxious lines, she became more interesting to O'Reilly. Her
+white face looked pinched and desperate. "If I were Marat, and she
+Charlotte Corday," was the thought that jumped into his head, "she would
+stab me."
+
+"It's a good thing for me you have a cousin, or maybe you wouldn't have
+let me in. I know now why God gave me the name of Riley. I guess he'll
+forgive me for borrowing the 'O.' I was obliged to get to you somehow.
+That was the one way I could think of."
+
+"It was a pretty smart way," O'Reilly flattered her. "But you haven't
+told me----"
+
+"I will. Only--I think I'll have to sit down. I feel rather--queer----"
+
+"Good lord! You can't faint here!"
+
+"I won't, unless you make me, I'll promise that!" She had her cue now.
+
+"Sit down, for heaven's sake!" said O'Reilly, pulling up the biggest
+chair in the room. Clo sank into it. Closing her eyes, she drew in a
+gasping breath which made her girlish bosom heave.
+
+The man stood by, feeling absurdly helpless.
+
+"Shall I ring for brandy?" he suggested.
+
+"No--please!" She opened her great eyes again. "Only listen. I've come
+from Mrs. Roger Sands--to beg you for those papers of hers."
+
+"Mrs. Roger Sands! Her papers? I know nothing of any papers belonging to
+Mrs. Roger Sands," O'Reilly exclaimed. "What papers are you talking
+about?"
+
+"The ones you hired a man to steal when the train got to Chicago."
+
+O'Reilly started. "Whose accusation is that?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Not hers; it's mine."
+
+"Yours! Once again, who are you? What are you in this?"
+
+"I'm nobody! I'm only--a lion's mouse."
+
+O'Reilly did not ask what it meant to be a lion's mouse. He understood.
+His mind was not less quick than hers.
+
+"And I'm the net you hope to gnaw! Miss Mouse, your little teeth will
+find me tough. I may say I'm a patent, ungnawable net. The best thing
+for you is to go home as fast as you can and tell those who sent
+you----"
+
+"I sent myself," Clo explained, with tired obstinacy. "I told you I had
+to see you somehow. Oh, Mr. O'Reilly, you don't look the sort of cruel
+pig I thought you would be. If you dreamed what Mrs. Sands is going
+through you'd give her back the papers. Don't pretend not to know what I
+mean."
+
+"I won't pretend anything," O'Reilly said. "I do know what you mean, and
+I got the documents (which were not the property of Mrs. Sands) more or
+less as you think I got them. But no mouse, no mastodon could induce me
+to hand them over to your friend."
+
+Clo's eyes travelled over his person. He looked slim and soldierly in
+his well-made evening clothes. There could be nothing thicker than a
+watch, and that a thin one, in his pockets.
+
+"If you would see Mrs. Sands, maybe you'd change your mind," she
+pleaded, in her creamiest Irish voice. "Take me back to her, and take
+the papers along. Then, if you----"
+
+"I can't do either," was O'Reilly's ultimatum. "I'll take you downstairs
+and put you in your car if you've got one, or a taxi if you haven't.
+But----"
+
+"You'll have to take me home," said Clo. "I won't try to start without
+you. I've gone through enough. I'll just let myself collapse. I promised
+not to faint unless you made me. Now you are making me."
+
+"You deserve to be thrown out of the window!"
+
+"I have been, once," the pale girl announced. "It was four storeys up,
+and all my ribs were smashed. This is my first day out of bed. I thought
+I could manage it, if you were kind. I'd gladly die for Mrs. Sands. And
+if I do----"
+
+"Brace up!" O'Reilly cried. "I'll take you home. I know where the house
+is. I passed it this afternoon. There was a man who----But no matter.
+Have you got a car below?"
+
+Clo was almost past answering; almost, not quite. But weakness was her
+"cue," as well as the line of least resistance. Having now an incentive
+to let herself go rather than "brace up" as O'Reilly urged, she enjoyed
+collapsing. Yet something within was on guard, and knew that O'Reilly
+had to be watched.
+
+He dashed to the telephone and ordered a taxi. Then he returned to the
+girl in the chair. Her eyes were half shut, a rim of white showing
+between the lashes. The man could not help believing the queer story she
+had gasped out, about the fall, and the broken ribs, and this being the
+first day she had left her bed. That would account for her thinness and
+paleness. He touched her hand, which hung over the arm of the chair.
+There was no glove on it, and the pathetically small thing was icy cold.
+
+"She's fainted, fast enough," he growled. Clo heard the words dimly, as
+though she had cotton wool in her ears. Her duty was to trick the man,
+but she didn't like doing that duty.
+
+O'Reilly gently laid down the tiny paw he had taken in his. It was limp
+as the hand of a dead girl. Clo would have felt less compunction if he
+had dropped it roughly. He took a few brisk steps, as though he had come
+to some decision. She forced herself back from the brink of
+unconsciousness to realize that he was going toward the door--not the
+outer door, through which she had entered, but another. He opened this,
+and Clo saw that beyond was a bedroom. Quickly he went to a table where
+stood a tall glass jug filled with crushed ice and water. His back was
+turned to the girl as he began pouring the jug's contents into a
+tumbler, but suddenly, as if on a strong impulse, he turned. Clo did not
+even quiver. Something told her that the thing she had prayed for was
+about to happen.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+O'REILLY'S WAISTCOAT POCKET
+
+
+O'Reilly's first look into the sitting room was not for the girl.
+Involuntarily, it seemed, he sent a lightning glance to the left, to
+that side of the room farthest from the big chair where she sat. Clo's
+desperate need to know what was in his head inspired her with
+clairvoyance. Consciousness lit her brain once more. She was sure that
+she had read his thoughts. He feared that after all she was fooling him.
+He was saying in his mind: "What if she meant me to go and fetch this
+water while she looks for what she wants to find?"
+
+Now Clo was certain at last, not only of his having the papers, but that
+they were in the room, somewhere on that left side, where his glance had
+flashed. It was hard to keep still, without the flicker of an eyelash;
+but she believed, as O'Reilly came back to her, that she had stood the
+test of his stare.
+
+He moistened his handkerchief, and gingerly dabbed the girl's forehead.
+It was a relief to "come to," to be able to start, and draw a long
+breath.
+
+"There! You're better, aren't you?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," she breathed. "I should like to go home, but I'm afraid----"
+
+"Don't be. I'm going with you," he said. "By this time a taxi's waiting
+for us. Do you think you can walk if I give you my arm?"
+
+"I'll try," Clo answered, gratefully.
+
+No pretence of weakness was needed. She felt like a rag. O'Reilly took
+her by the hand, and with an arm round the slim waist raised the girl to
+her feet. Once up, she swayed as if she might fall, but he held her
+firmly. "Lean against me," he said, in a kind voice.
+
+She had never before been so near to a man in her life. "You're very
+good to me," she whispered. "I should like you, please, to remember that
+I thank you."
+
+"I'm sorry I said you deserved to be thrown out of the window," O'Reilly
+absolved himself. "Whatever else you may be, you're a good plucked one.
+Now, here we are at the door. Are you sure you can walk to the elevator?
+Hang on to my arm."
+
+She hung on to it.
+
+They reached the lift, which came to them in a few seconds, unoccupied
+save for the youth who ran it. Clodagh kept up bravely until she was
+seated in the taxi, and could have kept up until the end without too
+great an effort, for her collapse had made her feel rested. It was not,
+however, the girl's metier to "keep up." The task was but half
+accomplished. The hardest part was to come.
+
+She knew--or thought she knew--that O'Reilly had the papers, that they
+were in New York; not only in New York, but in his private sitting room
+at the Dietz Hotel. They were in some hiding-place there; and for an
+instant he had feared her knowledge of its existence. He had expected
+her to try, while his back was turned, to steal its contents. Clo's
+nimble brain, deducing all this from what had happened, deduced
+something else as well. The man would have had no fear if the secret
+were impossible for an outsider to learn. It could not be impossible. It
+couldn't even be difficult, if she might have solved the puzzle while
+his back was turned. For her, O'Reilly's uneasiness was a hopeful sign.
+Somewhere on the window side of his private parlour at the Dietz the
+papers which Angel needed were hidden. Each second during the girl's
+slow progress to the lift, her descent, and her short walk to the taxi,
+was spent in sorting out these deductions.
+
+Those big black eyes of Clodagh Riley's had not been given her in vain.
+One swift glance during the cold-water treatment had shown her many
+details useful to remember. On one side of the window was a desk. In the
+desk was a drawer, and the key thereof was in the keyhole. It seemed
+improbable that secret papers should be kept in such a place, but
+circumstances might have forced O'Reilly to leave them there.
+
+On the other side of the window was a kind of buffet, with glass doors
+and shelves and a closed cupboard, but Clo had less hope of this than of
+the desk. There might be a less obvious hiding hole than either, perhaps
+a sliding panel in the wall. There must in any case be a key, and that
+key must be on the person of O'Reilly.
+
+She would have to use all her wits to get it while they were together in
+the taxi! And there was the key of the suite to get also; but that would
+be easier. She had seen O'Reilly take the big key from a table, as they
+went by, slipping it into the pocket of his dinner jacket. Forced to
+support his half-fainting guest, he had not put on an outer coat, so the
+key was within reach of clever and determined fingers. Clodagh's were
+determined, and--she hoped--clever.
+
+With this design burning in her head and tingling in her hands, she
+decided to faint again as they started for home, and keep O'Reilly
+occupied every inch of the way.
+
+"I'm afraid--I'm not so strong--after all----" she sighed, as the taxi
+door shut, and proceeded to "flop" like a large rag doll. Her head fell
+on the man's breast, and rolled across to his left arm, her hat askew.
+
+"I'm very ill," she moaned. "Something hurts so! My hat-pin----" And her
+voice trailed into silence.
+
+"Poor child!" the man exclaimed, completely taken in at last. The
+hat-pin was sticking in very deep! Not that she minded a little pain.
+But the great thing was to keep O'Reilly's hands busy.
+
+Clumsily, obstinately, he fumbled among the meshes of ostrich plume
+wound around her hat. The head of the pin eluding him there, he tried
+beneath the brim, his fingers tangling in thick waves of hair. They were
+soft waves, softer and silkier than the ostrich plume. No man with blood
+in his veins could have touched them without a thrill. The girl on his
+breast, her face on his arm, one hand holding her up, another caught in
+her hair, O'Reilly was conscious of electric shocks.
+
+His hands and attention thus engaged, Clo got the chance she'd waited
+for. Delicately, stealthily, like the "mouse" she called herself, she
+extracted the door key from O'Reilly's pocket. So far, so good. But the
+next deed would try her mettle. Lightly as a flitting shadow the small
+fingers moved over the man's waistcoat, from the belt line to the
+breast. She could feel his heart thump, and almost started, but
+controlled herself.
+
+Clo had noticed that men often wore a short chain or ribbon, attached to
+a watch, and hanging from the waistcoat pocket with a seal, a society
+badge or a lucky souvenir. O'Reilly wore no ornament of that sort; but
+there was a watch, a thin watch which she could feel through the cloth,
+and some flat object with it. If she could slip a finger into that
+pocket without his knowing!
+
+But now they were in Park Avenue, not far from the imposing apartment
+house at the corner, where Mr. and Mrs. Sands lived. Clo availed herself
+of a slight bump, and showed signs of sliding off the seat. O'Reilly,
+who had just extracted the hat-pin and stuck it into his coat, steadied
+her with an effort. Fortunately there was no need to look out and stop
+the chauffeur. That afternoon O'Reilly had passed the building, informed
+by Count Lovoresco who lived there, and had looked up with a certain
+curiosity. He remembered the number, and in leaving the Dietz had been
+able to give the address.
+
+The taxi stopped, and O'Reilly prepared to carry the fainting girl into
+the house. She would be a light load. As he got out of the taxi with Clo
+in his arms a man came forward.
+
+"Won't you let me help you, sir?" he civilly inquired.
+
+"You may run ahead," said O'Reilly. "I can manage the young lady
+myself."
+
+The man who had offered his services disappeared into the house, and
+found the porter, a substantial person in livery. Clo conveniently
+revived when placed on the seat of the lift. O'Reilly sat by her side,
+supporting the limp body, her hat in his hand, while the porter shot the
+elevator up to the Sands' floor.
+
+"Lord a'mighty!" the old fellow exclaimed, "if this ain't the poor child
+that's been an invalid all these weeks! Mrs. Sands will be in a way!
+Must be near eight weeks since this little gal was brought in on a
+stretcher, lookin' like dead. She ought to be in bed."
+
+"Somebody should have looked after her," said O'Reilly.
+
+"That's it, sir. Her nurse is out, gaddin'."
+
+"Brute!" Clo heard O'Reilly mutter. And leaning comfortably against his
+shoulder she felt wicked, treacherous, because she had more than once
+applied the same epithet to him. Whatever happened, never would she do
+that again!
+
+The elevator stopped. The porter touched the electric bell at the Sands'
+door, and almost instantly a manservant appeared. His cry of surprise
+brought Mrs. Sands herself out from a room at the end of the hall. The
+porter tried to explain everything; failed; broke off to question
+O'Reilly; O'Reilly answered; Beverley exclaimed; and among them, all was
+confusion. Clo, looking through half-shut eyes over her bearer's
+shoulder, saw a shadow flit between the portieres. Had some one come in?
+If so, who could it be? Or was it only the shadow of a blowing curtain
+she had seen? The question did not strike her as important just then,
+for if any one had passed it was doubtless a servant or, at worst,
+Sister Lake. Besides, Clo had much to think of; how to come back to
+consciousness quickly without rousing suspicion, and, when officially
+alive again, how to escape for the next errand.
+
+The rush of air and babble of excited voices gave her an excuse to gasp,
+and stammer out a conventional "Where am I?"
+
+"We'll get you to your room, dear," said Beverley; and Clo wondered if
+her acting had deceived Angel. "The butler can----"
+
+"No, thanks, I'll manage her by myself," O'Reilly broke in and carried
+the white bundle along the hall.
+
+"This is her room," Mrs. Sands explained to him. "If you will put her on
+the bed...."
+
+"No--please! Take me on into the next room, Sister Lake's room. I must
+be there. I'll tell you why presently," the girl pleaded.
+
+Beverley threw open the door between the two rooms, hurried ahead, and
+turned on a light.
+
+"Now, lay me on this bed," Clo commanded.
+
+Having obeyed, O'Reilly stood as if awaiting further orders. Clo glanced
+from him imploringly to Mrs. Sands. "I've gone through such a lot!" she
+moaned. "I've suffered so! I felt I could never get home alive. Please,
+Mr. O'Reilly--you've been kind--don't let it all be for nothing!"
+
+"What do you want of me?" he stiffly inquired.
+
+"Only for you to talk to Mrs. Sands. In that next room--my room. Nobody
+will disturb you. If the nurse comes back, she'll come into her own room
+first. That's why I asked you to bring me to it. I couldn't persuade you
+to give me the papers. Perhaps even Mrs. Sands can't persuade you. But I
+beg, I pray you, to give her the chance. Listen to what she has to say."
+
+"Very well," he answered, grudgingly. "I'll do what you ask. But I'll do
+it for your sake."
+
+Beverley had remained on the threshold of the next room. Now she
+retreated into it. O'Reilly followed; but at the door he turned.
+"Good-bye," he said to Clo.
+
+"Good-bye," she echoed. "And thank you again--for everything."
+
+She had more to thank him for than he knew--the contents of her tightly
+clutched hand.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+THE HORIZONTAL PANEL
+
+
+Following Mrs. Sands, O'Reilly left the door between the two rooms open;
+but Beverley stepped quickly back and closed it.
+
+"She's grand, the darling!" thought Clo. "Trust her to forget nothing.
+Her shutting that door proves how she counts on me."
+
+The girl was deadly tired, and her head ached, yet she struggled up as
+the door clicked. O'Reilly had brought in her hat and dropped it on a
+table. There was no hat-pin, but Clo crushed the soft toque down over
+her masses of red hair, and hoped she was not untidy enough to be
+conspicuous. Unsteadily she tottered to another door--the door that led
+into the corridor. This faced a narrower passage to the kitchen and
+domestic offices of the flat. Clo would have to take that way because,
+if she ventured into the lift and showed herself in the hall below, the
+porter might take alarm. He might fear that Mrs. Sands' protegee was
+trying to escape for some sly purpose of her own, and refuse to let her
+go till he had telephoned upstairs.
+
+In a quaint outside pocket of her new frock Clo had put the purse given
+her by Beverley. Through her adventures she had remembered to make sure
+occasionally that it had not dropped out. Now she opened the purse,
+selecting two ten-dollar bills and two of five dollars.
+
+"That ought to do for 'em all," she said, "even if the lot are at home."
+And, money in hand, she ventured to the kitchen door. Only the chef and
+a woman assistant were at work.
+
+"I'm Clo Riley, the girl Mrs. Sands has been good to," she eagerly
+explained. "I'm well again, and I have to go out. Mrs. Sands has a
+visitor, and I don't like to disturb them. Will you let me down your
+way?" So speaking she laid a ten-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill side
+by side on a table. She made no reference to the money, nor any gesture
+indicating it; nor did the others appear to see it.
+
+The chef escorted her in silence to the servants' elevator. There was a
+button to push, and down the girl went, rejoiced at passing another
+stage of her journey. Five minutes more, and she was in a taxi, tearing
+back to the Dietz Hotel.
+
+This time she marched boldly to a lift in a long row of half a dozen.
+"Fifteenth floor, please," she said, as if she owned the hotel; and was
+taken up without question. "Thanks to my swell clothes!" she thought.
+"Not far would I get in this place if I had on my old black!"
+
+Armed with O'Reilly's key Clo threaded her way through several corridors
+and arrived at the door of his suite. Her fingers shook so that she
+could not find the lock, and as she fumbled for it, the door of an
+adjoining suite opened. The nerve-tried girl started as if she had been
+shot, and dropped the key on the carpet.
+
+"Silly fool!" she scolded herself as she stooped to retrieve it, and to
+hide her face. If only the people (she knew by the voices they were man
+and woman) would pass before she had to look up! But they were in no
+hurry to pass. They had paused in front of their own door, and were
+talking in low tones--about her, Clo was sure!
+
+In a big hotel, the chances were ten to one against their knowing
+O'Reilly. Raising her head, she tried to eye the pair with airy
+arrogance.
+
+"I mustn't seem to care," she thought, and tried to wither them with a
+look before again attacking the keyhole. The woman was beautiful, a
+glorious, dark creature, gorgeously dressed and jewelled. But oddly it
+was the man who riveted Clo's attention, the man whose eyes gave the
+girl an electric shock. He was a tall, lanky, middle-aged individual,
+with auburn hair and a close-cut red beard streaked with gray. He walked
+with shoulders bent, and had no distinction, despite his well-cut
+evening clothes. But from under a pair of beetling black brows there
+flashed a light which took Clo's breath away. She didn't know what to
+make of his look. It was as if she'd been struck by lightning.
+
+"My goodness, after all he must be a friend of O'Reilly's!" she feared.
+Even that supposition wasn't enough to account for the flash.
+Frightened, she slid the key into the lock, and almost falling into the
+room slammed the door behind her. She did not need to lock it, for
+without a key it could not be opened from the outside.
+
+"I can hold the fort a few minutes now, whatever happens!"
+
+In the corridor John Heron and his wife lingered in front of their own
+door.
+
+"Well, if that's not the queerest thing I ever saw or heard of!" Heron
+exclaimed.
+
+Coming out of their suite, they had caught an impressionist glimpse of a
+figure in white bent over the keyhole, then the figure had stooped for
+the dropped key, and mechanically they had paused in surprise.
+
+"I wonder if she's made a mistake in the room?" Mrs. Heron had
+whispered, and Heron had returned:
+
+"Yes, I think that must be so. She'll find it out and go somewhere else.
+O'Reilly isn't----"
+
+There he had stopped short when the girl raised her head to face them;
+and when she presently vanished into his friend's room like a whirlwind,
+he neither finished his sentence nor answered his wife.
+
+"What's the matter, Jack?" Mrs. Heron asked. "How odd you look!"
+
+("Jack" was not a nickname that suited Heron, but his wife thought it
+debonair.)
+
+"Why don't you speak?" she persisted.
+
+"I was thinking," Heron said at last.
+
+"Thinking what we ought to do?" his wife caught him up. "Shall we knock
+and ask O'Reilly if he's ready to go down with us?"
+
+"No. We can't do that."
+
+"I suppose not. But weren't you going to say it isn't like O'Reilly to
+have a girl calling on him in his rooms?"
+
+"I don't remember what I was going to say," he snubbed her. "It doesn't
+matter, anyhow. After all, why shouldn't he? What is it to us?"
+
+"Well, I feel queer about it," objected Dolores Heron. "The creature may
+be a hotel thief?"
+
+"Nonsense!" fumed the man. "The girl was a child--sixteen or seventeen.
+We can't mix ourselves up in such an affair. Let's mind our own
+business."
+
+"You needn't be so cross. I haven't done anything," Dolores reproached
+him. They went down together, and sat side by side on a rose-coloured
+brocade sofa in the immense salon generally known as the "hall." Not one
+of the ladies present was handsomer than Mrs. Heron, not one had more
+beautiful jewels or a more perfect dress, and all the men openly admired
+her--except her own husband.
+
+Upstairs the girl in question was making the most of every moment. The
+queer little key attached to O'Reilly's watch couldn't belong to the
+desk, still, there might be a box inside the desk which it would fit.
+Clo searched everywhere and everything. At last, it seemed that nothing
+was left to try, when suddenly she recalled a paragraph in a newspaper.
+She had seen it in a Sunday Supplement. Why, yes, Miss Blackburne, the
+pearl-stringer, had given her the paper that Sunday long ago at Yonkers,
+to read on the journey home. The paragraph described the up-to-date
+feature added to some important hotel. Small safes had been placed in
+the walls of rooms for the benefit of guests, each key being different
+in design from every other. Clo could not remember the name of the hotel
+referred to. Perhaps it was this one. If not, the Dietz wasn't likely to
+let a rival get ahead of it. The girl stared at the wall. Any one of
+those panels might conceal a safe! There were lots of panels of
+different sizes, painted a soft gray and edged with delicate white
+mouldings. To test each would take hours (unless she had luck and hit on
+the right one first) for there might be a spring hidden in the flowery
+pattern of the moulding. But--it was to the left side of the room that
+O'Reilly had flung his anxious glance. She would begin, and hoped to
+end, her work on the left side. A few minutes spent in thinking out the
+situation, however, might save many minutes by and by. About those
+panels, for instance? Which were the most likely to hide a secret?
+
+A frieze or skirting-board of gray painted wood ran round the room to a
+height of three feet above the pink-carpeted floor. Above this frieze,
+distributed at regular intervals, were large plaster panels, two on each
+side of the room, forming backgrounds for gold-framed, coloured prints;
+and between these were small, narrow panels, ornamented with
+conventional flower designs. Beneath and above the latter were panels
+still smaller, placed horizontally, and outlined with white curlicues
+and flutings. They were about four inches in height by ten inches in
+length; and on the left side of the wall there were two.
+
+"Just the right size for nice big jewel boxes," Clo thought. "And the
+lower one's just the right height to open without stretching up. If I
+were putting a safe into a wall that's the place I'd choose!"
+
+She passed her finger round the edge of one, the white-fluted edge,
+rather like the decoration of a fancy cake. Nothing happened. No spring
+clicked. She tried the other with the same result, then stood
+disappointed, only to return to the attack with new inspiration.
+
+"I bet it pulls out!" she told herself. And--oh, joy, oh triumph!--it
+did pull out as she pressed her sharp little nails under the white
+fluting. The whole thing came away from the wall like the loose side of
+a box, having been kept in place by thin prongs of metal. Behind this
+cover was a steel or iron door of practically the same dimensions as the
+panel. It also was painted gray, and showed a tiny keyhole like a slit
+made with a pair of sharp scissors.
+
+Clo deposited the cover close by on the desk, where it would be within
+reach if wanted in a hurry. Then she inserted the key attached to
+O'Reilly's watch. It slipped into place. It turned. It opened the small
+iron door, and Clo peered into the aperture. In the receptacle lay a
+pile of greenbacks held together with a paper band. There was also an
+envelope, but not the envelope the girl had pictured. It was larger,
+longer, wider, and thicker. It seemed to be made of coarse linen, and
+instead of the dainty gold seals with the monogram there were five
+official-looking red ones. Clo's heart contracted. It seemed too bad to
+be true. But there was plenty of space in this envelope to contain the
+other, as well as its contents.
+
+"I'll have to open the thing and look," Clo half decided. But if she
+did, how could she make sure of what she wished to know? If the envelope
+with the gold seals had been removed, she had no means of recognizing
+the documents it had contained.
+
+She took the linen envelope from the safe, and turned it over. Upon the
+other side was an address, written in a strong, peculiar hand: "Justin
+O'Reilly, care of The Manager, Columbian Bank, New York City," she read.
+
+There was just one reason to believe that the envelope contained Mrs.
+Sands' papers; Clo's own strong, instinctive conviction.
+
+Tentatively she pressed one of the seals. It cracked across. Another
+went the same way, and as she touched the third there came a sound of
+talking outside the door. "Open it for me with your pass-key, please," a
+man said. It was O'Reilly's voice.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+"THERE CAN BE NO BARGAIN"
+
+
+When Beverley Sands had shut the door between Clodagh's room and Sister
+Lake's, she stood silent before Justin O'Reilly.
+
+"Well, Mrs. Sands," he said, "I must congratulate you."
+
+"On--what?" she stammered. She looked very young and humble, not at all
+the proud princess who had captured Roger Sands against his will.
+
+O'Reilly answered, still smiling his cruel smile, "It's not too late for
+congratulations on your marriage, is it? By the way, perhaps one wishes
+well to the bride and congratulates the bridegroom! I mean nothing
+invidious."
+
+"You mean to hurt me all you can!" Beverley cried.
+
+"I'm on the other side, Mrs. Sands."
+
+"Don't I know that!" she answered bitterly. "I've known since I saw you
+on board the Santa Fe Limited that day last September. I expected--some
+one else, not you. But I guessed in an instant why you had come."
+
+"I accepted the obligations of friendship," O'Reilly deigned to explain.
+"And that brings us to one of the subjects for congratulation: your
+friend. A wonderful young person. I congratulate you highly upon her.
+She informed me that she'd gladly die for you. Judging from her looks,
+she isn't far from doing so. I'm sure you must want to go to her now.
+Oh, by the by, one more congratulation: the pearls."
+
+"How did you know?" Beverley forgot her humiliation in sheer amazement.
+
+"Weren't you told that Heron was trying to buy them for his wife?"
+O'Reilly waived her question with another.
+
+"No, indeed! They were a surprise present to me this afternoon from my
+husband. If I'd known that Mr. Heron...."
+
+"You don't expect me to believe you'd have sacrificed them to Heron, or
+his wife, do you, Mrs. Sands?" O'Reilly laughed.
+
+"I almost think I would. I'll give the pearls up to Mrs. Heron if you'll
+do as--as Clodagh Riley asked you to do. Oh, for pity's sake! I'd pay
+more than the pearls for those papers. I'd pay with my life if that
+would be of any use. I know it wouldn't. But the pearls--can't we
+bargain with the pearls?"
+
+"We can't bargain at all, Mrs. Sands," O'Reilly said gravely. "I must
+go. I have an engagement to dine with the Herons. I should like to hear
+how my namesake is, and then I will be off."
+
+Beverley had expected little from an appeal to this man's pity, but the
+coincidence of Heron's desire for the pearls was so strange that it
+ought to mean something. It seemed terrible that such a chance should be
+wasted. Could she persuade Roger to let her give up the pearls? O'Reilly
+would look at the wonderful things and report upon their beauty. The
+Herons might be tempted to treat with her. In any case, the scheme was
+worth the trial.
+
+Silently she went to the door that she had closed, and peeped into
+Sister Lake's room. It was no surprise to her that Clodagh should have
+vanished. That was part of the plan. Her exclamation was for O'Reilly's
+benefit.
+
+"The child's gone!" she cried. "That means she's feeling better. She
+must be in my room--or in my boudoir. Will you come with me? We'll look
+for her. It will be on your way out."
+
+O'Reilly followed into the hall. Beverley, thinking quickly, went to the
+door of her own special sitting room, which adjoined her bedroom. A
+backward glance told her that the man had stopped facing the vestibule
+which gave exit from the flat. "Wait one moment," she said. "I'll see
+where Clodagh is." As she touched the door of the boudoir she was
+surprised to find it yielding before she turned the handle. This was
+odd, because she remembered shutting it the last time she came out. She
+had left the room only at the moment when O'Reilly brought in the
+half-fainting girl; and she had been particular to close the door
+because of the pearls. She had placed them on a table in the boudoir,
+ready for the pearl-stringer. Not that she feared their being stolen!
+Her own maid had been sent out for the afternoon. Two of the other
+servants had been given a holiday. Only the butler, the cook, and his
+assistant were at home, and all three had been in Roger's employ for
+years. They were above suspicion, and besides, they knew nothing of the
+pearls. Not a soul knew, save herself, Roger, Clo, and now O'Reilly.
+Roger had started off in his car before she brought the pearls from her
+bedroom into the boudoir. Who, then, had opened the door? Perhaps, after
+all, Clo had not dared attempt the second adventure. Perhaps she was
+still in the flat, and for some reason to be explained later, had taken
+refuge in the boudoir?
+
+A glance, however, showed that the girl was not there. The electric
+light flashed upon a room untenanted. There was the magnificent but
+broken rope in its case, wound in gleaming, concentric circles, the
+unstrung pearls retrieved from the floor grouped together on the purple
+cushion. The door stood open between boudoir and bedroom. Beverley
+thought that this had been shut also, though she was not sure. "Clo!"
+she called softly. There was some slight sound, or she imagined it.
+Quickly she went to the bedroom door, and peeped in, flooding the place
+with light. Clo was not to be seen. Turning off the electricity again
+Beverley went out to O'Reilly in the hall.
+
+"Come with me one moment," she said. "I've something to show you."
+
+O'Reilly hesitated.
+
+"Is your friend there? Does she wish to speak to me?" he asked.
+
+"Come and see," Beverley persisted. She led the way into the boudoir,
+and reluctantly her companion crossed the threshold. Mrs. Sands pointed
+to the pearls. "I wanted so much to show them to you. See how wonderful
+they are! Mr. Heron's so proud of his wife. I could arrange some plan,
+I'm sure, if--if----"
+
+A door slammed, and Beverley's sentence broke off with a gasp.
+Mechanically she shut down the cover of the velvet case. If Roger had
+come back; if, after all, he had only pretended to go for the
+pearl-stringer! She dared not guess what he would think at finding
+O'Reilly with her in his house. Too well she remembered the day of their
+one quarrel, when he had brought up this man's name in connection with
+Clo's, when he had accused her of crying it out in her sleep.
+
+"Mr. O'Reilly," she said, very quietly, "that may be my husband coming
+home. If it is, you will have to meet him. It can't be avoided. But I
+should like to speak to him first, if you will wait in this room for a
+moment."
+
+Without giving him time to answer she ran out. Minutes passed. Justin
+heard voices, women's voices. One, it seemed to him, was raised in
+anger. After all, it couldn't be Sands who had come! O'Reilly grew
+impatient, and fumbling for his watch he found it gone. Great Scott!
+Stolen! He remembered a certain small key attached to the chain. In a
+flash of enlightenment the whole plot mapped itself out before his eyes.
+Furious, his impulse was to dash from the room and denounce the chief
+culprit. But Beverley Sands' appeal to his chivalry stopped him like a
+chain round his feet.
+
+Now she called his name, and he opened the door.
+
+"It was my friend's nurse who came in," she said. "She threatens to
+leave at once. I must talk with her, try to soothe her down before my
+husband comes. He hasn't arrived, after all--and may not for a long
+time. But the way I felt when I thought he was here, shows me I oughtn't
+to keep you. Tell me once and for all before you go, now you've seen the
+pearls; is there any hope?"
+
+"None whatever," O'Reilly cut her short. "I'm going, Mrs. Sands. You
+need have no fear of me where your husband's concerned, though I
+understand now exactly why I was brought here, why I was kept till you
+were afraid to keep me longer. Your little friend is as smart at picking
+pockets as she is at acting. Again, I congratulate you upon her. But the
+effort's going to be wasted. Good-night."
+
+Beverley stood still, and let him go. She had no answer to make.
+Precisely what he meant by his accusation she did not understand, but
+she knew that, while she detained him, Clo had indeed dared the great
+adventure. For a moment Beverley thought of the pearls almost with
+distaste. That they should come to her to-day, when she cared for
+nothing in the world but the lost papers, was an irony of fate. She did
+not return to the boudoir. She forgot the mystery of the open door, and
+neglected to close it. She was nervously anxious to excuse herself to
+Sister Lake. Above all, it was her duty to defend Clo. She must confess
+that it was upon her errand the girl had defied authority.
+
+"Please don't blame the child," she pleaded. "She knew I needed
+something done for me--a thing I couldn't do myself. So she made this
+sacrifice. You must forgive us both."
+
+But Sister Lake was not to be placated. If Miss Riley were well enough
+to do Mrs. Sands' errands by day and night, a nurse's services were no
+longer needed. Sister Lake considered herself well paid, and would
+accept no present in addition. The butler was summoned to call a taxi
+and attend to sending down the small luggage. Meantime the Queen's
+pearls were forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+THE STONE COPING
+
+
+This was bad luck! Clo had not expected O'Reilly to track her down so
+soon. But he was at the door. There was only that frail barrier of wood,
+and the space of a few seconds between them! He had discovered the loss
+of his door key, and doubtless the other loss as well. He had guessed
+who was the thief, and what was the thief's motive. He had hurried home.
+A moment more--just the little delay of fitting in a pass key--and he
+would catch the culprit red-handed; he would deprive her of the spoils!
+
+Clear as a "cut in" from some moving picture, a scene rose before
+Clodagh's eyes. She saw herself at grips with O'Reilly. She saw him
+wrench the envelope from her hands as she resisted. She saw herself
+sobbing over her failure and Angel's lost hopes. That picture mustn't
+come true! The key attached to the watch-chain, she had removed from the
+safe door, and had laid watch and all on a buffet. Beside them she had
+placed the door key. Now, as the chambermaid chattered in the corridor,
+and O'Reilly made light of his loss, Clodagh moved faster than any
+figure in a moving picture. She snatched up everything on the buffet,
+pushed all into the safe, softly shut the steel door, concealed it with
+the panel which slipped readily into its groove, and fled into the
+adjoining bedroom.
+
+Lights from across a court showed that the sole doors were those of a
+bath and a clothes-closet. There was no way out from the bedroom.
+Entrance and exit to the suite were to be had only through the sitting
+room.
+
+"I might have known," Clo reflected. Too late she recalled that through
+the nearest door had appeared the couple in evening dress. She was
+caught like a mouse in a trap (poor mouse, who had meant to gnaw the
+encircling net!) caught unless--unless! Her heart gave a leap as she saw
+the one way out.
+
+The night was warm, and the window had been opened wide to let in the
+blue dusk. Light from opposite windows giving on the court shone upon a
+stone coping. It was broad, as copings go, broad enough for some white
+roses dropped from a window above to lodge without falling farther. It
+was this conspicuous splash of white on the dark stone which put into
+Clo's mind the word "unless."
+
+The chambermaid was rattling her pass key in the lock. If the thing were
+to be done, it must be done now! Yes, that stone coping ran all the way
+along under O'Reilly's window as well as those opposite. It was quite
+fourteen or fifteen inches in width, Clo thought, and was placed twice
+as many inches below the window sill. It would be easy to step down on
+to the ledge; and only a short distance away was the window of the next
+room, a room in the suite occupied by the couple she had seen. That
+window was open, like O'Reilly's. Clo could be sure of this, because the
+lace curtains were blowing out in the draught from some other window.
+They were of thick lace covered with embroidery, and if one could catch
+hold of a curtain as it blew the stuff wouldn't tear. As for the stolen
+envelope, it was safe in one of those odd, new-fashioned pockets of
+hers. Hastily she made it more secure with a big pin, by which she
+fastened it to the cloth of her dress. Thus both hands were free. But it
+took courage to start!
+
+"Oh, I must, I must do it!" she thought, her body ice, her soul aflame.
+"It's for Angel! If I don't look down, I shall be all right. And even if
+I fall and smash like an egg I'll be no worse off than before she saved
+me. I'll be back just where I was that day."
+
+Uninvited, the chambermaid had followed O'Reilly into the next room. She
+was talking volubly, hoping that he'd mislaid the door key, that it
+hadn't been stolen. Clo, in making her dash for the bedroom, had quietly
+closed the door between, but she could hear that the two were talking.
+
+Anyhow, the girl tried to think, it was the first step that cost! Once
+outside the bedroom window, plastered against the wall, the danger of
+being caught was over. O'Reilly would search the clothes-closet, and
+peer into the bath. Then he would suppose that the bird was already
+flown. Never would he dream that a girl would dare what she meant to
+dare.
+
+Oddly enough, that reflection decided Clo to act. For the moment, fear
+left her free. She stepped briskly over the window sill with one foot,
+and landed on the ledge. It felt solid, almost comforting; but as she
+groped for it with the other foot, horror caught her again, poured
+through her veins like iced water and made her heart feel a dead thing.
+She tried not to think of anything except that kind curtain flapping in
+the wind. She clung to the window-frame with fingers so damp that they
+slipped on the stone. Holding on for dear life--yes, life was dear, now
+it hung by a thread!--she edged along, her cheek scraping the wall as
+she moved. One step, two, three--another would take her so far that she
+must let go of the window frame. Could she reach the blowing curtain? A
+few moments ago it had seemed to beckon. Now she depended on it the
+white folds eluded her hand. If the wind dropped, she was lost. She
+couldn't help thinking of all the things she wished not to think of. She
+thought of that immense depth below her narrow perch. She didn't believe
+the man or woman lived strong-minded enough to forget it!
+
+As she reached out with her free arm for the curtain, a light sprang up
+from the room she had left. O'Reilly was there, searching for her. It
+had been simple to say, while she stood on a solid floor, that he would
+not look out of the window. But he might look out: he might hear her
+feet shuffling along the ledge. If his head appeared now, she would
+fall.
+
+The girl began to shake all over like a winter leaf on a high branch.
+She would have to go, she thought. But the curtain was blowing very
+near, so near that she ventured another step. The lace brushed her
+fingers. With a last effort she grasped a fold. Courage came back. Now
+she had let go of O'Reilly's window frame. She had passed on beyond hope
+of return, and yet she had no firm grasp upon the curtain. Before it
+could give the support a rope gives a climber, she must slowly,
+patiently, draw it toward her inch by inch until she had it taut.
+
+"Angel, are you praying for me?" she wondered. Because she could not
+pray for herself. She could only count. Dimly, she felt it odd that it
+should calm her nerves to count each time her fingers closed upon the
+curtain. But it did calm them.
+
+"Seven, eight, nine, ten." The fold of lace began to be taut. Drawing it
+toward her, she started on once more on that endless journey of a few
+inches. Thank heaven, the light in O'Reilly's bedroom had been switched
+off. The man must have given up the chase, and gone back to the sitting
+room. For the present she was safe from him. But what a queer word
+"safe" was, just then. "Eleven, twelve, thirteen." Thanks to the curtain
+rope, she had almost reached her goal. "Fourteen, fifteen." She had got
+so far that she could let the curtain go and fling her arms over the
+window sill. She threw her body upon it, and lay still for an instant,
+utterly spent now the strain was over. But was it over? No, not yet. If
+her feet slipped from the coping, she would have no strength for the
+effort of climbing in at the window. She would hang for a minute and
+then--drop.
+
+"The papers," she reminded herself, for a mental tonic. "They're so
+nearly safe now. Brace up, Clo! A minute more and you'll be out of
+trouble."
+
+The room beyond was, like O'Reilly's, unlighted. Thank goodness, there'd
+be no squalling lady's maid to give an alarm. Clo allowed herself time
+to breathe, resting on the window sill. Then she prepared to draw
+herself over. Wrapping the curtain round her right hand, and clutching
+the lace firmly with her left hand, she found a heavy piece of furniture
+just inside the window. It seemed to be a dressing-table with a mirror
+suspended between two spiral posts. Grasping one, Clo pulled the table
+closer, till it refused to move. This gave a lever on which she might
+depend. She clung to the curtain and post, till she could plant first
+one knee, then its fellow, on the window sill. It seemed an easy thing
+to do, and would have been easy had not her strength been nearly spent.
+Her quivering muscles responded slowly to this last call, but they did
+respond. Soon she was kneeling on the window sill. Then one foot was
+over, groping for the floor. She had just found it when a key grated in
+a lock, and before she could hide behind the curtains a door opened
+wide. A flood of light streamed in from the corridor, and outlined her
+white form against the blue background of the night.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+THE NUMBER SEVENTEEN
+
+
+To go back meant death, and the loss of Beverley's papers. Besides, she
+had been seen. For once, Clo's wits refused to work. Like a frozen
+flower, she remained motionless in the window.
+
+The figure in the doorway was that of a man. The light coming from
+behind made his face a blank for her eyes, but the girl saw that he was
+taller than O'Reilly and of a different build. Perhaps it was the owner
+of the suite, he who had gone out with the beautiful woman. The man made
+no move. He stood in the doorway as if rooted to the floor. "My God!"
+Clo heard him mutter.
+
+"The fool takes me for a ghost," she thought. "Now's my chance, before
+he plucks up courage!"
+
+Down came the other white shoe on the carpet with no more noise than a
+rose-petal falling. Then followed a second of indecision. Should she
+risk pushing the man aside, and fleeing past him into the hall? No, her
+touch would break the spell. She must go on with the ghost-play, and
+vanish in the dark!
+
+Light from outside showed her the open door of an adjoining room. Thence
+came the draught which had set the curtains blowing. Clo took a few
+floating steps toward the man, then dodged aside, and disappeared into
+the room beyond. Softly she closed the communicating door and slid the
+bolt. Almost opposite where she stood opened a cross passage leading to
+a wing of the hotel. With a bound she reached it, not daring to look
+behind, yet listening with the ear of the hunted for the hunter, as she
+ran. Coming to a staircase the girl plunged down it two steps at a time.
+On the floor below, however, she ventured to moderate her pace. This was
+the dinner hour; most of the guests would be in the restaurant, or out
+of the hotel for the evening; but there would be servants about. Clo
+forced herself to descend sedately, flight after flight of stairs, not
+daring to enter a lift. At last, when it seemed that she had come to
+earth from the top of Jacob's ladder, the stairway ended. Timidly
+following a passage that opened before her, she ventured into a wide,
+important hall.
+
+There was a cloakroom in the hall. Ladies were going into it and coming
+out. Clo heard music in the distance and saw a marble balustrade. This
+balustrade was for her a landmark. She knew by it that she must have
+reached the story above the ground floor, and that the large corridor of
+the cloakroom opened on to a gallery overlooking the main hall. She had
+glanced up and admired that marble balustrade when she first entered the
+hotel. She had seen also a wide marble staircase leading up to the
+gallery. It must be near, she thought, but it was a way of exit to
+avoid. If O'Reilly were on guard below, or even if he had merely
+telephoned her description to the office, she and the stolen envelope
+would be promptly nabbed in the hall below. She had dared too much to be
+tamely taken now. Mirrors were let into the panels of the wall, and Clo
+paused before one, pretending to straighten her hat. She wanted time to
+make up her mind.
+
+The ladies who left their wraps in this upstairs cloakroom must be
+dining in private rooms on the same floor, she thought. "Out there in
+the gallery their men will be waiting for them," the girl told herself.
+"And maybe that's where my man is waiting for me!"
+
+One of these ladies, opening a gold chain bag to pull out her
+handkerchief, dropped a bit of paper with a number on it--Clo's
+favourite number, 17. It fluttered close to her feet; she stooped and
+picked it up. Common sense told her that the numbered slip was a
+cloakroom check. It might mean salvation. She walked leisurely into the
+cloakroom, though her nerves were a-jerk like the strings of a
+jumping-jack. "My cousin has asked me to come and fetch her wrap," she
+explained to a bored attendant. "There's a draught through the dining
+room. This is her check."
+
+The woman accepted it without a word. She presently produced a long wrap
+of black chiffon, lined with blue. "Number seventeen. Here you are,
+miss." So speaking, she removed the duplicate check, which had been
+pinned to a frilled hood of the cloak. At sight of that hood a weight
+lifted from Clo's heart. It was more ornamental than practical, but it
+would be immensely useful to her. If she had been given her choice of
+cloaks, she couldn't have done better. Seventeen was bringing her luck.
+
+"Oh, I believe I'd better leave my hat!" she said to the attendant, as
+if on a second thought. Unsuspiciously the woman took it, pinned a bit
+of paper to the lining, and handed the duplicate to Clo. "Nobody's got
+seventeen now, so I'll give it to you again." This seemed a good omen:
+seventeen for the second time! With the cloak over her arm she sauntered
+out of the room. Then back she went to the foot of the stairs, where was
+a quiet niche behind a big, potted palm, and close by was one of those
+convenient panel mirrors. Thus refuged, Clo slipped into the wrap, and
+arranged the floppy hood. It was far from becoming, for the frill fell
+almost to her eyes; but it hid the tell-tale red hair, and showed little
+of her face save the end of an impudent nose and the tip of a pointed
+chin. The cloak, made for a taller figure than Clo's, came nearly to her
+feet, and holding it together the white dress became invisible.
+
+"Now for it!" she thought, like a soldier who goes "over the top" to
+charge the enemy. Head down, hood flapping, cloak floating, she sailed
+along the corridor and out into the gallery beyond. Yes, there was the
+marble staircase, and below was the great, bright hall; but in this
+disguise she could pass O'Reilly if he had assembled half the detectives
+in New York. So she tripped down the stairs, sedate, unhurried as the
+care-free girl whose cloak she had borrowed. Arrived in the hall, she
+knew her way out, and could hardly subdue the triumph in her voice as
+she said "Taxi, please," to an attendant porter.
+
+"Where shall I tell him to go, miss?" came the question as she stepped
+into the cab; and for half a second she hesitated. By a clock she had
+seen in the hall it was just half-past eight. There would be time to go
+home, time for Angel to open the envelope and see if the contents were
+right, time to tell Angel her own adventures, and time to rest before
+keeping her tryst with Peterson.
+
+She gave the number of the house in Park Avenue where Roger Sands lived.
+The door of the taxi shut with a reassuring "click." It was heavenly to
+lean back against the comfortable cushions! She ought to be entirely
+happy, entirely satisfied. Perhaps it was only reaction after so many
+hopes and fears, this weight that seemed to press upon her heart. Yet it
+was an obstinate weight. It grew heavier as the taxi brought her nearer
+home.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+A QUOTATION FROM SHAKESPEARE
+
+
+    "Not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
+    Perplexed in the extreme."
+
+The words describing Othello's torment rang in Roger Sands' ears.
+
+The words kept time with the purring throb of the motor that sped him on
+his wife's errand. Certain it was that he had not been easily jealous!
+
+He had married a girl with a secret to keep, and he had never questioned
+her. He had made her a queen; and he was her loyal subject. She ruled
+him and his kingdom. Only to-day he had given her a queen's pearls. They
+were his atonement for an hour of distrust. How had she rewarded him?
+Roger reviewed the afternoon, since the presentation of the pearls, and
+there were details which he saw in a new light. So desperate had been
+her mysterious haste that she had broken the rope of pearls, and had not
+even stopped to pick up the scattered splendour.
+
+Roger Sands' heart had been hard toward his wife when they met. He had
+settled upon a policy of silence for the present, while in
+self-protection he watched developments. He agreed quietly to Beverley's
+request that he should fetch the pearl-stringer, though feeling a cold,
+sick certainty of her motive in making it.
+
+He went, as he had given his word that he would go, to 27 Elm Street,
+Yonkers. Miss Blackburne herself answered his ring: and when the name of
+Clo Riley was mentioned, she said at once that she would accompany Mr.
+Sands. Roger was kept waiting only while Miss Blackburne took leave of
+her mother, gathered together her materials, and packed a small bag; for
+it was clear that, if the pearl-stringer were to finish her work in one
+sitting, she would have to spend the night in Park Avenue.
+
+The little woman, whose face seemed almost featureless to Roger Sands,
+was interested in the man as well as in the mission. The pearl-stringer
+had often heard of him in various ways; and her work took her into a set
+who knew, or gossiped, about his private affairs. She had listened to
+women's talk concerning Mrs. Sands, "the girl from nowhere," and, though
+Miss Blackburne was "good as gold," she did enjoy a little spicy
+scandal. She could in future make herself quite interesting to some of
+her regular clients by telling how she had worked for Mrs. Roger Sands;
+and not only for their sakes, but her own, did she look forward to this
+"job."
+
+Secretly, Ellen Blackburne planned some day to write a volume of
+reminiscences, and she had a "feeling," as she sat in discreet silence
+beside Roger Sands in his car, that to-night she would get material for
+particularly good notes. She was conscious that his nerves were tensely
+strung. "It's just as if he were sitting in a thunder cloud charged full
+of electricity, with me getting some of the shocks," she told herself,
+thinking of her notebook, where she would make entries when she got
+home.
+
+It was nearly a quarter past eight when Roger's latch-key opened the
+door of his apartment. Miss Blackburne was impressed, not only by the
+magnificence of the hall, but by the originality of its decoration.
+
+Roger, having let himself and the pearl-stringer in with his latch-key,
+regretted that he had done so. He did not want to see Beverley alone
+just then. It would be better to have her summoned by a servant. Miss
+Blackburne was too observant of tiny details not to notice that he
+stepped back and pushed the electric bell outside the door, which he had
+not yet closed. And when he said to the butler: "Please tell Mrs. Sands
+that I have been able to bring back Miss Blackburne," the small student
+of character guessed at once that he wished to avoid meeting his wife.
+
+The hall was large, and furnished like an extra drawing-room, therefore
+it was not inhospitable that Roger should leave the pearl-stringer alone
+there, with the excuse that he must dress for dinner. He was, he
+explained, going to his club. As he made this announcement, however, and
+before the butler could carry the message to Mrs. Sands, a dazzling
+vision appeared. It could be no other, Miss Blackburne felt, than Mrs.
+Sands herself; and she was right, for Beverley had dressed with unusual
+speed, yet with unwonted pains, in order to be ready for Roger's return.
+
+The vision came into the hall before the butler had been able to deliver
+the message, and his wife's arrival whilst the man was present gave
+Roger an opportunity he would not miss. There was a question he wished
+to ask the old servant, in Beverley's hearing, but he had not expected
+the chance to come so soon. The butler retreated, stepping aside
+respectfully to let Mrs. Sands pass. But before the man could efface
+himself, and before greeting Beverley, Roger exclaimed, "Oh, by the by,
+Johnson, has any one been here since I went out?"
+
+"Yes, sir," the butler replied, "one gentleman has been. He----"
+
+But the vision intervened. "The gentleman wasn't a visitor, Johnson,"
+she said, a sharp note in her voice, almost an agonized note. "You ought
+to explain to Mr. Sands that he came only to bring Miss Riley home."
+Then she hurried on, snatching the explanation from the servant's mouth,
+though she had ordered him to make it: "The poor child came back quite
+done up, nearly fainting. She had to be helped in, almost carried. The
+man stayed just long enough to hear that she was better. Is it Miss
+Blackburne you've been lucky enough to find, and bring back to me?"
+
+All this rushed out in a breath. The lovely lady in white and silver
+smiled at the small person in brown pongee. But Roger Sands was not a
+man easy to play with.
+
+"Yes, it is Miss Blackburne," he quietly answered. "What was the
+gentleman's name, Johnson? Did you hear it?"
+
+There was a trifling pause while the servant replied. Mrs. Sands was
+still faintly smiling, a mechanical smile, and her eyes were suddenly
+dull as glass.
+
+"Yes, sir, I believe I heard the name mentioned," Johnson admitted. "I
+thought it was the same as the young lady's; Riley or O'Riley. As Mrs.
+Sands remarks, sir, he wasn't exactly calling, so the name wasn't
+announced. It only reached my ears."
+
+Roger looked straight at Beverley. The gaze was a challenge. "Was it
+Justin O'Reilly who came?" he inquired; and his eyes said: "if your
+conscience is clean, you'll understand that I'm not trying to extract
+any confession. I give you the chance to clear yourself, here and now,
+that's all."
+
+But Beverley's face was flooded with one of her painful blushes, that
+always came when she wanted them least. She realized, too late, that
+Roger had enquired of Johnson because he suspected, perhaps even knew,
+that O'Reilly had been in the house.
+
+"Yes, it was Justin O'Reilly who came and stopped about ten minutes,"
+she answered, trying to keep her voice as calm as Roger's. "But this
+isn't very interesting to Miss Blackburne. It was good of her to give up
+her Sunday evening! Shall we----"
+
+"Just a moment, please," Roger broke in, still in that deadly quiet
+voice which, it seemed, could betray nothing to a stranger, but for
+Beverley was a knife at her heart. "I must go out presently. Before
+starting to dress I should like to hear the latest news about your
+protegee. She looked all right, and not inclined to faint, when I saw
+her tripping into the house, just before I came in from my walk some
+time ago. By the by I think Mr. O'Reilly must have been with her then.
+He was passing the house, I noticed."
+
+"I don't know anything about that," the answer came slowly. "Clo didn't
+mention seeing Mr. O'Reilly at that time. She rested and went out again
+later. Johnson was speaking of her _second_ return."
+
+Beverley knew that her husband could easily have questioned Johnson
+behind her back, and then have entrapped her perhaps, through her
+ignorance of what had passed. He had chosen instead, to be as frank as
+he was hard; and while she suffered, Beverley thanked her husband for
+cold justice.
+
+"I must dress now," Roger said heavily. "I am dining at my club."
+
+Murmuring some civility to Miss Blackburne, Sands turned away. A moment
+more, and his wife heard his bedroom door shut. At the sound it seemed
+that her heart must die in her breast! She felt a sensation of physical
+sickness, and would have given anything not to have the pearl-stringer
+on her hands. Here the woman was, however, and could not be treated with
+discourtesy!
+
+"You will dine with me, of course, before beginning your work," Beverley
+said, trying to be cordial. But Miss Blackburne smiled and shook her
+head. She had had "high tea" at home with her mother, and could eat
+nothing more, she replied, thanking Mrs. Sands.
+
+"I'll take you to my boudoir," Beverley said kindly to the little woman
+in brown. "The pearls are there. You'll be surprised at their beauty."
+
+Miss Blackburne let her hostess lead the way. "There's a drama here, all
+right!" she told herself. "Has it anything to do with the pearls? But I
+shall know soon, I bet!"
+
+The Vision opened the door of a charming room. The light was already
+switched on, and the new-comer noticed that a door stood wide open
+between the boudoir and the bedroom, which, also, was lighted. Miss
+Blackburne guessed that Mrs. Sands had only just finished dressing in a
+hurry as her husband came into the house. Perhaps, on account of the
+pearls, her maid had been released from duty. Anyhow, someone had
+forgotten to turn off the lights, and ... but Mrs. Sands herself was
+explaining.
+
+"I left the door open between my room and this while I dressed," she
+said, "because of what you see on this table. I thought it might as well
+be here, as anywhere else, all ready and waiting for you."
+
+She made a nervous gesture, and Miss Blackburne saw on the table
+indicated a large oval case of purple velvet, slightly old-fashioned
+looking, and adorned with a splendid gold crown. The pearl-stringer knew
+something about crowns and coronets: duchesses, countesses, baronesses,
+and small fry like that. But this crown was royal. She was going to get
+good "copy" for her notes!
+
+Beverley's hand moved toward the purple case. She was in a desperate
+hurry to get her business with Miss Blackburne over, and escape into the
+hall again. She must try to have a word with Roger before he went,
+though she dared not--literally dared not--go to his room.
+
+"You'll see the pearls, and----" she had begun, when her ears caught the
+sound of an electric bell; a loud, insistent peal.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+THE MYSTERY OF THE BOUDOIR
+
+
+"It's Roger," Beverley thought. "He's ringing for Johnson--perhaps to
+ask more questions!"
+
+"I must speak to my husband," she said to Miss Blackburne. "The pearls
+are in that case. There are two hundred and fifty. About thirty came
+unstrung. You'll see for yourself how they ought to be graduated. I'll
+be with you again in a few minutes."
+
+She flew to the hall, hoping to intercept Johnson before he could reach
+Roger's room. But the man was not on his way there. It was the sound of
+the door-bell she had heard. Johnson was in the act of admitting a girl
+in a black chiffon cloak lined with blue. A large frilled hood pulled
+over the wearer's eyes hid the profile from Beverley. The girl turned;
+it was Clo.
+
+"I'll go with you to your room," Beverley said, controlling her voice
+for the benefit of Johnson, and trying not to show how frantic was her
+haste. It was only when she had noiselessly closed the door of the big,
+bare room, that she dared let herself go.
+
+"What's happened?" she implored. "Why are you dressed like this? Of
+course you haven't got the papers?"
+
+"I dressed like this to make a get-away," said Clo. "I stole the cloak.
+I'll tell you everything by and by. But first, you must find out for
+yourself whether I've got the papers. I've got something--something in a
+thick envelope. That's all I know."
+
+She threw off the cloak of the girl at the Dietz, and unpinned the
+pocket which held the precious package--the pocket which, thanks to the
+pin, had guarded its contents through the whole series of her
+adventures.
+
+Beverley took the large linen envelope, not even thanking Clo. Neither
+noticed the omission.
+
+"Addressed to Justin O'Reilly!" she exclaimed. "It's the right size. But
+what makes you think it may have my envelope inside?"
+
+"Because it was carefully hidden in a safe in the wall. I thought of
+opening it to make sure. There wasn't--enough time."
+
+"I'll open it ... now!" said Beverley. Her words were firm, yet she
+hesitated, and turning, the envelope over, stared at the five
+official-looking red seals. What if it should contain legal documents
+belonging to some client of O'Reilly's?
+
+"Tap--tap!" came at the door.
+
+Beverley laid the envelope on the glass table, where Clo's medicine
+bottles once had stood. Over the red seals she flung her handkerchief,
+lest it should be Roger at the door.
+
+Meanwhile, Clo had answered the knock and revealed Johnson.
+
+"Madam, the lady who came with Mr. Sands wishes to see you immediately;
+it's very urgent," he announced.
+
+"Say I'll be there in a few minutes," she replied. "I can't come just
+yet."
+
+Johnson departed. "Madam will come in a few minutes," he repeated to
+Miss Blackburne, who had been anxiously awaiting him at a half-open
+door. "I think," he added, "she is busy, miss."
+
+"In that case," suggested the pearl-stringer, "perhaps you'd better call
+Mr. Sands."
+
+"Very well, miss, I'll do so." Johnson turned away, and Miss Blackburne
+retreated to the boudoir.
+
+But it occurred to Clo that Roger might be summoned if Beverley delayed.
+
+"Something must be worrying Miss Blackburne," she said. "I wonder if
+it's anything you'd like Mr. Sands to mix up in, or if you'd rather
+attend to it yourself? You know, we've lots of time before ten o'clock.
+If the papers are in this envelope, it's all right. If not, there's
+nothing doing."
+
+Just why Beverley did not want Roger to go to her boudoir she hardly
+knew, unless she feared that a pearl might be missing, and that Roger
+would be more vexed than he was already. Whatever the motive in her
+mind, she felt suddenly impelled to haste. Even with Clo she could not
+leave the envelope. Wrapping it in the handkerchief to hide the address,
+she hurried off with it in her hand.
+
+"You sent for me, Miss Blackburne?" she asked, as she threw open the
+door.
+
+The pearl-stringer stood by the table, looking pale and strange.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Sands," she exclaimed, "you told me the pearls were in their
+case, but they're not. I found it empty. You must have laid them
+somewhere else."
+
+Beverley wondered whether she had become temporarily insane, and had
+hidden the pearls in a place already forgotten. But in her heart she
+knew that nothing of the sort had happened.
+
+"No," she said, answering herself as well as Miss Blackburne, "I didn't
+touch the pearls after I put them away, and brought them in here. Oh,
+please don't tease me! This is too serious!"
+
+"Tease you!" echoed Miss Blackburne. "Why, Mrs. Sands, I wouldn't do
+such a thing! I wish to goodness I'd insisted on your staying till I'd
+opened the case and counted the pearls. I don't think I was ever so
+foolish before! Now, maybe you'll believe that I've sto----"
+
+"No--no!" exclaimed Beverley, calmed by the other's distress. "Of course
+I believe nothing so foolish. Even if you--what nonsense to speak of
+it!--but even if you wanted the pearls, you couldn't hide them. Let me
+think! Let me go back in my mind over everything that happened. I was in
+the next room practically all the time when I wasn't here. The door was
+open between. I could have seen any one who came in. Oh, the pearls
+can't have been stolen. There's been nobody to steal them."
+
+"What about our little friend, Clo Riley?" Miss Blackburne asked. "Could
+she possibly know anything? Mightn't she help with some suggestion? I
+thought hers one of the brightest, quickest minds I ever met. Indeed, I
+owe my life to its quickness."
+
+Beverley forgot to answer. The pearl-stringer's words had sent her
+thoughts travelling along a new path. Suddenly she became aware that she
+had deceived Miss Blackburne and herself. When she made that statement,
+she had not reflected. Clo's return, in O'Reilly's company, now seemed
+so long ago that she had not cast her mind back so far in connection
+with the pearls. She had thought of what she had done since O'Reilly's
+refusal of her request, and his departure. She had pictured herself as
+having seen the pearls in their case since then. But she had not done
+so. She had seen only the closed case, and had naturally taken it for
+granted that the pearls were in it. As a matter of fact, she had not
+actually seen them since she herself closed the velvet case. Could Clo
+possibly have dashed into the boudoir and hidden the pearls?
+
+"I'll speak to Clo," she finally replied, with a dazed look after a
+silence that puzzled Miss Blackburne.
+
+"Please stay here. I'll be back in three or four minutes, and bring Clo
+with me, if she's well enough."
+
+Clo, denuded of the stolen cloak, had flung herself upon the bed to
+rest, and call back the force of her vitality for a later effort. Her
+nerves were throbbing like hot wires, and she jumped at the opening of
+the door.
+
+"Oh, I'm glad it's you!" she sighed, at sight of Beverley. "Have you
+opened the envelope?"
+
+"The envelope!" Beverley repeated. "Oh, Clo, I thought nothing on earth
+could have put it out of my head for a second. But Miss Blackburne
+called me to say the pearls have disappeared. I forgot the envelope. I
+must hurry back. Did you do anything with the pearls, on your way out?"
+
+Clo looked aghast. "Good gracious, no!" she cried. "I went through the
+kitchen, and down the servants' elevator. Oh, Mrs. Sands--Angel--you
+don't think----"
+
+"Nonsense! You're as bad as Miss Blackburne!" Beverley cut her short. "I
+thought that, for some reason, you might have hidden them. Now I know
+you didn't. Clo, this is the most terrible day--except one--in my life.
+I must find the pearls or Roger will never forgive me. And only a few
+minutes ago they were nothing, compared with the papers!"
+
+Clo's wits, drowned in horror for an instant, came to the surface again.
+"What if O'Reilly took the pearls for revenge!" she blurted out. "Did he
+know--was he anywhere near them?"
+
+Beverley, who had been standing by the bed, sank down upon it, and
+stared. "He did know," she said slowly. "And--and he was alone in the
+room with the pearls for some minutes if I remember rightly. You see,
+Sister Lake arrived. She was angry about your being out. I tried to
+soothe her. It was no use. She left, bag and baggage, in injured
+dignity. O'Reilly was in my boudoir. Oh, Clo, it must be he who took the
+pearls!"
+
+The girl herself had said it: yet, when the words were repeated by other
+lips than hers, it gave her a shock. O'Reilly's face rose before her
+eyes. "I don't believe he did it!" she was surprised to hear her own
+voice cry out aloud.
+
+"You suggested it yourself!" exclaimed Beverley.
+
+"I know," the girl confessed. "The idea popped into my head. But it
+can't be true. He's not that sort, whatever else he may be!"
+
+"He went off furious with you, with us both," Beverley said. "It must
+have been he who stole the pearls. There's a strong motive--something
+for him to hold over us, and force us to give the papers back."
+
+"If we've got them!" cut in Clo.
+
+Beverley sprang up. "I'm lost in this!" she faltered. "There are too
+many things against me. I can't cope with them all at once. I must go to
+the boudoir and get that envelope, whatever happens."
+
+"What shall I do?" asked Clo.
+
+Beverley was already at the door, and had opened it.
+
+"If I don't come back to you in five minutes, it will be a sign I want
+you to come to me."
+
+When the door had shut behind her Angel, the girl felt she would be
+thankful for the five minutes' respite. She lay flat and straight as a
+figure on a marble tomb, yet she could not rest for thinking of
+O'Reilly. His eyes seemed to be looking into hers. By shutting them, she
+could not shut him out. When she thought that the five minutes must have
+passed, she slid wearily off the bed.
+
+"I must go to Angel," she said half aloud. But she had not got to her
+feet when, without knocking, Beverley flung the door open.
+
+Instantly Clo guessed that some new and worse misfortune had happened.
+
+"This time it's the end. I give up!" Beverley panted. "The envelope has
+gone with the pearls. I hadn't even opened it. I don't know what was
+inside."
+
+"Gone! The envelope gone!" gasped the girl. "Gone--from--where?"
+
+"From the table in the boudoir," Beverley answered. "I laid it there
+when Miss Blackburne told me about the pearls. It was there when I came
+to you. Miss Blackburne hasn't left the room. She didn't even see the
+envelope. I've searched everywhere for it--but it's gone."
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+DEFEAT
+
+
+All Clo's efforts and schemings wasted! She had tricked, stolen, risked
+her life, in vain. The envelope was gone.
+
+"You can't have looked everywhere," she insisted. "The thing must have
+got tucked out of sight--unless Miss Blackburne ... but no, she's as
+good as gold!"
+
+"I'm sure you're right about her. She is good," said Beverley.
+"But ... she says nobody came into the room while she was
+there.... I asked her. Otherwise I might have thought that
+Rog----" The sentence broke. "I wanted to see you alone," Angel began
+again, "so I came back. You've been so wonderful to-day, you've made
+me depend upon you. If there were anything to do, you'd be the one
+to do it. But there's nothing ... is there? I can't see any light,
+can you?"
+
+"Let me help you to look for the envelope," said Clo.
+
+"Come, then," said the other, in a toneless voice, unlike her own.
+Together they went to Beverley's boudoir, where there was a little
+interlude of greetings between Clo and Miss Blackburne. Then, Clo was
+beginning her search for the lost envelope when Roger Sands slowly
+passed the half-open door. Beverley had left it ajar, not because she
+wished to call him (that desire had fled with the news about the
+pearls), but in order to see that he went out. She stood with her back
+to the door at the moment, but on the wall directly opposite hung a long
+mirror. Clo guessed, by the slight start Angel gave, that she must have
+caught sight of his reflection. He turned and came back.
+
+"If he asks to see the pearls!" was the thought in Clo's head. Her eyes
+met Beverley's and read the same terror there.
+
+Roger spoke to Miss Blackburne, pausing on the threshold.
+
+"What do you think of the baubles?" he asked with elaborate
+carelessness. "Are they above the average?"
+
+The two girls held their breath. Would the pearl-stringer give the
+situation away?
+
+But Miss Blackburne, true to herself, was discretion incarnate.
+
+"I've not seen enough of the pearls, yet, to form an opinion," she
+replied, "but my impression is that they must be altogether
+exceptional."
+
+"I'm glad your impression is good," said Roger. He turned to his wife.
+"I may not be back till late. Don't sit up for me. Good-night."
+
+Beverley followed him into the hall.
+
+"Roger!" she pleaded. "You're doing me a most horrible injustice. I
+can't bear it!"
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked.
+
+"You can't help knowing," she said, "It's about Justin O'Reilly. You
+think I----"
+
+"Have I accused you of anything?" he challenged, brows raised, eyes
+blank.
+
+"No. But----"
+
+"Your imagination seems to be even more lively than your conscience is
+sensitive, my dear girl. What have you done, that I should accuse you?"
+
+"I've done nothing, Roger, that you----"
+
+"All right, then. Why borrow trouble? I must hurry, or I'll miss my
+appointment. Good-night again. Sleep well!"
+
+Roger left her without a backward glance. Beverley felt that she was
+caught in the folds of a vast net.
+
+What was it Clo had said, that day? "There was once a mouse who gnawed a
+net----" Poor mouse, it had tried to-day to gnaw the net! It had gnawed
+one small hole, but even before the prisoner could struggle to get free,
+the hole had closed again. Still, the mouse was ready for another bout.
+It was a brave, bold mouse--a subtle mouse! For some strange reason her
+sole hope was in Clo.
+
+During her absence the girl had searched the boudoir from end to end.
+Her sharp eyes had not missed a cranny big enough to hide a pin, to say
+nothing of a rope of pearls or a large envelope with five red seals.
+Both the pearls and the envelope must have been stolen. Were there two
+thieves, or only one?
+
+With Roger's departure, and Beverley's return, the three women could
+talk with freedom, especially after Mrs. Sands' announcement to the
+butler that he would not be needed to serve dinner.
+
+Miss Blackburne reiterated that she knew nothing of the envelope. She
+had had no thought for anything except the pearls. Their loss put her
+into an embarrassing position unless Mrs. Sands intended informing Mr.
+Sands and the police at once of what had happened.
+
+"I saw by your face you didn't want me to speak when your husband came
+in," she said to Beverley, "so I hedged, and did the best I could
+without lying. I realized that you would want to be the one to break the
+news. But I suppose you have told him now? He'll send the police, or
+some private detective, won't he, to take evidence while I'm here?"
+
+"I do want to get them back," Beverley answered. "But I haven't told my
+husband, and we can't have the police, or even a detective. That must
+seem not quite fair to you, Miss Blackburne. Whatever happens, you
+shan't suffer, I promise. I believe I know who has taken the pearls. If
+I'm right, it isn't exactly a theft. Perhaps if I go the right way about
+it, I can get them again. What's the good of worrying my husband, when
+in a day or two there may be nothing to worry about?"
+
+"M-m-m," muttered Miss Blackburne, "I think you're wrong, Mrs. Sands. I
+have a feeling that Mr. Sands suspects."
+
+"That the pearls are gone? How can he?" Beverley cried.
+
+"I don't know, I only feel," the little woman repeated.
+
+As the two had talked, Clo watched Miss Blackburne's face. It was with
+her as the pearl-stringer had said of herself: she "did not know--she
+could only feel" that the good little woman had something on her
+conscience, something that she was obliged to hide.
+
+Clo had by this time succeeded in clearing her mind from cobwebs.
+
+Suddenly a light shone like flame upon the mystery. "Peterson!" was the
+name that printed itself upon the girl's brain. "If he could have got
+into the flat, he could have stolen both the pearls and papers. Does
+Miss Blackburne know something, and if she does, why won't she tell?"
+
+It occurred to Clo that, if she could have a few words with Miss
+Blackburne alone, perhaps the puzzle might be solved.
+
+"Angel," she said, "if there's been a thief in this house, perhaps he's
+here still. With two manservants, you ought----"
+
+Beverley waited for no more. Any straw was worth catching at. She
+couldn't wait to ring for Johnson. She rushed out of the boudoir, hoping
+to find the butler in the dining room. He was there. And while she
+explained that something had been stolen, that the flat must be
+searched, Clo got the chance she had wanted.
+
+"Miss Blackburne, you're my friend!" she exclaimed. "This means life or
+death to me. I'm responsible for that envelope we've lost. Do, for the
+love of heaven, tell me what happened in this room while Mrs. Sands went
+out and left you here alone."
+
+The pearl-stringer remained silent. She met Clo's great, imploring eyes
+without shrinking, but the girl saw that she breathed hard.
+
+"If you don't want me to die, tell me!" Clo implored.
+
+"My child, I would tell you, if I could," she stiffened herself. "But,
+you see," she finished, "there's nothing to tell. So, I can't."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+THE BROWN TRUNK
+
+
+Clo realized that there was no more to be said, since to accuse Miss
+Blackburne of lying would make matters worse. When Beverley came back,
+to say that the servants had been questioned, and the flat searched in
+vain, the girl had made up her mind what to do next. There were two
+things, one of which had better be done at once; the second, which must
+be done before ten o'clock. The first was to settle with Miss
+Blackburne; and get rid of her. The second thing was to keep the
+appointment with Peterson. It was more important, Clo thought, to see
+him than to see O'Reilly, though she expected Angel to suggest an
+immediate talk with O'Reilly in person or by telephone. She hoped to
+bring Beverley to her point of view.
+
+"Of course, I rely on you to let me clear myself if you don't find your
+pearls the way you hope," Miss Blackburne reminded Beverley. "I'm sure
+you'll let me know when you have news. Meanwhile, there's nothing to
+stay for, is there? I might as well be with mother."
+
+It was arranged that she should go home in a taxi, to save the time
+which must be wasted, waiting for Beverley's car. Mrs. Sands paid, of
+course, and gave the pearl-stringer a present of fifty dollars, "to make
+up for her trouble."
+
+It was not late, as time goes, but on this night of stress and ordeal,
+nine-fifteen was a terrible hour. The instant Miss Blackburne was out of
+the house, the two girls turned to each other, and clasped hands.
+
+"Thank God, she's gone!" Beverley breathed. "Now I'll call up Justin
+O'Reilly, and----"
+
+"Wait till I tell you something I've thought of, then you can decide,"
+Clo cut in. "I believe that horrible creature, Peterson, may be the
+thief, not O'Reilly. How he could have got into the flat, and out again,
+I can't see. But he probably specializes in stunts like that! He has the
+face--and the fingers--for it. I shouldn't wonder if he terrorized poor
+Blacky. She's not cut out for a heroine, is she? Maybe the man was under
+the table in the boudoir. Maybe he warned her that, if she gave him away
+afterward, he'd do for her and all her belongings. That would scare
+Blacky blue! She worships her mother. I haven't got the tangle
+straightened out in my head yet. But this new idea looks good to me, so
+far. If Peterson's the thief--if he's pocketed the papers and the
+pearls--it seems to me he'll try and make a quick get-away. Let us jump
+on him now, at the Hotel Westmorland, before he expects us, and before
+bothering with O'Reilly. These pearls must be well known. Peterson can't
+get rid of them, even to a fence, for any big sum. I think he'd
+exchange, for money, and less important jewels that he might dare to
+sell. Haven't you got something that your husband's forgotten--or won't
+mind if he doesn't see you wear?"
+
+"Yes," Beverley answered. "I have six or seven hundred dollars by me.
+There's a diamond muff-chain, too, and a tiara that Roger himself thinks
+too old looking for me. He proposed to have the stones reset--but that's
+months ago. He has forgotten, I'm sure, for he's given me so many other
+things since. I could bargain with the chain and tiara--and perhaps a
+few bracelets and rings."
+
+"Let me take the jewels and money in a bag to the Westmorland. I can
+leave it at the desk while I do the bargaining. It's best to be on the
+safe side, if you're a mouse holding up a ferret! Besides, there's a
+question we've 'most lost sight of in this business, Angel. We're not
+sure the right papers were in the envelope I took from O'Reilly. They
+might be something else he valued."
+
+"Why, yes!" cried Beverley. "For a moment I counted on their being the
+right ones--the ones I must give Peterson----"
+
+"Well, I've only to see him to make sure," Clo went on. "He may lie, but
+I know I can tell by his face. Angel, waste no time on O'Reilly. There's
+not one second to lose! Get your jewels together, and I'll go."
+
+"We'll both go," said Beverley. "Don't object; it's useless! I won't
+have you go alone. You've done more than enough already. I'm a wretch to
+let you slave for me, your first day out of bed! But I daren't call at
+Peterson's alone, not because I'm afraid for myself, but because of
+Roger. Besides, I can depend on you to keep your head."
+
+"Very well," Clo consented. "The first thing that occurs to me is this:
+we must put on plain coats and hats. My new hat I left at the Dietz: I
+had to! But you'll lend me something. And we'll not 'phone for a taxi.
+Best slip away and not let the servants know we've gone. If you've a
+latch-key, we may go and even get back without a soul being the wiser."
+
+"Come to my room and choose wraps for us both, while I collect the money
+and what jewels I dare spare," Beverley said. As she spoke, she ran in
+front of Clo, and opened a safe in the wall not unlike the hiding place
+Clo had rifled at the Dietz.
+
+The girl selected two automobile coats, one of gray silk, the other of
+brown, both intended to match the colours of dresses, but inconspicuous
+and plain. There were toques made of the same material, with thin veils
+attached. Clo took for herself the brown coat, which was shorter than
+the gray, and pulled the brown toque well over her red hair. By this
+time Beverley had stuffed a roll of greenbacks, a chain of platinum set
+with brilliants, half a dozen sparkling rings and bracelets, and a
+flexible diamond tiara, into a dark leather handbag. Clo helped her into
+the long gray coat which covered her evening dress; and the two stole
+out of the flat like flitting shadows. They went down in the elevator,
+but the hall-porter was off duty for the night, having left a young
+understudy in charge.
+
+The girls walked fast to the nearest taxi stand, Clo trying not to
+breathe hard and so remind Angel of her weakness. As the chauffeur
+slowed down in front of the Westmorland, Beverley held up her wrist
+watch for Clo to see.
+
+"Twenty-five minutes to ten," Clo assured her confidently. "I only hope
+he won't have gone out. Now, you wait for me in the taxi, Angel, while
+I----"
+
+"No, you're to wait for me," Beverley decided. "I can do more with the
+man than you, because there are things you don't know. But don't wait
+here. It's too far away. I might need you in a hurry. We'll keep the
+taxi, so there'll be no delay in getting off, and we'll both go into the
+hotel together. You came this afternoon, so you had better ask for
+Peterson. We can make up our minds what to do next when we get the
+answer."
+
+A moment later a tall young woman in a gray motor cloak, and a small
+young woman in a brown cloak, entered the hotel. The veils that covered
+their close-fitting toques and fell over their faces were not thick, yet
+in the electric light the gauze took on a disguising glitter. The pair
+in their plain wraps, were not conspicuous figures even in a third-rate
+hotel like the Westmorland, and the clerk whom they approached was not
+moved to curiosity.
+
+"Mr. Peterson? He's in; came in over an hour ago, and mentioned that he
+expected a caller; party to go right up."
+
+"He's expecting us, one or both," Clo cut in hastily. "What's his
+number?"
+
+"658, top floor," said the clerk. "The elevator's just over there to the
+left--see?"
+
+"We'll go up together," Clo whispered, "and then, if you really think
+best to see the man alone, I'll hang about somewhere in the hall till
+you come out and call me."
+
+Beverley made no reply. Already she was fathoms deep in thought. The
+musty-smelling lift shot them up to the top floor; Beverley, stepping
+out ahead of Clo, had the air of having forgotten her existence. The
+girl's anxiety deepened. The best she could do was to guide her friend
+through dimly lighted, dark-walled corridors, to the right number, 658.
+Beverley had, before they left the taxi, given the money and jewels into
+her companion's hand. Clo's over-strained nerves began to take their
+revenge. This shabby hotel was an evil place. To her it seemed that each
+closed door hid something secret and sinister. They met no one between
+the elevator and Peterson's room. Involuntarily, the two paused an
+instant in front of number 658 before knocking. No sound came from
+within. If Peterson were in his room, apparently he was alone. Beverley
+tapped--a sharp, nervous tap.
+
+"Come in!" cried a voice which sounded far off, as if the speaker called
+from the furthest corner of the room, or from the depths of a wall
+cupboard.
+
+"Keep near, but not too near," whispered Beverley, and opened the door.
+To her surprise and Clo's there was no light in the room; yet it was not
+really dark. The blind on the curtainless window opposite the door was
+rolled up to the top, and let in light from the brilliantly illuminated
+street six storeys below. As Beverley passed in, Clo caught a glimpse of
+a man's figure comfortably seated in a high-backed armchair in front of
+the window. She even recognized the mean profile of Peterson, outlined
+in black against the luminous square of a window pane, and anger pricked
+her that he should dare receive Mrs. Sands without rising. Then the door
+shut, and Clo, obeying the order to "keep near, but not too near," took
+a few steps down the corridor. Within sight of the door, but not within
+hearing of voices on the other side unless they should rise to a shout,
+she hovered uneasily.
+
+It was hateful to Clo that Angel should be alone with the ferret-faced
+man behind the closed door. He might choke Beverley to death with those
+sly, thievish hands of his, and the sentinel outside would not know.
+"Why was he sitting there in the dark," she puzzled, "like a spider in
+his web, waiting to pounce?" She could not put away the impression that
+there was something more terrible even than Beverley had expected. No
+one came or went. After all, she had been there only four or five
+minutes, though the time seemed long. It might easily be half an hour,
+Clo reminded herself, before she could hope to be called into
+consultation, or invited to hand over the precious bag. She looked
+wistfully toward the nearest end of the corridor. There, in front of a
+window, was a big brown trunk. She would go and sit on that trunk to
+rest. It was well within sight of Peterson's door. Her eyes would never
+leave that door! With renewed life she could spring up as she saw it
+opened by Angel.
+
+"Yes, I've got to the limit!" the girl said. She was so spent that her
+feet seemed to have weights attached to them as she dragged herself
+toward the trunk. Reaching it, she dropped, rather than sat, upon the
+rounded top. No sooner had she touched the lid, however, than she
+bounded up as if she had received an electric shock. It seemed that
+something inside the trunk had given a leap, and that the great box had
+quivered under her. At the same instant the door of number 658 was
+thrown open. Beverley came out.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+MURDER
+
+
+There was something not natural in Beverley's air and manner. Normally
+she had a proud, erect carriage. Now she came stumbling out of Number
+658, and with drooping head, and shoulders bent, crept into the hall,
+leaving the door half open behind her; but she stopped abruptly and
+turned back. Clo, forgetting her own weakness, and forgetting the brown
+trunk, hurried to join her friend. But Beverley seemed to be unconscious
+of the girl's presence. She stood as far as possible from the door,
+closed it without noise, and was walking away again when Clo's arm slid
+round her waist.
+
+"Darling, what has he said, what has he done to you?" the girl implored.
+
+Beverley seized Clo by the wrist, and pulled her toward the lift.
+
+"Hurry!" she whispered. "We must get away as soon as we can, for Roger's
+sake!"
+
+"But what about the papers, and the pearls?" Clo persisted. "Had
+Peterson taken them? Did he give them to you?"
+
+"I don't know whether he had them or not. Nothing matters now, except to
+get home," was the astounding answer. Clo could hardly believe that she
+had heard aright. Ten--five minutes ago, nothing in the world mattered,
+except the papers and the pearls. Now they had lost all their
+importance!
+
+"You don't want them any more?" she gasped.
+
+"Want them?" Beverley echoed. "Yes, more than ever, I want them. But
+it's too late. Don't ask me why. Only--come!"
+
+Clo could not argue with Angel, or oppose her, in such a mood as this.
+She wished that she had taken her own way, and gone herself to "have it
+out" with Peterson. She felt that nothing he could have said or done
+would have forced her to give up without at least knowing whether or not
+the booty were in his possession. As she kept pace with Beverley she was
+screwing up her courage to one last, desperate coup. She would make it
+in spite of Angel!
+
+They came to the elevator, but before Clo could put out her hand to
+touch the electric button, Beverley drew her farther on, to the
+staircase. They went down swiftly and in silence. The entrance hall of
+the hotel smelt of tobacco. They descended into it behind the elevator.
+A group of men surrounded the desk where they had inquired for Peterson,
+and the two girls in motor coats and veiled toques passed without
+catching sight of the clerk who had sent them to 658. Three or four men
+of the commercial traveller type glanced at the gray and brown figures;
+but the elevator had at that moment released a golden-haired, black-eyed
+young woman in a pink evening dress. She became at once an object of
+interest, and the plainly-cloaked pair vanished unnoticed.
+
+The taxi, which had been ordered to wait, was at a distance. They
+hurried to it. It was Clo who opened the door of the cab, and almost
+pushed Angel in!
+
+"Shall I tell him to go to the corner where he picked us up?" she asked.
+Beverley nodded, and sank back against the shabby leather cushions. This
+was Clo's moment. She had led up to it, and decided what to do. First
+she placed the bag of jewels in Beverley's lap. Next she spoke to the
+chauffeur, giving clear directions. Then she slammed the door shut, and
+stepped back upon the sidewalk, motioning to the man to start.
+
+"Angel will be so surprised, she won't know what to do for a minute,"
+the girl thought. "By the time she pulls herself together she'll realize
+it's too late to stop me."
+
+As fast as she dared, Clo retraced her steps to the hotel. She hated to
+leave Beverley alone, but between two evils it seemed that she had
+chosen the less. When the taxi stopped Beverley would get out; and then
+she would have a few blocks to walk before reaching home. As for the
+bag, she could hardly forget it in the cab. The thing was too heavy to
+fall from her lap without being noticed. She would have the jewels safe,
+while Clo tried to bargain with ferret-face on promises of reward.
+
+By the time she had argued away her worst tremors, Clo had again entered
+the Hotel Westmorland. She had decided to say that her friend had
+forgotten something if a question were asked; but the desk was still
+surrounded with its group of talkative men, and she walked to the stairs
+at the back of the hall as if she were a guest of the hotel. Thence she
+toiled to the top.
+
+It was only when she approached the door of Number 658, and saw once
+more the brown trunk at the end of the hall, that Clo remembered the odd
+side-issue of her adventure. She hesitated between the need for haste
+and the wish to solve the mystery that troubled her. But it would take
+only a minute to run to the trunk, to sit on it again, and see what
+happened! Meanwhile, any one who went in, or came out from, Number 658,
+must do so under her eyes.
+
+Curiosity conquered. Clo tip-toed to the trunk, sat heavily down on the
+rounded top, as she had done before, and nothing happened. There was no
+sign of movement within; and Clo wondered if, after all, the thing that
+had jumped under the lid had been created by her own jumping nerves.
+Suddenly the impulse came upon her to try and open it. She seized the
+corner of the rounded lid, but it remained immovable. She picked at the
+metal hasp which covered the cheap lock. It did not yield, but her
+fingers--or she fancied it--touched moisture. The girl shrank back and
+looked at her hand. Thumb and forefinger were smeared with blood.
+
+The girl felt sick, and might have fainted comfortably. "Pooh!" she
+scolded herself. "You've cut your finger. Serve you right for not
+minding your own business. Go to it now, and no nonsense, if you
+please!"
+
+Goading herself to courage she marched to the door of 658 and knocked.
+No answer came, and the girl's heart sank. It seemed too bad to be true
+that Peterson should have escaped during the few minutes spent in
+putting Angel into a taxi. Besides, she had scarcely gone beyond
+eye-shot of the hotel entrance.
+
+"Perhaps he's asleep," thought Clo. She turned the handle, and to her
+surprise the door yielded. She had expected to find it locked. As
+before, the room was unlit save by golden reflections from the street
+below. The girl opened the door wide, and deliberately looked in.
+Strange; there sat the man in his easy chair in front of the window,
+with his mean profile outlined against the light, just as he had sat
+when Beverley had answered the summons to "Come in!" One would say, to
+look at him, that he had not moved an inch.
+
+Clo's theory had gone wrong. She had urged her conviction upon Angel
+that he was the thief; that, if he were the thief, he would "make his
+get-away" in haste. Yet here he sat, in the dark, asleep.
+
+She stepped across the threshold, felt along the wall for an electric
+switch, found it, and flooded the room with light. Still the figure in
+the chair did not stir.
+
+Clo glanced round the squalid room. Peterson had begun to pack. A
+suitcase lay open on the narrow bed. The wrinkled gray-white counterpane
+was half covered with scattered clothing.
+
+"If he's fast enough asleep, I can go through everything," she thought,
+"including his pockets!"
+
+The girl walked in, and closed the door resolutely but softly, her eyes
+always upon the figure in the chair. She mustn't begin to search the
+place without making sure that Peterson was not playing "possum." It
+would be awful, when her back was turned, to have him pounce upon her
+like a monkey. She tip-toed across the room, and stopped in front of the
+easy-chair, within a yard of the stretched-out feet, where she could
+take a good look at the sleeper. His head was bent down over his breast,
+and the girl had to stoop a little to peer into the face. But a glance
+sent her reeling back against a chest of drawers. The top of the man's
+head had been crushed in by some blunt instrument. His forehead and the
+side of his face turned toward the window were covered with blood. His
+shirt and coat were soaked with it, in a long red stripe, and a dark
+pool had formed in a vague heart-shape on the patterned carpet.
+
+Clo had never before seen a dead man, yet she did not doubt that this
+man was dead. He could have been dead for a short time only. The blood
+on the livid face glistened wet in the electric light. It had hardly
+ceased to drip from the wound in his head.
+
+For a time Clo stood still, as if frozen. But slowly the power to think
+came back. To her own horror and disgust she found herself wondering if
+Beverley Sands had killed Peterson. It would have been a tremendous blow
+for a woman to strike, but Beverley was desperate, and she was strong.
+She had boasted of her strength of arm only the other day, to Sister
+Lake, who had tested and admired the splendid firmness of her young
+muscles. Besides, the man had been caught unawares, and had been struck
+from behind; the position of the wound showed that. On a small table by
+the chair lay the weapon. It was a long pistol, Clo did not know of what
+kind or make, but it looked old-fashioned; and there was no question as
+to the way in which it had been used. Someone had taken it by the muzzle
+and struck with the butt end, which was coated with blood and hairs.
+Perhaps the pistol had not been loaded, or perhaps the murderer--(no,
+"avenger" was the better word, with that fear knocking at her heart!)
+had not dared fire because of the noise.
+
+Clo's mind began to work more quickly. She pieced details together. The
+person who had killed Peterson could not have picked up the pistol from
+that table without being seen by him, therefore it had been lying there
+before the murder. Most likely it had lain on the bed, among the strewn
+things which ferret-face had begun to pack. In that case any one
+entering the room might have spied and snatched it, unsuspected by the
+man in the chair.
+
+"If my poor, tortured Angel didn't do this, I can bear anything!" Clo
+told herself. "It wouldn't so much matter for me. I'd have killed him
+for her sake--I believe. But for her it would be horrible!"
+
+The girl remembered the blood on her fingers, which she had found after
+touching the lock of the brown trunk, and this remembrance gave her
+hope. The murderer must have passed that way, whereas Beverley had not
+been near the trunk. "Thank goodness for one good bit of evidence in
+case it's ever needed!" Clo thought. "Who knows but the murderer was
+hiding in the trunk, and jumped in his fright when I plumped down on it?
+Well, if he did, he must either be smothered by now, since the trunk's
+been locked since then, or else he's escaped. Oh, Angel, how could I
+dream for a minute it might have been you? And yet if this wretch was
+dead then, who called 'Come in?'"
+
+A wild impulse to run away seized the girl. She started toward the door,
+but stopped half way. No, she would not fail Angel. The man was dead. He
+could do her no harm. If Beverley's pearls, or if Beverley's papers,
+were in this room, no matter where, even if she had to touch that
+blood-stained coat to search the pockets, she would not go without them.
+
+The dark blind ought to be pulled down, because from some high window
+she might be seen and identified afterward, if trouble came of this
+night's work. To reach the blind she had to step over the feet which
+sprawled beyond the chair; and stretching up her arm to touch the broken
+cord, she was conscious that her dress brushed the dead man's knees.
+
+Next she went to the bed, and began turning over Peterson's miserable
+belongings. She prayed that, by a miracle, she might come across the
+sealed envelope. As for the pearls, if the murderer were of the Peterson
+type, to steal them would have been his first thought. But--it would
+need a stout-hearted criminal to go through the pockets of his victim,
+and if the motive were other than theft, it might be that the pearls and
+papers were still on the body. If Clo failed to find them elsewhere she
+would have to ransack those pockets. The thought was too horrible to
+dwell upon. Frantically she tossed over the contents of the suitcase,
+lifting and shaking every garment scattered on the bed. She peered under
+the pillows; she pulled out the drawers of wash-stand and
+dressing-table; but there was nothing to be found there, not even a
+letter, not a torn morsel of paper which could serve Beverley's cause.
+Clo's spirit groaned a prayer for strength when at last--sick and
+shaking, her palms damp--she had to set about the pillage of the dead
+man's pockets. Some she needed merely to touch with her finger ends, to
+make sure that they were empty. Others had to be searched to their
+depths: and the girl felt convinced that she would die if in the horrid
+business she plunged a hand into some unseen sop of blood.
+
+From a waistcoat pocket she pulled out a small leather cigarette case,
+still warm from the wearer's breast--another proof, if she had let
+herself think of it, that he had not long been dead. In the leather
+case, behind a store of tightly packed cigarettes, was a card--the
+cheapest sort of visiting card, on which, scrawled in pencil, was the
+name Lorenz Czerny. On the back of this card, in a different
+handwriting, but also in pencil, a memorandum had been scribbled. A
+glance showed Clo that it consisted of names, abbreviated addresses, and
+the hours of appointments, or perhaps of trains. She did not stop to
+examine the card thoroughly, but slipped it into her pocket for future
+reference, and went on with her task.
+
+The sealed envelope she sought was too large not to protrude over the
+top of any pocket of a man's indoor coat; but Clo reflected that the
+envelope might have been destroyed, and the contents distributed, or
+folded into smaller compass. With this idea she spared herself nothing
+in her quest; but the sole reward she had (save for the cigarette case)
+was the finding of a paragraph cut from a newspaper, a roll of
+blood-stained greenbacks, which she hastily replaced, and a torn silk
+handkerchief. The newspaper cutting told of Roger Sands' magnificent
+house in Newport, whither he and his "beautiful young bride" would
+shortly move. This also Clo annexed, in order that no connection should
+seem to exist between Beverley Sands and the man Peterson when the
+police got to work. The handkerchief she took from the coat pocket into
+which it had been untidily stuffed, in order to search underneath. But
+the nervous jerk she gave pulled out something else also--something
+small, which fell to the floor with a tinkle as of a tiny stone striking
+wood, when it touched a chair leg, and rolled under the chest of
+drawers. Clo had not time to see what the thing was. There was only a
+flashing glimpse of a pebble-like object as it disappeared. But her
+heart leaped at the thought of what it might be. Thrusting the ragged
+handkerchief into a pocket already examined, she had just stooped to
+peer under the clumsy piece of furniture when a telephone bell began to
+ring.
+
+The girl sprang to her feet, quivering and alert. It seemed that the
+bell had rung almost in her ear. Someone was calling for Peterson!
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+"KIT!"
+
+
+Somehow Clo got to the telephone, which was placed on the wall by the
+door, and her hand trembled on the receiver before she realized that the
+bell which rang was in the adjoining room. There was no communicating
+door between, but the wall must be almost as thin as cardboard, for the
+noise seemed to smite her ear-drum. For an instant Clo's relief was
+overwhelming; but as the shrill noise struck her nerves blow after blow,
+they rebelled. Her brain refused to work until, suddenly, blessed
+silence fell.
+
+Once more she had a sense of being saved. The power of recollection came
+back. She knew that she had been going to look for the thing which had
+dropped out of Peterson's handkerchief, and rolled out of sight. She
+went down on her knees for the second time, but only to spring up, and
+stand quivering like a creature at bay. Again the telephone bell was
+ringing, and now the sound was in the room. The call was for 658. She
+answered at once.
+
+"Hello!" she saluted the unknown.
+
+"Hello!" came the response, in a man's voice. "This is Chuff calling.
+Are you Peterson?"
+
+"Peterson is in the room," returned Clo, after an instant's pause, in
+which her heart missed a beat. "But he can't come to the 'phone."
+
+"Oh, say, is that you, Kit?" the man wanted to know.
+
+Clo was almost incapable of thinking; but she was vaguely aware that the
+accent was slightly foreign. "Yes," she ventured. "It's Kit."
+
+"Nice thing you are! I've been trying to get you the last ten minutes.
+Thought your room was next door to his. Couldn't you hear your own
+'phone from Petes'?"
+
+"I've just come in," said Clo.
+
+"You're late. Anything wrong? Your voice sounds sort of queer."
+
+"I've got chewing gum in my mouth," said Clo "What do you want to say to
+Pete?"
+
+"I want to know if he's got the papers."
+
+Clo's blood rushed to her head. This looked like a wonderful chance to
+tap a secret, if she didn't lose it by giving the wrong answers.
+Beverley Sands' whole future might depend upon the next few minutes.
+
+"Hold the line a second or two," she said. She needed to think.
+
+If she replied that Peterson had the papers, embarrassing questions
+might be asked. If she said that he hadn't, the man at the telephone
+might end the conversation before she had learned enough to help Angel.
+"I'll try hedging," she decided, and began again with a tentative
+"Hello!" For an instant there was no response, and Clo was sick with
+fear lest she had been cut off. But luck was with her. The
+foreign-sounding voice began again: "Well, is Pete there this time?"
+
+"No," said the girl. "Pete is--packing. He wants me to say it isn't much
+after ten. He's expecting to get the papers any minute now."
+
+"He 'phoned me he'd made ten the time limit. Didn't he tell Olga that
+Stephen would sure be done for if she didn't hand over the real docs by
+ten o'clock sharp?"
+
+"Olga!" ... "Stephen!" ... Clo felt that she was hearing things she had
+no right to know.
+
+"The lady's had her hands full all the afternoon and evening," she
+answered carefully. "I suppose you know what's been going on?"
+
+"Don't know a damned thing since Pete 'phoned some little skirt had
+brought around the wrong papers to the hotel. Tell him to quit his
+packing and show up at the 'phone."
+
+"He's gone out this very instant," said Clo. "A boy has come to the door
+to say there was someone to see him downstairs. Maybe it's the right
+one. He won't be long anyhow. But I'm just as glad to have a chance for
+a word with you while he's out of the way. Seems sort of funny he didn't
+put you wise about the excitement, you know where."
+
+"You mean Park Avenue?"
+
+"Yes. I can't talk in the 'phone the way I would if the wall was
+thicker. Didn't Pete tell you about the present of pearls the lady got
+from her husband?"
+
+"What pearls?"
+
+"I can't give you their whole history, but maybe Pete could, if he
+wanted to."
+
+"What makes you think so? Have you got on to some frame up, or are you
+kidding?"
+
+"Well. Somebody relieved the lady of them. That's what's made her busy
+the rest of the time. Might account for documents being late."
+
+"Say, what are you giving me? Has Pete made a deal on his own?... Pearls
+instead of papers?"
+
+"Hold the line again for a jiffy, and I'll go through his togs."
+
+"All right. Look sharp."
+
+Clo let the receiver hang loose, and for the third time went down on her
+knees before the chest of drawers. Thrusting her arm underneath, she
+passed her hand over the dirty carpet. Lodged against the wall at the
+back, and in a corner, was something round and hard, a thing which
+seemed to be about the size of a small filbert. The girl brought it out
+between thumb and finger, freed it of dust, and saw an immense pearl.
+
+"That settles that!" she said to herself. Peterson was the thief. But
+had he stolen the envelope as well as the pearls? Oh, if she could only
+galvanize the dead to speak! But the next best thing was to speak to the
+telephone. The truth might come from that direction, bit by bit, piecing
+the different parts of the story together.
+
+Clo, getting to her feet again, was struck with a sudden luminous idea.
+
+"Kit," the woman she was personating, the woman apparently set to watch
+Peterson, had found out about the pearls. Either she had believed him a
+traitor to the "gang," or she had wanted the pearls for herself. In
+either case she had killed him to get them; and one pearl had escaped to
+tell the tale of its fellows.
+
+Yes, "Kit" had the pearls. But where were they, and where was she? The
+woman was not in her room, because the telephone bell had been ringing
+there and she hadn't answered. What if she hadn't been able to get back
+to her room after the murder? Kit might have locked her door when she
+came to have a chat with Peterson. It was likely enough there'd be
+things in her quarters which she wouldn't want a prying chambermaid to
+see! Perhaps she'd seen Peterson looking at the pearls. Perhaps, when
+she knocked, he had thrust the broken rope back into his pocket with the
+loose pearls. Perhaps Kit had put him off his guard, chatting of other
+things, while he packed. But no, she had caught him unawares when he sat
+as he was sitting now! Clo pictured her offering to help him pack. He
+had lolled comfortably while Kit worked. Then, she had come behind him
+and dealt that frightful blow with the butt of his own pistol. A strong,
+determined woman, Kit!
+
+Clo remembered how she and Beverley had walked slowly from the corridor
+of the lift into Peterson's corridor, looking at the numbers over the
+doors; and remembered how she had said to Angel, "This must be the right
+way to turn." Even after that, they had paused a moment for Beverley to
+gather up her failing courage; and if Kit had then been in the act of
+opening the trunk, she could easily have hidden herself inside before
+the owners of the voices she heard had turned the corner. It must have
+given her a beautiful fright when someone sat down on the trunk with a
+thud! No wonder she had jumped, and made the big box shake!
+
+Kit's actions later could be plausibly accounted for, too. She must have
+guessed that one of the women she had heard speaking (had seen, perhaps,
+if she contrived to peep from the trunk when their backs were turned)
+had been in Peterson's room. How she must have wished that she'd taken
+time to lock his door on the outside! As it was, she couldn't have been
+sure that an alarm would not be given downstairs. Her one thought must
+have been haste; and Clo doubted that, if she had forgotten her key in
+Peterson's room, she would have ventured back to get it. No, she would
+have crept out of the trunk, and looked at her dress in the dim light to
+see whether blood stains showed. If she wore dark clothing, she might
+have run the risk. Clo pictured her locking the trunk, and following, as
+closely as she dared, the cloaked figures in gray and brown; pictured
+her pausing in the background to see whether the pair stopped at the
+desk, or went away with their secret; pictured her relief when they
+passed on in silence; and the bid for freedom she must have made a
+minute later.
+
+"I bet, by the time we were in our taxi, that woman was out of this, and
+legging it as fast as she could go. She wouldn't have taken a cab, for
+fear of being traced," Clo finished her reflections. She stared at the
+pearl in her hand.
+
+"Awkward for me if Kit gets to the man at the other end while her double
+chats to him at the Westmorland!" the girl thought, and flew back to the
+telephone. "Are you there?" she called.
+
+"You bet your sweet life I'm here. Did you find the beans?"
+
+"I've found something I must bring to you. Where's the safest place?"
+
+"What's the matter with here?"
+
+"It won't do," she answered. "It's on account of Pete!"
+
+"Well, then, come to Churn's. When'll you be there?"
+
+This was a blow. Clo was angling for an address, with street and number.
+But she would not be downed by one disappointment. "Same reason holds
+good for Churn's," she said. "Can't you think of some place Pete doesn't
+know? And think quick, or he'll be back."
+
+"Think quick yourself! We'll go round to your own house, you dub! Pete
+ain't sure where your real pitch is--unless you've blabbed."
+
+"I may have dropped something that's put him wise," the girl persisted
+in desperation. "I tell you I'm not talking to hear myself talk when I
+ask for a new place."
+
+"Krantz's Keller, then, eleven thirty."
+
+"Right for Krantz's Keller. But I can't be sure of eleven thirty. I'll
+have to keep an eye on Pete till I know what he's up to. Maybe I can
+'phone you there. What's Krantz's number?"
+
+"Can't give it to you without looking it up. Haven't you got the book
+there?"
+
+"No. Somebody must have nicked it."
+
+"Ain't there one in your own room next door?"
+
+"Yes. But say--a fool thing's happened. I locked my door when I came in
+to Pete's, and I've dropped my key."
+
+"Find it, and go look at the book. Jake's got mine. I'll call you up in
+your room in five minutes. Then if Pete's back it won't matter. See?"
+
+"Yes. But----Have you gone?"
+
+There was no answer. Clo could do nothing save hang up the receiver, and
+begin to search for a key which, despite her elaborate deductions, might
+be in "Kit's" pocket for all she knew. Luck was with her once more,
+however. On the floor by the mantelpiece lay a key, almost hidden in the
+deep fur of a mangy, goat-hair rug. Clo might have wasted twice the time
+in her search, had she not stepped on it.
+
+"I'll make the best of a bad bargain," she promised herself. "If I must
+go to Kit's room, I won't throw away a single second."
+
+She fastened Peterson's door on the outside, and fitted the key she had
+found, into the lock of the door at the left, in front of which stood
+the brown trunk.
+
+The key served, as she had felt certain it would. Hastily she locked
+herself into the room, and switched on the light. It was a mean little
+room, a facsimile of Peterson's in most of its features, but a woman's
+clothing hung from hooks on the door, and on the bed and chairs and
+dressing table a woman's belongings were flung untidily about; hats,
+gloves, collars, and a handbag of jet and steel beads. Kit must have
+hated to leave that bag, thought Clo. She drew the ribbons, and took a
+hasty peep at the bag's contents. There was a soiled suede purse, and in
+that purse, mixed up with a few greenbacks, there were some papers. Clo
+dared not stop to examine them. She could only hope that they might give
+clues which she had failed to obtain from the telephone.
+
+There were four or five frocks hanging on the door, showy blouses and
+bright-coloured skirts; but Clo searched in vain for pockets. In the
+chest of drawers, which was the twin of Peterson's, was a certain amount
+of underclothing, much trimmed with cheap lace. There were silk
+petticoats with torn frilling, and shoes and slippers. But nothing was
+marked with name, or even initials. Kit, though gaudily coquettish in
+her taste, was apparently careless in her habits. Clo no longer visioned
+Kit large, masculine, and determined, a tigress woman. Instead she saw a
+lithe, cat-like creature, strong, no doubt (it had taken strength to
+strike that blow and Clo would have staked her life that it had been
+struck by Kit) but not big or massive.
+
+The five minutes grace must certainly have passed before Clo had come to
+the end of her inspection, but the telephone was silent. This struck the
+girl as ominous, for it might mean that Kit had appeared in person at
+the other end of the line. It might mean that some trap was being laid
+to catch Kit's double.
+
+"If she turns up, and tells everything, they can't let me get away with
+what I know, even about Krantz's Keller," Clo told herself. "They'll
+have to send someone to watch, especially if they think I'm a 'tec,
+who's found Peterson's body. They won't know what I'm like. All the
+same, if they don't call me up in just one minute more, I must make a
+bolt. I'll count sixty, and--see what happens."
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+THE VOICE THAT DID NOT SEEM STRANGE
+
+
+What happened was that the telephone began ringing in the next
+room--Peterson's room. It began when Clo had counted up to forty.
+
+She had hoped not to go back to the room of the dead man. She had
+searched it from end to end. But now she knew the thing would have to be
+done.
+
+Already the jet and steel bag hung by its ribbons over her arm. Clo
+switched off the electricity, and let herself out into the hall. Before
+she had finished her count of sixty seconds she was once more locked in
+Peterson's room. So confidently had she expected to hear the same
+foreign-sounding accents that she almost dropped the receiver and
+started away when her "Hello!" was answered by a strange voice.
+
+Yet--was it a strange voice? As it went on to ask: "Is this Mr.
+Peterson?" Clo had a strong impression that she had heard the voice
+before. Assuredly it was not the one which had talked to "Kit," but it
+sounded astonishingly familiar. Though she could not yet identify the
+tones recognition was only a question of instants.
+
+"This is Mr. Peterson's room," she replied. "He is--here. He wishes me
+to speak for him."
+
+"I had better tell you before we go further, then, that I'm talking for
+Mr. John Heron. When you have explained that, Mr. Peterson will decide
+whether he'd rather come to the 'phone and attend to the business
+himself."
+
+Clo was glad of the pause. "John Heron!" That was the man Peterson had
+mentioned during her second conversation with him. He had said that
+Roger Sands was "working for John Heron" when Roger and Beverley met in
+the train; and she--Clo--had heard the name with a queer thrill which
+she could not understand. So far as she knew, it was strange to her: yet
+she seemed to have heard it in dreams--sad dreams, where someone had
+sobbed in the dark. Through the strenuous adventures which had kept body
+and brain busy the girl had recalled it again and again, since the
+moment when the name had fallen from Peterson's lips. She had wondered
+if she would ever have the "cheek" to ask Angel who was John Heron.
+Whoever he might be, John Heron was in some way concerned with
+Beverley's secret, or Peterson would not have spoken his name in that
+connection.
+
+She answered quietly: "Mr. Peterson allows me to go on speaking for
+him."
+
+"Very well," returned the voice. "Mr. Peterson called Mr. Heron up not
+long ago, to say he could sell him a rope of fine pearls for Mrs. Heron,
+at a low price. He'd heard, it appears, that Mr. Heron wished to buy
+pearls, and he suggested an appointment for to-night. Mr. Heron did not
+receive this message himself; he was indisposed at the time it came, and
+Mrs. Heron took it, but was unable to answer for her husband. He asks me
+to say, in his name, that if Mr. Peterson has some particularly fine
+pearls to dispose of, he'll be pleased to look at them, not to-night,
+but to-morrow morning about ten o'clock, at his hotel, the Dietz."
+
+"The Dietz!" cried Clo. "Now I know who's speaking to me. You're Justin
+O'Reilly!"
+
+Inadvertently she had kept her lips at the receiver. The cry had flown
+to the man who held the line.
+
+"And you're my girl burglar! By Jove, I thought I knew that voice! Are
+you in the pearl business, too? Has Mrs. Sands commissioned you and some
+fellow called Peterson to sell her pearls to Mrs. Heron? Now I begin to
+see light! She tried to make a bargain with me over those pearls. I
+refused in Heron's name and my own. What's her game now, when there's
+nothing left to bargain for, and you've sent the papers back?"
+
+"Sent the papers back!" Clo gasped into the telephone. This coming into
+touch with O'Reilly over the wire had been a shock. But she forgot the
+surprise of it in the new surprise of his last words.
+
+"Wasn't it you who sent them?" he went on.
+
+She stopped to think before daring a reply. O'Reilly had got the papers
+back, or he wanted her to think so, for some reason of his own.
+
+"Well, if you must know, perhaps I did send them," she prevaricated.
+
+"I'm glad to have this chance to thank you for repenting. I felt at the
+time you weren't the stuff trick-confidence-ladies and burglaresses are
+made of."
+
+"I didn't exactly repent," confessed Clo. "I had an object to gain. I'm
+glad the papers weren't lost on the way. You're sure no one had tampered
+with the envelope?"
+
+"Apparently not. The messenger handed it to me sealed up and seemingly
+intact, with the address of my bank on it in my own handwriting. The boy
+wouldn't say how he knew I was staying at the Dietz. He is an ornament
+to his profession! I want you to know that I don't bear malice."
+
+As Clo listened she was surprised at the soothing effect of his voice
+upon her nerves. It was like hearing the voice of a friend. After all,
+why should they be enemies, since of the two O'Reilly was the injured
+party, and had just assured her that he didn't "bear malice?" But he was
+going on to ask what was the "object" she had wished to gain. "Do you
+mean to tell me, or is it one of your many mysteries?"
+
+"I realized I'd gone to work with you in the wrong way," she ventured.
+"Now I need someone's help. I need it horribly. It ought to be a man's
+help. And, except Mr. Sands, you're the only man I know."
+
+She heard O'Reilly laughing. He wouldn't laugh if he could see what her
+eyes saw!
+
+"So you want to call a truce?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, if I could trust you."
+
+"I like that! I wasn't the betrayer. But never mind. Your second
+thoughts are best. And anyhow, you weren't working for yourself. Do you
+really want my help?"
+
+"Don't I? But it would be for--for----You know whom I mean. And you're
+her enemy, aren't you?"
+
+"Not the least in the world. But I can't buy her pearls, and I'm sure
+Heron will refuse to bargain if----"
+
+"The pearls aren't for sale any more. They've been stolen. She thinks
+you took them for a hold-up."
+
+"The devil she does! But you know better. Tell me what you wish me to do
+for you, and I'll do it; I wanted to see you again. You were like a bad
+but interesting dream, broken off in the midst, that I longed to dream
+over again."
+
+"I _feel_ as if I had been broken off in the midst!" said Clo. "I may be
+broken past mending if somebody doesn't pick up the pieces good and
+quick! What I want you to do is to meet me outside the Westmorland. Will
+you? And if so, how soon?"
+
+"I will," came the answer. "I'll be there in eight minutes, with a taxi.
+Does that suit you?"
+
+"Yes. Have the taxi drawn up in front of the hotel, and as it slows
+down, I'll jump in. Give the chauffeur an order--before he starts--not
+to stop, you know, but to go on the instant I'm in. A lot may depend on
+that."
+
+"What mischief have you been up to?" asked the laughing voice, which to
+Clo, in the room of death, seemed to come from another world.
+
+She shuddered as her eyes turned to the figure in the chair.
+
+"Good-bye!" she said, and hung up the receiver without another word.
+
+Eight minutes! It would take her about three to get out of the room,
+down the stairs, and to the front door--if all went well. What was she
+to do with the other five? Now that her mission was ended, she could not
+stay where she was. She had reached, and almost passed, the limit of her
+endurance. One idle moment in that place would surely drive her mad! Yet
+she could not stand in the street, waiting for O'Reilly to come to the
+rescue. Kit and the man who had talked to Kit might be ready to pounce
+upon her there.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+"WHAT'S DONE CAN'T BE UNDONE"
+
+
+"Don't be frightened, Mums! It's only me, back earlier than I expected,"
+Ellen Blackburne announced herself at the door of her mother's bedroom.
+
+Mrs. Blackburne was propped up in bed, reading Young's "Night Thoughts."
+
+"Of course, I'm not frightened!" she reassured her daughter. "I'm only
+surprised. That's what makes my hands tremble."
+
+"I was in hopes you'd have gone to sleep," said Ellen, "and I could slip
+in without giving you a start. I stopped the taxi at the corner on
+purpose."
+
+"I'm delighted to have you back. But why did you bring the pearls home
+to string? Now you'll be sitting up the whole blessed night!"
+
+"Don't you worry!" Ellen soothed her. "I'm not going to sit up. I'm
+going to bed. Shall I leave the door open between the rooms while I
+undress, or shall I just kiss you good-night now, and let you rest in
+peace?"
+
+The little woman had sat down on the edge of the bed, but as she spoke,
+she stood up. It struck the older woman that, for some reason, she was
+in a hurry to get away.
+
+"There's something you don't want to tell me, isn't there, dear?" her
+mother quietly observed.
+
+"Well, you have the most wonderful intuition!" Ellen praised her parent.
+"I believe you could see through a wall. It's only that I didn't want to
+wake you up and make you nervous, so you would have a bad night."
+
+"I shall have a better night if I don't need to rack my brain thinking
+over what might have happened."
+
+"Oh, all right!" sighed Ellen, and sat down again. "You're a grand
+safety valve, you know, Mums, because I can talk to you, and be sure
+that whatever I say will be locked up in your strong box. I meant to
+write all this down in my notebook, with initials instead of names; but
+the diary can't give advice. You can. Only--you're certain we hadn't
+best wait till to-morrow?"
+
+"I shouldn't close my eyes!" said Mrs. Blackburne. "But I can say this
+to begin with: You did the right thing. You always do."
+
+"This is different from anything that ever came into my experience,"
+Ellen answered.
+
+"I told you before I started, I thought I was in for an exciting job. It
+wasn't only that Mr. Sands is a sort of celebrity, and everyone has been
+talking of Mrs. Sands as a beauty. It was the man himself gave me a kind
+of thrilled feeling the minute I saw him. Mums, Roger Sands is the sort
+I could fall in love with, if I was the falling-in-love type. He's
+strong and silent. He isn't a bit a woman's man. I don't know how to
+describe him, exactly. He made me feel as if I longed to do something
+for him. I was mighty keen to see what Mrs. Sands would be like. I
+suppose to see what style of woman he'd worship enough to pick up from
+the gutter."
+
+"Goodness me, child!" broke in Mrs. Blackburne, absorbed. "You don't
+mean that's where she came from? I never heard----"
+
+"No--no! I oughtn't to have used that expression," Ellen confessed,
+"though they tell all sorts of stories about her origin. I daresay none
+of 'em are right, and not a soul knows the truth. People have given her
+a nickname: 'the girl from nowhere.' But you've only to see her to
+realize at once that whatever she was, she must have been brought up
+like a princess."
+
+"Handsome?"
+
+"A dream of beauty. She's worthy of her husband that way, but she's not
+in other ways. That's my excuse."
+
+"Your excuse, lovey? For what?"
+
+"For what I did. But you won't know why I did it, or forgive me for
+doing it, unless I tell you the story as I understand it."
+
+"Go right on, dear, and take your time. I won't interrupt again." So
+Ellen gave her mother a succinct account of all that had befallen her,
+until the fateful moment when she discovered that the pearls were not in
+their case.
+
+"The case empty! The pearls gone! My goodness me!" gasped the old lady.
+
+"I never had such a scare in my life. Mrs. Sands had told me how she'd
+been dressing in her bedroom, with the door wide open into the boudoir,
+because the pearls were there, all ready for me to begin on, if I
+arrived before she'd got into her gown. She either believed the pearls
+were in the case, or else she wanted me to believe she believed it! The
+desperate state she was in, under her pretty manner, made me think maybe
+she was playing some dreadful trick, and after I'd got over the first
+shock of surprise I was mad with that woman. 'She doesn't care if she
+ruins me, so she can save herself from a scrape,' was what I thought
+about her. I made up my mind I wouldn't be catspaw, to pull her
+chestnuts out of the fire."
+
+"What did you do?" breathed Mrs. Blackburne, sitting straight up in bed.
+
+"I rang the bell for the butler. He came to the door in an instant. I
+told him to call Mrs. Sands at once, it was urgent. I thought that would
+fetch her, but it didn't. It was the man who came back. He seemed a bit
+embarrassed: Mrs. Sands was very busy at the moment, it would be a
+little while before she was at liberty. It came into my head that she
+was leaving me alone as long as possible in the room where her wonderful
+pearls were supposed to be, so she could accuse me of making away with
+them, when the truth had to come out, that the pearls were gone. I saw
+just one thing to do. I told the butler to call Mr. Sands, quick. 'Mr.
+Sands is just going,' he said. 'I was ready to help him on with his coat
+when you rang.' 'Well, beg him to step in here one instant,' said I. The
+man went out; and I couldn't have counted ten before Mr. Sands appeared.
+I pointed to the empty case that was open on the table, and explained in
+about a dozen words--I wanted to finish before Madam arrived!--that Mrs.
+Sands had told me to look in the case for the pearls; that she went out
+in a hurry; and when I looked, the pearls weren't there. 'I sent and
+asked her to come,' I went on, 'but she was busy.'
+
+"Well, Mother, the face of that man just broke my heart! It was more as
+if some awful thing he'd half expected, had come true. I might have
+stuck a knife in his heart.
+
+"'Does my wife know you asked for me when she couldn't come?' was the
+first thing he said after he'd stood quite still for a second or two. I
+told him no, I'd taken the responsibility on myself, and I hoped I
+hadn't done wrong.
+
+"'Not wrong,' said he. 'You meant well, I'm sure. Still, I wish the news
+had come to me from my wife and no one else.'
+
+"Then he walked over to the window, and stood looking out. If I hadn't
+known he was there, I shouldn't have seen him. The curtains were drawn,
+not all across, but partly, and it was a sort of bay window, so there
+was room for him to stand behind the curtains, in the shadow they made.
+He hadn't been there two seconds, I give you my word, when the door flew
+open, and Mrs. Sands bounced in.
+
+"'You sent for me?' she asked, and threw a look round the room, as if
+searching for someone. I felt I should die if her husband came out--but
+he didn't. I managed to stammer that the pearls weren't in their case,
+and so on; and it seemed as if my words turned her to a block of marble!
+She just stared at me. 'Maybe you think I stole the pearls!' I said
+right out. She assured me quite nicely that she believed nothing so
+foolish, and that even if I'd wanted to steal the things, I couldn't
+have smuggled them away from the house. (Of course, I could, though, if
+there had been time.) My heart melted to her, I must confess. But I was
+thinking more of her husband. It was up to me to get him out of the fix.
+I suggested to Mrs. Sands calling in Clo, to see what she could make of
+the business. The instant she was gone, out from the bay window stalked
+her husband! By that time I was at the door. I'd opened it for Mrs.
+Sands. I hardly dared glance at him--it seemed so prying. All I
+know--for sure, now--is that he stopped for an instant at the table. He
+had to pass it, on the way from his hiding place to the door. I supposed
+then, when he paused there, that he would be gazing at the empty velvet
+case. But he may have been doing something different--I'll tell you why
+and what, in a minute.
+
+"I stood without moving, and, as he came near the door he stopped again.
+'Miss Blackburne,' he said, 'you've been mixed up against your will, and
+not by any fault of your own, in an unfortunate business. It's a family
+affair, and I feel certain you'll keep your own counsel. Don't think I'm
+trying to bribe you. I'm not. But I should like you to accept this.' My
+arms were hanging straight down at my sides, but he managed to stick
+something into one of my hands. What do you think it was?"
+
+"Fifty dollars?" her mother guessed.
+
+"Fifty fiddlesticks! It was five hundred!"
+
+"My heavens! Enough to pay off the mortgage. But you couldn't possibly
+accept it?"
+
+"I said no. I swore that I'd done nothing to earn a cent: that wild
+horses wouldn't drag from me anything I'd seen, or heard, or even
+imagined, in his house. But Mr. Sands insisted. 'It will give me
+pleasure for you to have the money. It's little enough,' he said. Then
+he walked right out. He must have gone back to his own room instead of
+leaving the flat just then, for I saw him again later. I'll tell you
+about that. But do you think it was wrong to keep the money?"
+
+"In the circumstances, no," Mrs. Blackburne decided. "It would have hurt
+his feelings to give it back. Oh, my dear, five hundred dollars! It's
+like a fairy gift, just when we're needing it so much!"
+
+"Well, I'd got the bills tucked away when Mrs. Sands came running in.
+She made for the table, the way a pointer goes for a shot bird. She
+hadn't a glance for the velvet case. She was searching for something
+else. Oh, Mother, it scared me to see her! She threw everything about.
+She was out of her head. A tall vase of flowers tipped over, and
+splashed water on the books, and even on the velvet case. I don't think
+she knew it had happened. Books fell on the floor. She didn't see or
+care. Then she sank all of a heap into a big chair close by. 'The
+envelope?' she gasped, as if she were choked by a hand on her throat.
+'It was there. Where is it now?'
+
+"I told her I hadn't seen any envelope, which was perfectly true. She
+described it: quite a big, long envelope, made of linen, and sealed up
+with several red seals. I swore over again I hadn't seen an envelope of
+any description. At last she had to believe me. But the worst was to
+come. 'Did you leave the room, for so much as a second, after I left
+you?' she asked, with her eyes on my face. I told her I hadn't stirred
+outside the door; but what I was scared of came next: 'Did any one come
+in?'"
+
+"Oh, lovey, I hope you didn't have to tell a falsehood?"
+
+"That depends on what you call a falsehood," said Miss Blackburne. "I
+hate fibs as much as you do. But it was an awful fix!"
+
+"It was," Mums agreed.
+
+"You see," Ellen went on, to make her position clear, "I had asked Mr.
+Sands not to let his wife know I'd called him in. Later, he pressed that
+money on me, and I accepted it. I felt as if it had bought me, body and
+soul. When he stood by the table, he must have seen that envelope, and
+taken it. Well, now, I ask you, could I give him away?"
+
+"I don't see how you could," wailed the old lady.
+
+"Neither did I. 'Did any one come in?' I echoed, when Mrs. Sands put the
+question. 'Wouldn't I have mentioned it to you the first thing, if any
+one had?' Was that a falsehood, or wasn't it?"
+
+"It was a prevarication," answered Mrs. Blackburne, "and I think I
+should have done the same thing."
+
+"Thank goodness!" sighed Ellen. "That's what I wanted to know. You don't
+blame me, then?"
+
+"I feel you acted for the best. And it's done now!"
+
+"Yes, it's done, and can't be undone," the pearl-stringer echoed.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+ROGER'S APPOINTMENT AT THE CLUB
+
+
+Roger Sands dined alone at his club that night. Many men hailed him as
+he came in, very late, and in sixty seconds he received six invitations
+to dine. He refused them all, however.
+
+It was with the hope of meeting a certain man that Roger had gone to the
+club. He had excused himself to Beverley on the plea of an appointment,
+because he had wanted to be alone, and had no intention of dining
+anywhere.
+
+It was upon an impulse that he had taken the sealed envelope addressed
+to Justin O'Reilly. Afterward, he felt that his whole course of conduct,
+from the moment he had entered the room till the moment he had left the
+flat, was radically wrong. He ought, perhaps, to have shown himself to
+Beverley when she came in, despite Miss Blackburne's appeal. If he had
+done this, he would have learned the truth about that envelope. Seeing
+her husband at such a moment, Beverley must have betrayed herself, Roger
+thought, if there were anything to betray in connection with the
+envelope. Had its concealment been important, she would mechanically
+have sprung to hide it. Had it been left inadvertently by O'Reilly, for
+no concern of hers, Beverley's ignorance of his presence, or her
+indifference, would have cleared her in Roger's eyes.
+
+He could not contemplate confessing to Beverley that he had hidden
+himself and then taken the envelope. She would probably say: "I never
+dreamed that you'd be mean enough to spy upon me! Why didn't you show
+yourself, like a brave man, instead of hiding?"
+
+No, he would not tell Beverley that he had been a witness of the scene
+between her and the pearl-stringer; nor that he was responsible for the
+vanishing of O'Reilly's envelope. Let her think what she liked about its
+loss, just as he--Roger--was free to think what he liked about the loss
+of the pearls! He would wait for Beverley to tell him that the pearls
+were gone. Her carelessness, to say the best of it, her ingratitude and
+disloyalty, to say the worst, gave him the right to keep his knowledge
+to himself. He would wait and see what Beverley meant to do. Then he
+decided to send back the sealed letter to O'Reilly. Ten minutes after
+leaving home he had given the envelope to a messenger, with directions
+to take it at once to the Dietz.
+
+It was when he had thus disciplined himself, that Roger turned toward
+the club. A man who was an old acquaintance of Roger's, and a friend of
+O'Reilly's, often dropped in there on a Sunday evening. Possibly he
+would come that night. Roger had thought of a question to ask. He saw
+that there might be a way to getting even with O'Reilly, a way just as
+efficacious, and more open, than the one he had sacrificed.
+
+While he pretended to dine and read an "evening edition," a hateful
+little voice in Roger's brain chirped suggestions to him. What if
+Beverley had somehow been in O'Reilly's power? What if she had written
+him love letters which afterward she wished to get back, and he refused
+to surrender? What if she had contrived to steal them, and O'Reilly had
+followed, for reprisals? What if, since then, the man had been torturing
+her, and Clodagh Riley (a poor relation of Justin O'Reilly's, perhaps)
+had been acting as a go-between? What if the girl had pretended illness
+as an excuse to bring O'Reilly into the flat, and the man had frightened
+Beverley into giving him the pearls?
+
+He was sipping his demi tasse, and had ceased to expect the man he
+wanted, when that man walked into the room. Before he could sit down at
+a neighbouring table Roger hailed him; a small, dark man of Jewish type,
+a man of forty-five, perhaps, with the brilliant eyes of a scientist and
+the arched brows of a dreamer.
+
+"Hello, Doctor Lewis! I've been hoping you'd blow in!" Sands said
+cordially. "Won't you dine with me?"
+
+"But you've finished. I'd be keeping you."
+
+"I want a talk with you, my dear chap," Roger assured him.
+
+The doctor sat down at Sands' table.
+
+"I'd have got here a long while ago," Doctor Lewis went on to explain,
+"but just as I was leaving the Dietz, where I have a patient, I was
+asked to stop and see--whom do you think?"
+
+"Your friend, O'Reilly, perhaps. Someone mentioned to me that he was
+there."
+
+"No," said Lewis, "not O'Reilly, but as it happens, a friends of
+O'Reilly's, in the same hotel, who suddenly collapsed."
+
+"I can guess, then," replied Sands. "I know the Herons are at the Dietz.
+Your patient was one of those two--Mrs. Heron, I should say. I don't
+somehow see Heron 'collapsing.'"
+
+"My patient was Heron, not his wife. The attack was nothing serious, but
+Mrs. H---- was scared. You and Heron are as fast friends as ever, of
+course?"
+
+"I admire John Heron in many ways," Roger answered, indirectly.
+
+"And he ought to admire you, as certainly he does! A good many people
+thought you risked your life, throwing yourself into that business in
+California, the way you did, Sands. But you came out on top, and brought
+Heron out on top. Your reward was great!"
+
+Roger smiled. He was thinking of the journey back, after his triumph,
+and of Beverley. She had been his reward. Once it had seemed great.
+
+"Have you seen Heron since he got to New York?" said the doctor.
+
+"Not yet," said Sands.
+
+"Well, he's hardly more than just arrived. Heron's a wiry chap. It needs
+a good deal to knock him over. If it had happened last summer, or fall,
+when the big row was on, there'd have been plenty of excuse, as Mrs.
+Heron remarked. It appears the two had been quietly sitting together
+down below, in the big hall, watching the crowd, and waiting for Justin
+O'Reilly to go in with them to dinner. Mrs. H---- sent Heron back to
+their bedrooms to find something she'd forgotten. She got scared at last
+when time passed and neither Heron nor O'Reilly came down. She went to
+see for herself what was up, and found her husband in a fainting fit.
+She 'phoned just as I was leaving my other patient, and by the time I
+arrived on the scene O'Reilly had floated in from the next-door suite.
+He'd been out while the Herons thought he was dressing to dine with
+them. All's well that ends well. Heron will be as brisk as ever in a day
+or two."
+
+"I'm glad to hear that," Roger said, gravely. "As you say, Heron's not a
+man to be knocked over easily. Last year, when I was in California, he
+came within an ace of being shot one night, and never turned a hair."
+
+"His wife was asking him, when he came to, a lot of questions. Heron
+wouldn't want to worry her, naturally. Didn't she have some great shock
+last summer, or fall, while you were out West? A brother who was killed,
+or killed himself?"
+
+"A brother who died suddenly. There was no proof of violence. The young
+man's death occurred the day I left, and not in California, but in New
+Mexico--near the town of Albuquerque, at a house belonging to Mrs.
+Heron. The Herons haven't been married many years," Roger went on. "Not
+more than eight or ten. Mrs. Heron can't be much over thirty. I never
+saw the brother. He was something of an invalid, and lived always at the
+Albuquerque place. His handsome sister stayed with him sometimes. He was
+a few years younger than she."
+
+Sands had the air of giving these details somewhat grudgingly, as a
+concession to the very evident curiosity of Lewis: but having satisfied
+it as far as necessary, he turned the conversation to his own affairs:
+the affairs, in fact, which had suggested to him this meeting with the
+doctor.
+
+"Whenever I have leisure just now I cut down to Newport to see how the
+decorators get on with an alleged 'cottage' I've bought there for my
+wife," he said. "It's been quite an amusement to me for the past few
+weeks. I'm tired of living in an apartment, though ours isn't bad, as
+flats go. I want a house, and I want an old one, or my wife does, with a
+little romance of history attached to it. I'd like to get hold of one,
+as a surprise for her. I know there aren't many in the market. I suppose
+there's nothing good down in your neighbourhood?"
+
+"Well, as you know, Gramercy Park and all round there has been pretty
+thoroughly modernized," said Lewis, who lived in a big new house of
+apartments, not far from Gramercy Park. "The only fine, old-fashioned
+mansion I can think of, that would just suit you is Miss Theresa
+O'Reilly's--a patient of mine--when she's any one's patient. Do you know
+anything about the ancient dame?"
+
+Roger knew so much that he had waited for Lewis entirely for the reason
+that Miss Theresa O'Reilly was a patient of his.
+
+"Isn't she related to your friend, Justin O'Reilly?" he inquired.
+
+"She's a distant cousin. As for the house, Justin feels that it ought to
+be his. I have this from her, not from him. The old lady told me the
+other day that she heard Justin had been hoarding up his money to buy
+the house, and was coming to New York on purpose to talk matters over,
+but she would refuse to see him."
+
+"A cranky old bird!" Sands sympathized.
+
+"You're right. Last year she mentioned to several people, me among
+others, that she thought of offering the place for sale if she could get
+a good price, because the New York climate gave her rheumatism, and
+she'd like to try the French Riviera. But the minute she'd spoken to
+me--a friend of Justin's--she could have cut out her tongue. You see,
+Justin's great-great-grandfather built the house: an Irishman who came
+over before the Revolution, and fought with the Americans against the
+English. It remained in the family till a few years before Justin's
+birth, when his father was obliged to sell through poverty, and move out
+West. This old lady, Theresa O'Reilly, was the purchaser. She was, of
+course, a youngish woman then, though no chicken. The story is that she
+loved Justin's father, and tried to catch him with her money--she was a
+rich heiress. He was on the point of engaging himself when he fell
+desperately in love with a poor girl Theresa employed as social
+secretary, or something of the sort. Out of revenge, Theresa went to
+work in secret ways to ruin Justin Senior, who was a gay, careless
+fellow, without too much money to lose, or too much patience to make
+more. She's said to have put men up to lead him into bad investments.
+Anyhow, she got the house, and California got the man and his family. I
+imagine there was a hard struggle out there at first. Young Justin has
+had to carve his own fortune: his father and mother, and an older
+brother, died when he was a boy. All this long story came out of your
+wanting an old house. It can't have interested you much, I'm afraid!"
+
+"Certainly, there's enough romance attached to that house!" said Roger,
+with a short laugh. "But Miss O'Reilly has changed her mind, and won't
+sell?"
+
+"So she assures me," answered Lewis. "You see, she couldn't be sure
+Justin wasn't standing behind a dummy buyer, now she knows he's
+definitely after the place, and able to purchase for a decent price. I
+take it that in the circumstances she won't sell to any one. Perhaps she
+never meant to when the test came."
+
+"So poor O'Reilly wants the home of his ancestors?"
+
+"He does. I've known of that dream for years. He told me once he'd grown
+up with it."
+
+Roger made his comment upon this: but he determined to write to Miss
+O'Reilly the moment Lewis had gone.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+KRANTZ'S KELLER
+
+
+Clo had been able to think very clearly, while there had been something
+definite to think about, but her brain refused this problem of an extra
+five minutes, which might mean success or failure. She couldn't stop
+where she was; she couldn't hang about in the street, lest the real Kit
+had given the false Kit away to the "gang"; yet to dawdle in the
+corridor, or on the stairs of the Westmorland Hotel, was unthinkable.
+When the murder of Peterson was discovered someone might remember that
+slim girl in brown. The police were diabolically clever--now and then.
+Who could say if they might not trace that girl in brown, and, finding
+her, eventually reach Beverley Sands?
+
+"One minute must have gone, just while I've been thinking of it!" Clo
+told herself. "And Peterson hasn't come alive. Now, if I can only think
+hard enough, and forget him and the silence, for two or three minutes, I
+can start."
+
+But the silence broke. Once more her nerves thrilled to the telephone
+bell. She was standing by the door, her back resolutely turned to the
+figure in the chair, when the sound began. The girl snatched the
+receiver and called "Hello" but no one answered. She must get out
+quickly, at the risk of having to wait in the street before O'Reilly
+could arrive.
+
+"Unless they live close by, they won't have had time to reach me yet,
+even if Kit's given the show away," Clo thought. But of course, "Chuff"
+might have 'phoned from a house round the corner. Peterson might have
+chosen the Westmorland Hotel in order to be near his friends!
+
+Clo locked the door, took out the key, and dropped it behind the trunk
+at the end of the hall. That would not be unfair to the owner of the
+trunk, she thought, for in any case, the blood stains would direct
+suspicion to Peterson's vanished neighbour. The key would be only a
+detail.
+
+As she descended the stairways leading from the sixth story to the
+ground floor, she met two or three men, but they had the air of tired
+commercial travellers going up to bed. Apparently the veiled girl in
+brown had no special interest for them. Next came the ordeal of the
+entrance hall, and passing the desk; but there a new group of men had
+collected. Clo peered through her brown veil, but encountered no curious
+glances. Yet the worst was to come. The eight minutes could hardly have
+run out; besides, O'Reilly might be late. If "Kit" were true to her
+pals, and if she had seen from her hiding place in the trunk, who went
+into Peterson's room, the coming moment might hold the greatest peril of
+all. The girl hesitated at the door, then sprang into the street as she
+might have sprung into a wave.
+
+Plenty of people were passing as she walked slowly away. She had not
+taken many steps, however, when a taxi separated itself from others in
+the double line of moving vehicles, and slackened speed near the curb.
+The window was open, and Justin O'Reilly was looking out. Clo gave a
+welcoming cry, and waved Kit's bead bag. He caught her eye, spoke to the
+chauffeur, and the taxi slowed down, short of the hotel entrance. The
+girl ran back. O'Reilly held the door ajar, and, putting out his hand,
+pulled her in while the car was in motion. He had not forgotten her
+orders, and had instructed the driver. On bounded the taxi, as the door
+slammed shut, and the sudden jerk, before Clo was seated, flung her into
+O'Reilly's arms. He held her for a second or two, and then carefully set
+her by his side.
+
+"By Jove, I'm glad to have you safe!" he said in a warm, kind voice,
+which for some reason made Clo want to cry. "I've a hundred things to
+say and ask, you child or imp, but first of all, where do you want to
+go? Home, or----"
+
+"To Krantz's Keller," Clo finished the sentence. "Do you know where it
+is?"
+
+"Yes," said O'Reilly. "I know, though I've never been. But----"
+
+"I've got to go there," said Clo. "If you don't like, you needn't."
+
+"I do like!" he laughed. "What do you know about Krantz's Keller?"
+
+"I'll tell you that, and other things, when we arrive," said Clo.
+"Please, what time is it?"
+
+"No thanks to you that I have a watch, and can answer that question," he
+thrust at her slyly. The street lights turned to ivory the small face
+from which Clo had pushed back the veil. It was a child's face, though
+not impish or defiant now; but the great dark eyes, it seemed to the
+man, were a woman's eyes. He was conscious that never in his life had he
+been so intensely interested in a female thing. She had tricked him, she
+had deceived and she had robbed him. Yet his dominant feeling was joyous
+triumph at having found her when he had thought her lost. He was happy
+because she had summoned him, excited because they were going side by
+side toward some unknown adventure.
+
+He looked at his watch which had been retrieved from the wall safe, and
+said that the time was twelve minutes to eleven. Krantz's Keller was in
+Fourteenth Street, and they could reach there at the hour, for already
+the cab was moving in the right direction. "Are you in a hurry?" he
+asked, "or shall we go a round-about way and talk things over? The
+Keller won't be at its best till nearly midnight."
+
+"I've a--sort of appointment at eleven-thirty," Clo said. "But I'd like
+to be on the spot before that, for a look round to get my bearings. I
+daresay I can tell you the whole story in twelve minutes. I've learned
+the lesson to-night that almost anything can happen, and you can live
+years in the time that it takes to button a pair of shoes."
+
+"Certainly _you_ can accomplish more in a few brief minutes than any
+other person I ever met! My own experience with you proves that!"
+O'Reilly laughed. But the girl's face was drawn. He remembered hearing
+that she had been dangerously ill. He wished her to realize that he was
+ready to give sympathy as well as help. "I don't want to talk of myself,
+but of you. Tell me what you care to tell. You may trust me."
+
+"You're sure?" insisted Clo. "I'm putting my life in your hands."
+
+"I've just my word to give," O'Reilly answered. "Look me in the face and
+decide if it's worth taking."
+
+Clo looked him in the face, and said, "Yes! I'll tell you everything.
+Please don't ask questions, or speak till I finish."
+
+Since the moment when he had been surprised by her voice at the
+telephone, and she had claimed his help, O'Reilly had thought of
+fantastic things, but they were commonplace compared to the story she
+flung at his head. To make him understand, in ten minutes, why she had
+to be at Krantz's Keller meant that she must spring all her facts upon
+him. Already, without knowing how she had escaped at the Dietz, O'Reilly
+had formed the opinion that she was a girl, not in a thousand but in
+many thousands. Now, listening in silence, he heard her tell what she
+had found, and what she had done, in Peterson's room. She spoke in
+simple words. Yet O'Reilly saw the scene as if his eye were at a
+keyhole; saw the girl realize that she was in the presence of a man not
+only dead, but murdered; saw the battle between horror and courage as
+she searched the room and the pockets of the corpse whose blood-stained
+clothing was still warm. He heard the bell of the telephone. He followed
+Clo into the room next door, and marvelled at the way in which she drew
+information from "Chuff." When the taxi slowed down in Fourteenth
+Street, she had but reached the point where she "made a dash for the
+street." O'Reilly's brain had been busy. He was ready to give the advice
+expected.
+
+Clo was talking still, while he paid the chauffeur and sent him away. As
+they entered the restaurant below which lay Krantz's Keller,
+breathlessly she brought her story to an end. "There! You know all I
+know!"
+
+While they went downstairs side by side, step by step, O'Reilly gazed at
+the girl's profile. "I'm going to fall in love with this strange child,"
+he thought. "I'm in love with her already."
+
+They penetrated the blue curtain of tobacco smoke which veiled the
+cellar restaurant. People of all sorts were sitting at small, uncovered
+wooden tables, which were painted green. There were long-haired
+foreigners; there were rich American Jews. There were girls who looked
+like "show girls" or chorus girls at least, companioned by fashionably
+dressed and silly-faced boys. And all the company drank wine from oddly
+shaped bottles, or beer out of stone or pewter "krugs." At the end of
+the long, narrow room stood two huge casks, one on either side of a
+small stage where three men in the costumes of Tyrolese peasants played
+a zither, a 'cello, and a violin, for a gaily dressed boy and girl to
+dance.
+
+There were a number of tables still unoccupied, and of these a few were
+free. O'Reilly chose one close to the entrance. Seated there, he and Clo
+could see everybody who came in or went out. If they themselves wished
+to leave in a hurry it would be a convenient place.
+
+Clo could not even pretend to eat. She asked for strong coffee, and not
+to be conspicuous O'Reilly ordered for himself beer, and food with an
+odd, Russian sounding name. Having thus bought their right to the table,
+he leaned across to the pale girl.
+
+"The time's come when I can tell you what I think," he said. "First,
+what I think of you. You're the bravest person I ever met, and the most
+loyal. If the woman for whose sake you've done this is worthy of her
+friend, why, I'll be on her side from this night on."
+
+"Thank you," said Clo, meekly. She was very tired, but vitality flowed
+through her newly at O'Reilly's words and look. "I don't deserve such a
+compliment, but she deserves everything. If I've behaved badly to you,
+it was for her."
+
+"I know," said O'Reilly. "But you weren't precisely 'bad.' You were, on
+the whole, rather--wonderful. How did you get out of my room with the
+only door locked on the inside?"
+
+"Oh!" the girl cried, surprised, "I thought you'd guess. I went along
+the stone ledge under the window of your bedroom till I came to an open
+window of a room in the next suite."
+
+"I thought of that, when it was too late; but it seemed incredible."
+
+"It wasn't as hard to do as I was afraid it would be," said Clo. "The
+other window was open, the curtain was blowing out. I caught hold of it,
+and got along somehow, through not looking down. Then in the room where
+I went in, there was a man. He was at the door, and I scared him popping
+in that way at the window, so he let me run past. That's all." Firmly
+the girl closed the subject.
+
+"Let's talk about the pearls," she said. "Peterson was a wicked man. I
+can't pretend to be sorry he's been killed. He was acting for others
+higher up. I want to find Kit, not because I think she murdered him, but
+because I'm sure she's got the pearls. Who called out 'Come in!' in a
+man's voice, when Peterson was dead? We haven't got time to discuss the
+whole business before half-past eleven. Here comes my coffee! It's going
+to give me new life!"
+
+"You must need it. Try to nibble a few crumbs of this rusk," O'Reilly
+advised. "I've been thinking hard since you told me how 'Chuff' 'phoned
+to 'Pete,' and took you for Kit. As for the voice that called 'Come in',
+the wall being thin, a man in the room close by might think the knock
+was at his door. You're almost surely right about Kit being in the hotel
+to watch Peterson. No doubt he was acting for men who have the power
+to--trouble Mrs. Sands. Don't look at me like a wild cat! I shan't tell
+what you don't want to hear, but there certainly are such men. Most
+likely Peterson followed us into the Sands' apartment without being
+noticed in the wild confusion of your fainting. He was there to get hold
+of the thing he was blackmailing her for, the thing you went back to my
+hotel to steal, and then repented stealing. Naturally Peterson didn't
+find it, as it was still in my safe at the Dietz, but he might have seen
+the pearls. The fellow must have been hiding close to Mrs. Sands and me,
+when we talked, or he wouldn't have known that John Heron had wanted to
+buy those pearls! He 'phoned, later, from the Westmorland to Heron, as
+you must have guessed from what I 'phoned back. As for Kit, she was in
+her room next door when he called Heron up, and heard about his having
+pearls to sell; or else she went in to help him pack, and saw them. But
+it strikes me that a young woman of her class wouldn't bash a man on the
+head, and risk the Chair, for the righteous joy of turning a fortune
+over to her pals. No, if she killed Peterson, she killed him because she
+wanted the pearls for herself or a 'sweetheart.'"
+
+"There's Churn," said Clo. "He and Kit may be a 'case.' She may have
+gone straight to him with the pearls."
+
+"'Churn's' possibly a nickname for that Lorenz Czerny, whose name you
+found written on a visiting card," O'Reilly said. "What with that card,
+and the memorandum, and Kit's bag, we ought to get on to the track of
+the gang. I'm on Mrs. Sands' side now. But I know a private detective
+who's worked for clients of mine. He's close as an oyster, and true as a
+compass. Chuff may keep his appointment, or he may not. If the real
+Kit's turned up and told the truth, perhaps he won't dare, for fear of a
+trap. Still, he may, if he's got pluck, and a good disguise--or if the
+police have nothing 'on' him. The gang won't want the false Kit to get
+away with what she knows if the real one's true to them. And they'll be
+eager to see whom they're up against. That's why I should like to have
+Denham--the detective--on the spot."
+
+"Would that be the best way to get the pearls?" asked Clo.
+
+"Can you suggest a better one?"
+
+"Not on the spur of the moment."
+
+"It's on the spur of the moment we must decide."
+
+"Well--'phone Denham."
+
+"I will," said O'Reilly. "I think I ought to get him now unless he's on
+some job. I'll be back in a few minutes. There's no danger of serious
+trouble for you here."
+
+"I'm used to taking care of myself," said Clo. The hot, strong coffee
+had brought a faint colour to her face, and she looked up with one of
+those "cheeky" grins of hers, such as his "cousin" had given him at the
+Dietz. O'Reilly went away bewitched with the creature, absorbed in her.
+She had done so much for the love of a woman. What would she do for love
+of a man?
+
+He had to go upstairs to the telephone, it seemed, at Krantz's. Then the
+line was busy. He was obliged to wait.
+
+Meanwhile a tall girl, in a bright pink cloak over a pink dress, hurried
+through the gloomy restaurant. She paused only to glance at a clock on
+the wall, and then ran downstairs to the "Keller."
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+THE GIRL IN PINK
+
+
+Clo sat watching the crowd. She had removed her veil, and the long,
+brown cloak lent by Beverley. The latter she had folded, and was sitting
+upon it.
+
+It was then, when most of the tables were taken, and when a young tenor
+with a good voice had replaced the Italian peasants, that the girl in
+pink walked in. Clo sat with her face to the entrance, and happened to
+be looking that way. At sight of the girl, who came in alone, it was all
+she could do to sit still. She felt the blood stream to her face, and
+taking up the empty coffee cup, pretended to drink.
+
+"Gracious, why did I never think of her!" she wondered. For this was the
+girl who had got out of the elevator at the Westmorland, and had been
+stared at by the men, when Clo and Beverley descended the stairs from
+Peterson's room. Would there have been time after they had turned their
+backs for Kit to get out of the brown trunk (if she'd been in it!),
+fasten the lid, and descend to the lift while the two women went down
+the six flights of stairs?
+
+Yes, there would have been time. Clo was thankful that she had disposed
+of her veil, and was sitting on the cloak. Here at Krantz's she was only
+a girl in a white dress, with a brown toque which at the Westmorland had
+been hidden with a veil.
+
+There were two or three tables still disengaged, but the one with the
+best view of the stage was the one nearest Clo. The girl in pink tripped
+to it, without hesitation, stood for a minute staring at the singer, and
+sat down. Clo watched her. She could not be certain, but she thought the
+girl had caught the eye of the singer and had made him a sign.
+
+Not only had he a good voice, but he was good to look at, dark and
+rather "dashing," "almost like a second-hand gentleman," as Clo said to
+herself. His song pleased the audience, who clapped violently, demanding
+another. But the young man smiled, threw out his hands, shrugged,
+touched his throat, and bowed himself off the stage. By this time the
+girl in pink had ordered a bottle of wine which, to judge by the loving
+care of the waiter, must have been rare and expensive.
+
+The singer sat down with his back to Clo, his companion at his side.
+Thus they were able to draw close, and talk without much fear of being
+overheard.
+
+"Good Lord, Churn, I thought I'd missed you," were the first words Clo
+caught. As the girl spoke she flung a quick glance toward her little
+neighbour at the next table, but Clo had never looked so child-like. "I
+went to the Riche, and you'd gone," Kit continued. "To the Western; too
+late. Gosh! how I hiked for this place! I don't know what I'd done if
+I'd lost you!"
+
+"Vot's de row?" Churn asked cheerfully, speaking with a slight and
+rather agreeable foreign accent. He poured himself a tumblerful of the
+deep-coloured red wine, and drank as if it were water.
+
+"Say, Churn, a big thing's happened. I can't tell you here."
+
+"You want I take you to de hotel?"
+
+"No! I'm never goin' back there. And I can't go to my own digs either.
+I'll explain by and by. Could you take me home with you?"
+
+"No, Jake'll be comin' in."
+
+"Well, let's go to Chuff's. We must be somewhere! I've got a thing to
+show you, Churn. If there's two rooms free in the house we'll take
+'em--or, no, better take one. You'll see why we must be together when
+you know. Say, here's money to pay the wine--looks better for you than
+me. Then we'll be off."
+
+Clo gazed at the door. No O'Reilly yet. But if this pair went she would
+have to go, too. She mustn't lose them!
+
+Churn beckoned a waiter with a ten-dollar bill thrust into his hand by
+Kit. The waiter came; but he had to get change. In Clo's lap, hidden
+under her napkin, was the bag she had found in Kit's room. Stealthily
+she opened it and took out a stub of pencil she had noticed among the
+contents. On the table lay a programme of the evening's entertainment.
+Neither she nor O'Reilly had glanced at it; but now the girl eagerly
+examined the list. Among the names was that of "Lorenz Czerny, Tenor";
+and Clo underlined it with the pencil. Beneath, on the margin, she
+scrawled: "Kit's come and has been talking to him. They're going away. I
+must follow. I leave you all materials for the search--except the pearl.
+I keep that. Don't worry about me. I'll take care of myself."
+
+Clo had plenty of money, supplied by Beverley, so a five-dollar bill was
+laid conspicuously on the crumbs of rusk.
+
+Kit and Churn were on their feet. The waiter had given change, and Churn
+was counting it out. Both stood with their backs to Clo. Clo slipped the
+programme into the bead bag and the bead bag into a pocket of Beverley's
+brown silk coat, on which she had been sitting. She then whisked the
+folded garment from her own chair on to O'Reilly's, and covered it with
+his napkin.
+
+"I hope to goodness I'll meet him on the way up," she thought, "or
+before I get out of the restaurant above. I daren't take the cloak where
+she might see it. Besides, he must have the bag and memorandum."
+
+Churn gave the waiter a fifty-cent piece, and followed Kit, who had
+started. Neither looked back; and Clo beckoned the waiter. "I've an
+engagement," she said, "and can't wait longer for the gentleman I came
+with. He's upstairs telephoning. You tell him I've paid. Never mind the
+change. I'm leaving my coat for the gentleman to bring home. Can I trust
+you to be sure and give it to him?"
+
+"You can, miss," said the man. "I'll take charge of it myself."
+
+He looked trustworthy as well as grateful. Kit and Churn were winding
+their way among the tables. Clo pushed after them. O'Reilly was not on
+the stairs, nor was he visible in the dull restaurant above. He had the
+all-important envelope, it was true, and she could not guess who had
+returned it in a way to make him suppose it came from her. O'Reilly was,
+however, an honourable man, and he had promised to be "on Mrs. Sands'
+side." In the circumstances she saw only one course, and regretfully,
+even fearfully, took it. When Kit and Churn walked out into the street
+she walked after them, a few paces behind.
+
+Clo had been gone precisely four minutes when O'Reilly tore downstairs
+burning to apologize and explain. Mrs. Denham had said that her husband
+was out, but she knew where he was, and would 'phone; if
+he--O'Reilly--would hold the line she'd have an answer "in no time."
+Presently he had been rewarded by "getting" Denham, who, on hearing that
+he was urgently wanted, promised to cut short some work he was doing
+late at the office, and taxi to Krantz's. This was good news, and
+O'Reilly was sure Clo would think it had been worth waiting for. He
+could not believe his eyes when he saw the deserted table. What could
+have happened to the girl?
+
+He stood forlornly for a moment, staring round the room. As his eyes
+searched vainly, the waiter who had served him came hurrying up.
+
+"The young lady's gone, sare. She had to go--very sorry. She left me dis
+to give you when you come back. She pay de bill, sare, but I keep de
+table for you. You not finish your supper."
+
+O'Reilly had a stab of violent resentment against Clo. But the thought
+had only to pass through his brain to be rejected. The girl was a
+strange girl, audacious and unscrupulous in her loyalty to Mrs. Sands;
+but she could not have told her story in a way to impress its truth upon
+him unless she had been sincere.
+
+"The young lady didn't give you any other message?" he asked.
+
+"No, sare. She was in much hurry. But I see her mark on a piece of
+paper," the waiter replied. "Maybe she write you a note."
+
+O'Reilly reflected. Which should he do, look for a message in the pocket
+of the coat Clo had left, or dash upstairs and find out which way she
+had gone? It was almost certain that he would now gain nothing by the
+latter course.
+
+O'Reilly sat down at the table, in the chair where he had sat before. He
+found the one pocket in the brown coat, and in that pocket Kit's jet and
+steel bag. There was nothing else there, so he opened the bag cautiously
+in case some of Kit's friends had arrived. As he did so, the folded
+programme dropped out.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+WHEN BEVERLEY CAME HOME
+
+
+When Clo had shut the taxi door almost in Beverley's face, and had given
+the chauffeur orders to drive on, she had said to herself, "Angel will
+be so surprised she won't know what to do for a minute. And by the time
+she pulls herself together, she'll realize it's too late to stop me."
+
+The girl had judged well. Beverley shrank back from the slammed door
+with a jump of the nerves. Then she guessed what Clo meant to do. She
+was in the act of tapping to stop the chauffeur, and tell him to turn,
+when the question seemed to ask itself aloud in her brain, "What good
+will it do for you to go back?"
+
+Before she could reach Clo, if she returned to the hotel now, the girl
+would have learned the secret of Peterson's room. When she saw what
+Beverley had seen, she would know that there was nothing to be done with
+a dead man. She would slip away to avoid being mixed up in the business
+of the murder. She would not risk being caught. The girl was too
+sensible, and she had plenty of money as well as brains. She had shown
+herself equal to desperate emergencies. She would be equal to this. She
+was so quick-witted that she would know what to do, and how to do it.
+Beverley let the chauffeur drive on. He went to the corner where he had
+been hailed by his two passengers. There he stopped, and Beverley got
+out. She paid him; and making a pretence of examining her change in the
+light of a street lamp, stood still until the taxi had turned and shot
+out of sight. Then, with the bag of jewels which Clo had tossed into her
+lap, she walked home. Her latch-key opened the door of the flat, she
+entered her boudoir, and fell into a chair, sitting as still as the dead
+Peterson had sat. It was not much past ten o'clock.
+
+Five minutes later she took off hat and cloak, and peeped into her
+bedroom to see if her maid were there. But the room was empty, and she
+put away the gray mantle and toque where she had found them. She did not
+forget to toss carelessly upon her bed the hat she had worn in the
+afternoon, and a pair of white gloves; then she rang for her maid who
+came almost at once. She had gone out, Beverley explained quietly, to
+help Miss Riley transact a little matter of business.
+
+It was eleven-thirty when Leontine bade her mistress good-night and
+softly closed the bedroom door. She had noticed nothing strange in the
+manner of Madame, except an unusual lack of vitality.
+
+Left alone, Beverley opened the door of the big, bare room. "Clo," she
+called softly.
+
+No answer. She switched on the light. No one was there, and Beverley
+hurried on to the little room beyond, which had been Sister Lake's. It,
+too, was empty. Something grave, perhaps terrible, had detained the
+girl.
+
+"She won't come--she won't come at all." Beverley said aloud. "What
+shall I do?" She could not abandon the fragile child who loved her, who
+had stood by her with wonderful strength and courage throughout this
+dreadful day. Yet what was there she could do?
+
+Roger returned about one o'clock. He moved quietly, as if in order not
+to disturb his wife, but she heard the cautious closing of his door. She
+did not try or wish to sleep, but lay on her bed, waiting for day.
+
+After six o'clock Beverley could lie still no longer. She stole into her
+bathroom, and bathed in cold water. But she felt as utterly spent after
+her bath as before.
+
+This morning she did penance by putting on a tailor-made, white linen
+suit, of a slightly severe cut, and made her toilet without ringing for
+Leontine. She decided to breakfast at the customary hour and in the
+customary place, but she did not expect to be joined by Roger. She was
+still in her bedroom, fastening a brooch, when he tapped at her door.
+
+"Come in!" she cried, eager for the meeting, yet sick with fear. Roger
+came in, fully dressed, looking cool and well groomed. To Beverley's sad
+heart it seemed that he had never been so handsome--or so hard.
+
+"Good morning," he said, as he might have spoken to any friend. "I heard
+you stirring about, so I thought I might knock. Are you going out
+early?" as his eyes wandered over her dress.
+
+"You mean because I'm dressed? No, I didn't think of it. I couldn't
+sleep. The night was hot, and the heat was on my nerves, I suppose, so I
+got up at six. I hope I didn't disturb you, Roger?"
+
+"Not at all," he politely replied. "I've some business which will take
+me out half an hour sooner than usual. I suppose they can give us
+breakfast in time for that? Coffee and toast and grape fruit can't take
+long to make ready?"
+
+"I'll ring for breakfast. I didn't know if----"
+
+"Didn't know--what?" he caught up her sentence as it broke.
+
+"Oh, nothing--important," she excused herself. Yet she was sure he knew
+what had stopped her short of saying that she didn't know if he would
+breakfast with her in the boudoir.
+
+"Well, I daresay Johnson has put the newspapers in their place by this
+time," Roger said, ignoring her embarrassment. "I'll have a look, to
+save time. You'll come when you're ready? I've a suggestion to make that
+I think you'll like."
+
+He spoke pleasantly, not at all as if he had a grudge against his wife.
+Many women would have been satisfied with such a manner; but Beverley
+was not of the "many women," and Roger had never been like other,
+ordinary husbands. For the first morning since that day in Chicago when
+he had asked her to be his wife, they had not kissed.
+
+"It will always be like this from now on," she told herself. "I hope I
+shall die. I can't live without his love, and go on seeing him every
+day!"
+
+Roger had not mentioned Clo, and Beverley held her peace. She thought it
+would be best to wait and see what the newspapers said. At the end of
+ten minutes, as the breakfast tray was being placed on the lace table
+cover, she strolled into the boudoir. Roger hardly looked up, feigning
+to be deeply interested in his paper. On other mornings--the servant
+being out of the room--he would have sprung from his chair to place
+hers, and perhaps to kiss the long braid of her golden brown hair, or
+the back of her white neck as it showed under her fetching little cap.
+
+"Any exciting news?" she asked in a casual tone, as she sat down--the
+sort of tone which other wives perhaps use to other husbands.
+
+"Nothing that interests us specially," Roger answered. "A rather sordid
+murder, at a third-rate hotel; there's a mystery, of course."
+
+"What hotel?" Beverley ventured to ask, pouring coffee with a hand that
+would shake.
+
+"One I never heard of before. Let me see, what's the name? Oh, the
+'Westmorland.' You'll not be interested. Let's get to the thing I want
+to talk about. Can you guess what it is?"
+
+Beverley shook her head. "I am a bad guesser."
+
+"It's partly about your pearls. By the by, was the pearl-stringer
+satisfactory?"
+
+"Oh, quite," Beverley murmured, sipping her coffee.
+
+"I'm glad she made a good job. The rope looks as fine as if no accident
+had happened, I suppose?"
+
+"It's a--wonderful rope," his wife managed to reply.
+
+"I imagined you'd be wearing your gewgaws for breakfast this morning
+just to show they were all right!" Roger's eyes smiled coolly into hers.
+It was a cruel smile.
+
+"A rope of pearls at breakfast--on a tailor gown of linen--and a queen's
+pearls at that! What bad taste! I shall wear these splendours only on
+the greatest occasions."
+
+"Well, I've arranged a great occasion," said Roger. "That's principally
+what I want to talk about. I'd like you to send out invitations for a
+house party and a big dinner and dance directly after we're settled in
+the Newport cottage. And I'd like to move there sooner than we meant.
+I've decided to take a few weeks' holiday. We'll both be better out of
+the city."
+
+"Oh, yes!" Beverley agreed.
+
+"And I want you to do a thing to please me. Wear the queen's
+pearls--your pearls--on the night of the dinner and dance."
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+MR. JONES OF PEORIA
+
+
+O'Reilly had only just finished reading Clo's note, had folded it up,
+and put it in his pocket when he was joined by a man at whom, for a
+second, he stared as at a stranger. Then a slight contraction of the
+newcomer's eyelid and a twinkle in his eye enlightened Justin.
+
+"Well, this is good, meeting you!" exploded a jolly voice. "I hoped you
+hadn't forgotten poor old Dick Jones, though it's a long time since you
+blew out our way to Peoria. I'm here in little old New York, seeing the
+sights."
+
+"Why, of course, I remember you very well, Mr. Jones," said O'Reilly.
+"Sit down at my table, do. What'll you have, in memory of old times?"
+
+As he spoke, he took in the extraordinary changes Mr. William J. Denham
+had made in his personal appearance. Denham was a slender, youngish man,
+neat and dapper, with light brown hair, a smooth face, and pale skin.
+Jones had reddish, rumpled eye-brows, puffy pink lids, and large, roving
+eyes behind convex glasses. His hair was also red and rumpled, and
+though he was not enormously stout, he was clumsily built, with a
+decided paunch.
+
+When he had sat down at O'Reilly's table, the absence of near neighbours
+and the momentary inattention of waiters gave the two men a chance to
+speak freely. "You sent a hurry call. Something up at Krantz's this
+peaceful Sabbath?"
+
+"There's more up than I want to come out," said O'Reilly. "Things have
+changed since I 'phoned, but there's more need of you than ever. The
+girl I wanted to help was with me. While I talked to you, she
+disappeared...."
+
+"Disappeared!"
+
+"Yes. I couldn't follow, because when I knew what had happened it was
+too late to get on her track; otherwise you'd have found me flown. I'd
+have sacrificed you for her, if there'd been even a sporting chance. But
+I didn't see one. Maybe you will, when I put you wise: or somebody may
+show up whose face will give you a tip. I'll tell you what I
+know--except the name of a lady which mustn't come into the business
+even with discretion incarnate like you."
+
+"Reservations often spoil jobs," said Denham.
+
+"Mine won't."
+
+The coming of a waiter broke the conversation.
+
+"Anybody interesting here?" asked Justin, when the waiter had gone.
+
+"No familiar faces. But there may be, later."
+
+O'Reilly shook his head. "It's a quarter to twelve. The man or men who
+made an appointment--not with me; with the girl who's gone--should have
+turned up at eleven-thirty."
+
+"If they're sure of themselves--sure their faces aren't known--they're
+probably here," remarked Denham. "But out with your story. A lot may
+hang on that."
+
+"A lot does," said O'Reilly; and told it. He omitted no detail given by
+Clo except such as led too close to Mrs. Sands. O'Reilly hardly
+disguised the fact that the crime and its punishment were of slight
+importance to him compared with the finding of Clo Riley. "I don't want
+her mixed up in this murder business," he finished, "and she doesn't
+want to be mixed up in it, not for her own sake, but because of the
+woman she's protecting. You could get the name of that woman, but I ask
+you not to concern yourself with it."
+
+"Right you are," Denham reassured him. "I've got enough to do without
+meddling in other folks' business. The lady outside the case doesn't
+exist. But as for 'Churn' being Lorenz Czerny, it doesn't go without
+saying that we shall spot Chuff and Jake, and the rest of the gang
+through him. That will depend on himself, and his Moll--Kit. I wouldn't
+mind offering your young lady a good place and good pay when this mix-up
+comes to an end."
+
+"I do not believe she'll be looking for work," said O'Reilly.
+
+"This Kit must be pretty sharp, too. It looks as if Churn was her
+'steady.' If she did the job at the Westmorland, it was to set him and
+her up in housekeeping, later on, well away from Chuff and Co. Looks as
+if Kit had been used for a catspaw, and maybe hadn't got enough out of
+the job for herself. Suddenly she saw a whole dazzling lot. I can't get
+on to who this Kit is yet. But maybe I will. Your little friend does
+shoot quick--and low."
+
+"She does," said O'Reilly. "But she doesn't hit below the belt."
+
+"Folks like Kit and Churn and Chuff haven't got belts," said Denham.
+
+O'Reilly laughed again. But he wanted Clo. She was made for him--the
+demon, the darling, the only girl he had ever seriously desired. He
+hadn't known that she existed till to-night, when she'd begun their
+acquaintance by tricking and stealing from him. Though he might laugh,
+he wouldn't know a happy moment till she was safe. For an instant he
+forgot Denham and the business in hand. "I think she likes me," he told
+himself. "I'll make her like me a lot more when I get half a chance."
+
+"That couple will hide," Denham was saying. "Churn may send word to
+Krantz that he can't sing; he'll say he's sick. But I shan't do any such
+thing as put Krantz wise that his tenor is wanted. Krantz is a fox. Our
+hope is in Miss Riley."
+
+"You'll come to the Dietz, won't you?" asked O'Reilly.
+
+"Yes," said the detective, finishing his cool beer. "I'll come. But I
+haven't got much hope from what may be in that bead bag. People who have
+things to hide, hide 'em better than in bags. However, we'll see." When
+Justin had paid for Denham's drink, they went, with the bead bag in the
+pocket of Clo's brown cloak hanging over O'Reilly's arm. It was after
+midnight.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+ACCORDING TO THE MORNING PAPERS
+
+
+Roger had talked of nothing but his plan for the Newport house-warming,
+after starting the subject; and he had told Beverley that they ought to
+be able to move in a week. She must make everything right about the
+servants: he would see to outside arrangements. And this "big party"
+could take place in a fortnight. It was ostentatious sending out
+invitations longer in advance. They must make a "splash"--worthy of the
+house--and the pearls. Beverley must think up something original in the
+way of entertainment--a surprise. And as he talked it seemed to the girl
+that his eyes never left her face. Beverley promised to move to Newport
+when Roger wished. She promised to write the invitations, and--she
+promised to wear the queen's pearls.
+
+At last Roger went, without having alluded to Clodagh Riley. Whether
+this were deliberate, or careless, Beverley could not guess. But she was
+thankful.
+
+The instant Roger had gone Beverley seized the paper he had dropped, and
+found what she wanted. "Mysterious Murder at Hotel Westmorland" was the
+heading at the top of a column on the first page. She sat down and read
+the whole report.
+
+That day was among the most terrible of Beverley's chequered life. She
+had had several engagements, but she telephoned to put them off. Not for
+anything would she have left the house, for she hoped to have a message
+from Clo. She feared to hear also from one whom Peterson served, but it
+was best that she should be at home if such a message arrived.
+
+"Have they kept their word? Have they killed Stephen because I didn't
+send back the papers?" she constantly asked herself. "What will they do
+next? Will they advertise again in the newspapers? Will they telephone?
+Will they send another man, now Peterson is dead? Or if not, how will
+they reach me? Surely they won't leave me in peace for long!"
+
+The day passed with outward monotony. It was only within herself that
+each moment was different from every other.
+
+When evening came at last, nothing had happened, yet Beverley's nerves
+were jarred as if by a succession of shocks. As Leontine dressed her for
+dinner, a sharp tap at the door made her jump and cry out. "A
+special-delivery letter for me, Madame," announced the Frenchwoman.
+"Have I Madame's permission? It is strange I do not know the hand. It is
+but a common yellow envelope, addressed in pencil, to Mademoiselle
+Leontine Rossignol--perhaps from someone who begs. Never have I received
+a letter by special delivery!"
+
+"You'd better open it," said Beverley, relieved that the letter was not
+for her.
+
+"Rossignol is so odd a name, Madame, that everyone remembers, because it
+means nightingale," said Leontine, gingerly tearing off an end of the
+flimsy yellow envelope.
+
+Then, suddenly she cried out. "But Madame, the letter is from
+Mademoiselle Riley! I do not see why she writes to me. I understand
+nothing of what she says. Will Madame read?"
+
+Hiding eagerness, Beverley took the half sheet of commercial paper.
+
+The letter began:
+
+     DEAR LEONTINE:
+
+     I am safe in my new home, and there's no need to worry. I am
+     picking up all that I have lost. I hope to call on you before long
+     and show what good progress I have made. With grateful messages for
+     Madame, from her devoted little servant, and kind remembrance to
+     you--I am, faithfully yours,
+
+     Clodagh Riley.
+
+     P.S.--If possible I should like Mr. O'R. to hear that I am doing
+     well. He has been kind since you saw me last.
+
+There was no date and no address on this letter, which filled only one
+page.
+
+Beverley's bewilderment passed as she studied the letter. Clo's
+underlying motives came to the surface with a flash.
+
+"I suppose," she explained quietly, "that Mademoiselle fancied it would
+be a liberty to write to me. I'm glad to hear from her so soon. As the
+letter is really for me, perhaps I'd better keep it."
+
+"Please do, madame," Leontine urged, again attacking the tiny hooks
+which fastened her mistress's dinner dress. "I noticed that Mademoiselle
+did not put the number of the house or street where she is staying. But,
+of course, Madame will know both."
+
+"Of course," echoed Beverley. She guessed that Leontine must be consumed
+with curiosity as to Clo's disappearance and the departure of Sister
+Lake.
+
+When Leontine had hooked the last hook Beverley went to the boudoir.
+There she sat down with Clo's cryptic message, praying that Roger might
+not come till she had unravelled it.
+
+But, after all, the meaning of one sentence after another sprang quickly
+to her eyes. She had realized at once that Clo wrote to Leontine because
+she dared not use the name of Mrs. Sands. This suggested that she was in
+a house where the name of Sands was not unknown. Now, concentrating upon
+the queer letter, Beverley understood each veiled hint. Clo wished her
+not to "worry." Clo was "picking up all she had lost." Clo "hoped to
+call before long, and show what good progress" she had made. All this
+could have only one meaning. And how like Clo, to have treasured in some
+brain-cell Leontine's queer name of "Rossignol"!
+
+She had written nothing to waken suspicion; and as no house, no street,
+was mentioned, there need be no dread of discovery for guilty
+consciences. Beverley judged that O'Reilly's name as well as Roger's
+might be known to someone near to Clo. Evidently she was afraid to send
+a letter to Justin O'Reilly. But the end of the postscript was amazing.
+O'Reilly had been kind to Clo!
+
+"She went to see him again!" was the thought in Beverley's mind. "Then,
+perhaps, she didn't go back to the Westmorland. What can 'kind' mean,
+unless he's promised to help instead of hurt us?"
+
+But she must find out what had happened last between O'Reilly and Clo.
+How should she communicate with him? Should she send a note by district
+messenger to the Dietz? Or--should she telephone, before Roger came, and
+learn all that she wished to know without delay? Quickly she decided
+upon this bolder course. She called up O'Reilly's hotel, and soon heard
+his "Hello!"
+
+"I'm Mrs. Sands," she explained. "I've a letter from Clo. She sends you
+a message."
+
+The voice from the Dietz had sounded indifferent. It was so no longer.
+
+"What news?" O'Reilly asked. "Tell me everything."
+
+She told him, and read Clo's letter to Leontine distinctly, that he
+might miss no word. "I understand why it might be dangerous to put an
+address, or to write to you or me," Beverley added. "But it's frightful
+not to know where she is. Explain what you can quickly, because--I'm
+expecting someone."
+
+"Peterson stole your pearls," O'Reilly answered. "He 'phoned Heron and
+offered to sell them. He must have been hiding in your room and
+overheard our talk. Later, I answered him for Heron. Miss Riley was in
+Peterson's room then, and she and I got in touch. She asked through the
+'phone if I'd help. I said 'Yes,' and she told me to come with a taxi. I
+picked her up outside the hotel, and took her where she wanted to go: a
+restaurant, Krantz's Keller. When I'd heard what she had to say I
+proposed to employ a private detective. Don't worry; he's absolutely
+loyal, and I'm on your side, after all, Mrs. Sands--I may as well
+confess it's for Miss Riley's sake. She repented stealing the papers
+from me, you know, and sent them back in the envelope just as they
+were----"
+
+"Clo sent you the papers! You're mistaken. I know she didn't send them,"
+Beverley cried. She had forgotten her fear of being overheard, forgotten
+everything, but the sound of a door closing caused her to start. It was
+a strange sound just then, because both doors had already been shut when
+she went to the telephone, the door leading into her bedroom, the door
+into the hall, and she had heard neither open since. Yet she could not
+be mistaken. Somebody had closed one of those doors and must previously
+have opened it.
+
+Sick with fear, Beverley dropped the receiver and ran to look into the
+hall. No one was there. She flew to the door of her bedroom and peeped
+in. The room was empty. She rang for Johnson, who appeared at once.
+
+"Has Mr. Sands come in?" she asked.
+
+"I think not, Madam," the butler replied.
+
+"Go and see. Search everywhere."
+
+She did not move while the man was away.
+
+"Mr. Sands is not in the house, Madam," Johnson solemnly announced.
+
+"Thank you!" Beverley said. Yet she was not relieved. Something told her
+that it was Roger who had shut the door.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+WHAT CLO DID WITH A KNIFE
+
+
+When Kit and Churn left Krantz's Keller they walked fast along
+Fourteenth Street till they came to Sixth Avenue. There they appeared to
+hesitate, as if they could not decide whether to go up or down town.
+Clo, as close behind them as she dared to venture, guessed instantly
+that, until now, they had not entirely made up their minds which of
+several hiding-places it would be safest for them to seek.
+
+Judging by their linked arms, and the nearness of the two heads, their
+conversation was absorbing. They stopped at the corner, and Clo stopped
+also. Presently the pair resolved on going down toward Thirteenth
+Street. Clo went after them. They walked for several blocks; and the
+girl following always glanced at the number of each street she passed.
+There had been an accident to a taxi, however, in the neighbourhood of
+Eleventh Street, and a crowd had collected. In this crowd Clo nearly
+lost the quarry. She had a moment of despair, then saw the skirt of Kit
+in the distance. No longer was she wearing a pink cloak, but a white
+one. She must have had a chance to turn it wrong side out!
+
+So excited was Clo that she forgot to notice the streets. Whether the
+couple turned off the Avenue into Tenth, or Ninth, or Eighth, she was
+not sure. She was certain only that she was on their track. Then
+followed a chase across town. In this, the girl finally lost her head a
+little, but when it seemed that she could drag herself no further, Kit
+and Churn stopped in front of a house, and rang the bell.
+
+"Neither of them lives there, or there'd be a latch-key!" Clo thought,
+hovering on the other side of the street.
+
+It was some time before the two were let in; but after a delay of four
+or five minutes a woman opened the door. A dim gas light shone from the
+hall or lobby, and Clo's impression was of a dark brown face, the face
+of a negress. There was a short discussion; then the woman nodded,
+stepping aside to let Kit and Churn pass. An instant later the door shut
+them in.
+
+Clo stood gazing at the house. It was one in a row of old-fashioned,
+shabby brick buildings, four storeys in height. A light showed in the
+basement, but other windows were black. Suddenly, as Clo watched, a
+yellow gleam flashed in a fourth-storey room but at the same moment a
+man stepped to the window and pulled down a dark blind. Clo thought that
+this man was Churn.
+
+"They're going to stay," she argued; and crossing the street at a
+distance from the house, the girl looked at it with interest. There was
+no street lamp near, and she could not see the number; but there was a
+small plaque at the side of the door, and Clo tripped up the steps to
+read it. Joy, the place was a boarding house!
+
+The pair having mounted to the fourth storey, Clo thought she might
+venture to ring. She pulled an old-fashioned bell, and her heart thumped
+in her breast as the shrill sound jingled through the house.
+
+"I must have some tale to tell--why I'm here so late, wanting a room,"
+she reflected.
+
+The door was opened by the woman who had admitted Kit and Churn. Not
+only was she black, but she was fat and slovenly. Staring at the
+new-comer, she exclaimed with a mouth full of gum:
+
+"Say, is you another fren' o' Mr. Cheffinsky?"
+
+"Chuff!" was the password that flashed through Clo's brain. "This is
+where he lives!" She was triumphant.
+
+"I don't know anything about Mr. Cheffinsky," she replied, "but I'm in a
+scrape, and a friend of mine once recommended me to this house. I saw
+some people come in, and a light. It's still a boarding-house, isn't
+it?"
+
+"It ain't no foundlin' orphant asylum."
+
+"I don't ask for charity. I've got money to pay my board. But I don't
+want an expensive room. One at the top of the house will do."
+
+"Say, it's a real funny time o' night for a young girl like you to go
+lookin' foh a home to lay her haid," remarked the negress. "But you can
+step in the hall. I'll call Mis' MacMahon. She's the lady o' the house.
+We've got a room upstahs, but I don't know whethah she'll let you have
+it."
+
+She allowed Clo to enter, and left the girl standing as she descended
+the basement stairs.
+
+"'MacMahon' sounds hopeful!" Clo thought. The girl had lodged drearily
+in New York, but she had never been in a house as dreary as this.
+
+Mrs. MacMahon's look was less inspiring than her name. She was of the
+big-jowled type; a grim woman of middle age; and her manner suggested
+suspicion. But Clo began to speak first, with her best brogue, which she
+could use, when needed, with great effect.
+
+"I beg your pardon, ma'am, for intruding on ye at this time of the
+night," said the girl in her creamiest voice, with a child-like smile,
+"but the lady I'm maid for and me had a quarrel about a young man, and
+rather than give him up, I just walked away from the house, without
+waitin' to pack my things. I've walked till I'm played out! I tould yer
+maid a friend o' mine had spoken o' Mrs. MacMahon's place and I didn't
+forget. I'll pay a week in advance if you'll take me in."
+
+Whether Mrs. MacMahon believed these out-pourings was an open question,
+but her face softened slightly at sound of the brogue.
+
+"Irish, are you!" she said.
+
+"Yes, County Cork, and not over since very long," returned the girl.
+
+"I'm from County Cork, me and me dead husband both," volunteered the
+woman. "I've been in New York these twelve years. Violet says you ast
+for a top-floor room?"
+
+"I did that," said Clo.
+
+"Well, a top-floor room is the only wan I've got vacant. How long would
+ye be wanting it for?"
+
+"Oh, a few days, and maybe more."
+
+"You can come and have a look. I don't boast of the room. It's last
+choice. I charge seven dollars with board."
+
+"I don't mind seven dollars," said Clo, and followed her hostess up
+flight after flight of dimly lighted stairs. They were covered with
+oilcloth, and the hall smelled of escaping gas, but the girl was almost
+happy. The place was not attractive, but it seemed decent enough.
+
+"It's a hall room, but a front one," explained Mrs. MacMahon, panting,
+as they reached the top of the house. Clo was enchanted to hear this,
+for it meant that the room must adjoin the one where Churn had pulled
+down the blind. She wondered if Churn were married to Kit. Perhaps she
+would find out by and by.
+
+"There's a husband and wife come into the double room next," Mrs.
+MacMahon went on, when she had shown Clo her proposed quarters. "The
+wall's kind of thin, for this room was part of the other once, but
+they're a quiet couple, I guess: and if you're quiet, too, you won't
+trouble each other. They're friends of a gentleman boarder we've had for
+some time, and they've been here to call on him, though they've never
+stayed before. I want 'em to be comfortable, so stir around as little as
+you can in the morning. I guess they're the kind that lies late in bed."
+
+"I feel more as if I'd like to lie in bed all day!" sighed Clo.
+
+"Well, sleep as much as you like. But don't be scared if ye hear folks
+movin' later on to-night. The friend of this couple is out, but he may
+come home and want to see 'em."
+
+Clo paid seven dollars in advance for the room, and took pains to show
+that she had plenty of money. She begged also to buy or borrow a clean
+nightgown, and suggested that, if there were a new toothbrush in the
+house, she would be glad to have it. Mrs. MacMahon laughed. A nightgown
+she could lend, but as for a toothbrush, there wouldn't be one this side
+of the nearest drugstore. Miss Ryan (the name Clo gave) must wait till
+next day.
+
+"Well, anyhow, maybe you've a bit you'll give me to eat!" the new
+boarder pleaded. "I'm that hungry I could bite off the door-knob! I'll
+pay extra, of course--this time of night. And your coloured
+woman--Violet, isn't she?--shall have a couple of dimes for bringing up
+the food."
+
+Mrs. MacMahon softened and asked what food her guest desired. Clo
+desired nothing so much as a knife, and made a bid to secure one by
+asking for meat. "Any old kind!--and some bread and milk. I'll give
+fifty cents--" (she watched the woman's eye)--"I mean, a dollar for my
+supper."
+
+When Mrs. MacMahon had gone the girl held her breath to listen. Yes, the
+wall was thin! She could hear Kit and Churn talking in an ordinary tone,
+but she could catch few words, even when she laid her ear against the
+dusty paper. When the voices sank low, they reached her only in an
+indistinct rumble.
+
+She guessed that the tiny room was separated from the larger one by a
+partition of laths and plaster, covered on each side with flimsy wall
+paper. She could feel as well as hear someone walking up and down, up
+and down, in the next room! No doubt it was Churn. Now and then he would
+pause. A piece of furniture would creak; then he would jump up, to begin
+walking again.
+
+Presently Violet appeared, a coarse nightgown hanging over her arm, a
+plate of bread and ham on a napkinless tray, and glass of bluish milk.
+Clo gave the woman twenty cents, and promised the same sum if her
+breakfast were brought upstairs. Violet agreed to this bargain, which
+was well for the girl. She would have starved rather than desert her
+room long enough to eat while Churn and Kit remained in their quarters.
+She surmised that they would not often go out.
+
+Clo had told the truth in pleading hunger, but when she was alone and
+had locked her door, she took from the tray only the steel knife and
+fork which lay beside the plate. Having pushed the cot bed away from the
+wall, she sat down on the floor, Turk fashion. Choosing a spot which
+would be invisible with the bed in place, she waited till Churn was
+inclined to walk. Then she began delicately to dig at the plaster with
+her extemporized tools. Whenever Churn stopped, she stopped also, lest
+the rat-like noise should reach alert ears in the next room. For a long
+time she toiled, cautiously, slowly, gathering up bits of paper and
+plaster that fell, and collecting them in her lap. It was a tedious
+task, but not difficult. In less than an hour she had made--practically
+without noise--a hole the size of a silver dollar. It went through to
+the lathes; beyond that barrier her tools were of no avail. She needed a
+thin, sharp instrument like a hat-pin, to push between the slats of
+wood. A tiny hole would suffice. But she had no hat-pin in the
+close-fitting toque lent by Beverley. Her own was now a souvenir in
+O'Reilly's possession.
+
+She tried hair-pins, but they bent, one after another. Then she searched
+for a nail, and found one at last, stuck in the wall, supporting a small
+mirror. Carefully she deposited this upon the bed (it wouldn't do to
+break a looking glass!) and set to work once more. At the end of twenty
+minutes' scratching, she felt resistance cease before the nail-point.
+Hastily she withdrew it, lest it should pierce too far; and stretched on
+the floor she listened with her ear to the aperture on her side of the
+wall.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+THE NINE DAYS
+
+
+"I wish Chuff would come, and get it over!" she heard Churn sigh aloud,
+in his sweet, foreign-sounding voice.
+
+"I wonder why he went out?" said Kit. "He ought to have been home all
+evening. He was expecting Pete on business, you know."
+
+"Can he have got onto de reason dat fellah Pete didn't come?"
+
+"No, no," Kit answered. "I've told you a dozen times no! He wouldn't
+have gone to the Westmorland. Pete had to call on him. But there must
+have been something important to take Chuff out."
+
+"Vat vas de plan?"
+
+"Oh, what does it matter? To-night's changed everything for me, and you,
+too. You are goin' to stand by me, aren't you, Churn, through thick and
+thin?"
+
+"You bettcha life! For de whole of vot I'm vorth!"
+
+Kit's tone changed. She chuckled. "You may be worth a lot. You've
+married a rich heiress. See?"
+
+"Sh, girl! If Chuff comes spyin' on us we don't vant him to hear dat
+word 'married.' He'd only laugh--or vorse."
+
+"All right! But he ain't our master any more. We can do without him."
+
+"Maybe he von't tink he can do vidout us."
+
+"He'll _have_ to, when we get something good on the pearls. And say, I
+never thought you could kill any one and feel no more than I do now.
+Churn, if you'd been there, you'd 'a' settled his hash long before I
+did. The things he said to me--and me your wife! It makes me sick to
+think o' them--and of him, the low beast!"
+
+"Don't tink, den. Tink of me."
+
+"I do. I love you, Boy! The minute I lamped the pearls--when I sensed
+they was real--I meant to get 'em, for you and me to set up house far
+away somewheres on our own. We can go to Buenos Aires or some place
+south, where they love a nice voice like yours, so you won't feel
+wasted. If Chuff knew what we've got here in this table drawer!"
+
+"Better tie 'em up in your handkerchief again. If Chuff----"
+
+"Oh, Chuff nothing! I feel in my bones, now he's so late, he won't come
+home to-night. I don't care what happens to Chuff. Let's go to bed."
+
+"No--not yet. I vait."
+
+"Peterson thought he could say what he liked to me, the pig!" Kit went
+on. "Well, he's paid. His blood's on his own head. Oh, Churn, it was on
+his head, every sense o' the word! I didn't like the look of it--turned
+me sick! Lucky my long cloak was in the room. See--on my dress, two
+stains! Boy, that trunk stunt was awful. You've got to let me go to bed
+and sleep, or I believe I'll have hysterics and yell the house down. I
+thought I was all right since I found you, but it's comin' on again,
+that tremblin'!"
+
+"Go to bed, den, girl. I vait. Dat's easy."
+
+"I will. Just one more look at the pearls--our pearls! But I lost one. I
+heard it roll. It was so close to him I--I couldn't----"
+
+"Don't you care. Dere's a lot for us. We'll count 'em first ting
+to-morra', ven ve both feel like ourselves."
+
+"They ought to fetch a king's ransom, Boy."
+
+"Dey vill not, den. Dere'll be all de bulls in N'York after em. Joke on
+us, dough, if Chuff was in de deal mit Pete!"
+
+"I'm sure he wasn't--dead sure."
+
+Silence fell. When the pair spoke again it was of other things. At last
+Clo fell suddenly fast asleep, on the floor. She knew that Beverley's
+pearls were in the next room. That had to be enough for the night.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The girl slept till dawn. Waking, she was astonished to find herself on
+the floor, and for an instant could not remember what had happened. But
+in a flash it all came back. Quickly she got up and quietly undressed,
+putting on Mrs. MacMahon's immense nightgown before she dropped
+thankfully upon the cot bed. Clo did not sleep again, but lay until
+eight o'clock, when her neighbours began to stir. Then she listened once
+more at the hole in the wall until she feared that Violet might come
+with breakfast. The woman had suggested bringing it at nine, and lest
+she should wonder why the hungry girl hadn't supped, the milk had to be
+hastily poured away and the bread and ham hidden. The bed had also to be
+lifted into place covering the hole in the wall.
+
+Nothing of special interest had been said by Kit and her husband since
+their waking, but soon the young woman began to concern herself with the
+subject of clothes.
+
+"I told Mrs. MacMahon we expected our baggage this morning from
+Brooklyn. If it doesn't come it's been stolen--see? The old party won't
+think wrong of Chuff's pals. He's a real family friend. Gee, all sorts
+of things happen in a house like this! Before long we'll 'phone Isaacs
+to come along and look at the pearls. Chuff's got a 'phone in his room,
+you know."
+
+Clo knew also. She had good reason to know, and that Chuff had lent his
+telephone book to "Jake."
+
+As Violet kicked on the door (her hands being occupied with the tray)
+Clo hastily stuffed a handkerchief into the hole she had made in the
+wall. She feared that the pair in the next room might take alarm at the
+sound of voices, and therefore she cautiously subdued her own. She
+hadn't slept well, she answered Violet's question. Her head ached, and
+perhaps she might lie in bed the rest of the day. The promised reward
+was given, and more offered if Violet would find time to buy toilet
+articles, and a few clothes. She was begged to bring writing paper also;
+there might be a letter to send by express delivery.
+
+The coffee, though weak, was hot, and Clo felt revived after drinking
+it. Once more she placed the bed across the door, pulled out the
+handkerchief "gag" from the hole in the wall, and thus, on sentinel
+duty, finished her breakfast.
+
+Later in the day the couple next door resigned themselves to the
+indefinite absence of Chuff. "Mrs. Mac" herself came up to see her
+guests, who called themselves Mr. and Mrs. Stahl. The landlady talked of
+Mr. Cheffinsky as her "star boarder," and said that she was used to his
+"queer ways." Often he stopped away from home a day or two, but she
+never worried. He always came back. The "Stahls" were voluble over the
+non-arrival of their luggage, which seemed to vex them more than the
+appearance of Cheffinsky, their old friend. Whether or not Mrs. MacMahon
+believed the story, at all events she agreed to supply the needs of Mr.
+and Mrs. Stahl, ordering a list of things for their selection. This
+arrangement raised Clo's hopes. Maybe Churn and Kit intended to venture
+out! If they went for a short airing, they would probably leave the
+pearls at home. In their absence Clo would somehow get into the room
+next door. With Beverley's jewels recaptured, her mission in this house
+would be accomplished.
+
+But she was doomed to disappointment. After writing her hopeful letter
+to Leontine, Clo's expectations of quick success were dashed. Kit and
+Churn received the clothes they wanted, but did not go out; nor did they
+audibly plan to go. Their intention was to eat downstairs, but they
+would take turns. One would always keep guard over the pearls. Newspaper
+mention of the "girl in pink" had scared them. After a heated argument
+they decided that, till they "saw how the wind blew," they would not
+risk sending for Isaacs. This was a sacrifice, because they wished to
+dispose of the pearls before Cheffinsky came "nosing around"; but they
+were not sure of Isaac's loyalty. Who could tell what he might do, if
+tempted by big bribes to "frame" his pals? They must wait; and so must
+Clo.
+
+Days passed. The girl still posed as an invalid taking a rest-cure, and
+her tips to Violet were generous. Once she heard Kit inquiring who lived
+in the next room; but Mrs. Mac's answer was satisfactory. A poor little
+mite of a thing, out of a job as lady's maid, was their neighbour;
+Irish, and recommended by an old client.
+
+Nine days lagged on, and then at last Clo came upon a "personal" in the
+newspaper she took in. Instantly she realized that it was meant for her,
+and put in by Justin O'Reilly. It was so worded that no "outsider" could
+guess its meaning. "C.R. from her cousin who is just in," was the
+heading which caught her eye. He knew that she knew his name was Justin;
+and she had first introduced herself as his cousin! "Working out
+Sunday's problem with expert help," she read, "Message received
+insufficient. Won't you let me know where you are?"
+
+The girl dared not answer by letter or newspaper. Violet would undertake
+any errand, but she could not be trusted for a mission of such
+importance. O'Reilly must be content with the message passed on by Mrs.
+Sands.
+
+On the ninth day Kit and Churn had a serious quarrel. The man insisted
+on going out. He could stand his imprisonment no longer; not for Kit,
+not for the pearls!
+
+Clo was not on sentinel duty when the explosion came. The hole in the
+wall was open (she stuffed it up only when someone knocked, lest the
+pair should take alarm at the clearness of sounds), but it was late in
+the afternoon of a blazing hot day, and the girl lay on her narrow bed,
+disgusted with life. She had now paid for a second week in advance.
+There wasn't money to go on with for long, at the present rate, and she
+knew not how to get more, but it was too hot to trouble about the
+future. The quarrel next door was so sordid that Clo had ceased to
+listen, when suddenly the names "Olga and Stephen," spoken loudly by
+Kit, waked her from a half doze. With the light swiftness of a cat she
+sprang off the bed, and went to her post.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+"STEPHEN'S DEAD!"
+
+
+"I thought you'd sure know the whole story," Kit was saying.
+
+"I on'y knowed about Stephen. That I had to know," said Churn.
+
+"But you knew why Pete came to New York, instead of going West, when he
+got out of stir in Chicago?"
+
+"I know he come to kill Heron----"
+
+"Hully gee! Not so loud!"
+
+"Well, I know 'oo he came for den, if you like dat better."
+
+"But that wasn't the whole reason."
+
+"I knowed he was goin' to get hold o' some papers for Chuff; papers dat
+was mixed all up mit our business."
+
+"H'm! That's what Chuff wanted us to think--that they concerned us. But
+if you know about those papers, you must know the rest, about Olga."
+
+"I know vat Olga and Stephen vas to each other, if dat's vat you mean."
+
+"And who Olga is?"
+
+"Olga Beverley."
+
+"Greenhorn! You never got further than that?"
+
+"No. Vat for I get furder? I never see 'er. She's a name to me, dat's
+all. Nevaire vould I heard even dat name if I didn't take care o'
+Stephen, when Jake vas off on a bust or doin' a job for Chuff."
+
+"Funny we never got on to this line o' talk before," mused Kit.
+
+"I don't see vy 'funny.' You and me always haf something better to talk
+about, Katchen. And till dese nine days in dis hole, we never 'ad too
+much time together."
+
+"If Pete had been found dead and I hadn't done it, I'd say it was
+'Olga!' She was the woman who had to give up the papers to him. He told
+me he was waitin' for the papers to come. He said he wasn't sure whether
+she'd bring 'em herself, or this girl you've seen about in the
+newspapers; the one who called on him Sunday afternoon. I've told you
+about the women's voices in the hall, and someone sittin' plump on the
+trunk when I was inside. Well, if I could o' peeped, I bet I'd seen
+Olga. She was one of the women dressed for the automobile they're tryin'
+to trace an' can't."
+
+"Would you knowed Olga if you 'ad seen her?"
+
+"Would I? Say, did you never hear of Roger Sands?"
+
+"He was de guy who worked for Heron las' year, and got de gang goin'
+after him."
+
+"Well, it was Olga he married, but not with her own name. She'd took
+another so as to get away with the papers. She's had the papers from
+then till now. The thing that interests me, and maybe will you, is
+something else. It popped into my nut to-day that the pearls are hers! I
+bet something went wrong with the papers, and she gave Pete the pearls
+instead. I bet he was studyin' how to double-cross Chuff, and square
+himself when--when my act comes on."
+
+"What 'old would Chuff 'ave on a woman married mit a big fellah like
+Sands?" Churn wanted to know. "Vy she let herself be skinned like dat,
+for Stephen's dead an' stiff dese tree weeks or more?"
+
+"Yes," Kit repeated. "Stephen's been dead 'most a month. That's one
+reason they couldn't let things slide, so the minute Pete was free they
+put him on the job. He was keen, because of Heron. And John Heron blew
+into New York just the right time, for the plan. Pete was to get the
+papers first, and then--you know what."
+
+"Yes, I know dat. But Stephen--Stephen gone, what 'old 'ad Chuff on
+Olga?"
+
+"Booby, dear, Olga doesn't know Stephen's dead."
+
+Clo's blood rushed to her brain. She felt faint. Had she been on her
+feet she would have fallen. This was the one thing of all for Beverley.
+Clo felt that she hated this cruel Cheffinsky with an almost murderous
+hatred. How could she let Beverley know, and make her understand that
+"Stephen" was dead. Ought she to go back with her news to Park Avenue,
+and abandon the pearls? The police could never be asked to take a hand
+in this business, and before she could even ask help from O'Reilly and
+Denham, Churn might have disappeared. With herself as sentinel off duty,
+nothing was sure, for a dangerous restlessness possessed the pair.
+Still, Beverley would sacrifice the pearls for the knowledge that her
+enemies had no longer any hold upon her.
+
+"If I dared telegraph!" the girl thought. For she wanted Beverley to
+have both the knowledge and the pearls.
+
+About this hour Violet was in the habit of toiling up with beer for Kit
+and Churn, and water or lemonade for their neighbour. The woman was due
+in a few minutes and Clo spent the interval in concocting a message for
+Leontine Rossignol.
+
+"Tell your mistress I've had news since I last saw her that Stephen is
+dead," were the words she decided on, before Violet's arrival was
+advertised by a tinkle of ice.
+
+The telegram was delivered that night at the flat in Park Avenue, but
+Mr. and Mrs. Sands and their household had left for Newport. Only a
+parlour maid remained. She detested Leontine, being Bohemian by birth,
+while Leontine was French. Anna Schultz decided to forget indefinitely
+the telegram for Leontine Rossignol.
+
+When she had sent the message, Clo's thoughts went back to the pearls.
+She would be driven to leave the house soon for lack of money. If she
+had to go without the pearls, she would feel herself a failure. The net
+was proving tough for the tiny teeth of a mouse! But the mouse was ready
+to do anything rather than give up.
+
+That evening Churn again announced his intention to go out at any cost.
+Whither he was bound, Clo did not know, for she had missed scraps of
+talk in the next room. Kit cried, and in the midst of hysterical sobs,
+the door slammed. Churn had gone! Kit continued to sob.
+
+Clo's blood took fire. She flamed with courage. Having fixed upon her
+plan of action she darted into the passage and knocked on Kit's door.
+
+"Who's that?" came the sharp answer.
+
+"It's only me. The little girl from the next room," Clo explained in a
+small voice like a child's. Her hair hung over her shoulders, and she
+wore a cheap blue muslin dressing gown chosen by Violet.
+
+Kit threw open the door so suddenly, and stared so keenly through the
+dusk that Clo shrank back a little. "What do you want?" snapped Kit.
+
+"Oh, maybe I oughtn't to have come!" Clo apologized. "I heard you
+crying. And I'm so homesick and miserable myself! Don't be angry."
+
+Kit opened the door wide. Her bleached yellow hair bristled round her
+face.
+
+"I didn't know I was howling so loud. Say, can you hear us talkin', me
+and my husband? I hope we don't keep you awake nights."
+
+"You haven't kept me awake once," Clo assured her with truth. "Crying's
+easier to hear than talking. You see, I'm in trouble and I'm awfully
+lonely."
+
+"_I_ haven't got any real trouble," said Kit. "Me and my husband
+sometimes have a spat, like all married folks, and I'm fool enough to
+bawl. He's out now. Would you like me to come in and visit with you a
+while?"
+
+"I'd love it!" gasped Clo. She would have preferred an invitation to her
+neighbour's room, but she hoped for that later. Kit locked her door
+carefully and slipped the key down the neck of her dress. She accepted
+Clo's suggestion to sit on the bed, which was more comfortable than the
+one broken-backed chair. Question after question she put, which cost her
+hostess tiresome flights of imagination to answer. Clo was far from
+regretting her move, however. If Churn were absent long, or if he went
+out again, Kit said that she would return as an escape from boredom.
+
+It was eleven o'clock when once more Clo heard the two voices, and from
+their conversation Clo gathered that they did not expect Chuff back till
+the day after to-morrow.
+
+"Day after to-morrow!" echoed Kit. "Then we _must_ get Isaacs here
+to-morrow."
+
+"I t'ought of dat," said Churn. "I went up dere after I see Jake. Isaacs
+'as started for Chicago on business, and won't be back till the same day
+as Chuff, day after to-morrah."
+
+Clo drank in each word, and focussed her mind on its meaning. To-morrow,
+or the day after, her hour would come; then, or never.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+THE PATCH ON THE PILLOW
+
+
+Churn's excursion had justified itself, and the morning after his first
+absence he went out again. Toward noon Kit, in a "ready-to-wear" looking
+costume, knocked at Clo's door. "Thought you might want some candy," she
+said. "Shall I come in?"
+
+Clo was cordial, and tried to be entertaining. "If I can make her like
+me, perhaps she'll go down to a meal with Churn, and leave me on guard,"
+she reflected. Kit feared to stop long with her new friend lest Churn
+should arrive while she was "gadding." She dodged back and forth from
+room to room, and was at home to receive her husband in the afternoon.
+
+Next morning early Clo heard Churn announce that he would meet Isaacs'
+train at the Grand Central; the "old lady" had told him the time. Kit
+objected. "You might miss him. Best wait at his place," she advised. But
+Churn would not be persuaded. He had seen Jake again, who prophesied
+that Chuff would not arrive before the afternoon. They had the whole
+morning to see Isaacs and bargain with him, but it would be a waste of
+time to hang about at "Isaacs' place." Churn would catch Isaacs at the
+train, and bring him round to Kit. She must clear up the room, and have
+everything ship-shape in an hour. But Kit's anger grew as Churn
+insisted. "I know why you're mad to get to the Grand Central," she flung
+at him. "Didn't you s'pose I noticed the name on the candy box. Bah! I
+ain't a fool. You said you was sick of bein' boxed up with me. That put
+me wise."
+
+Churn protested innocence, and went off jauntily, but Clo looked for
+developments. "Kit's mum, to put Churn off the track," she thought. "But
+she means to follow him. She's bought no handbag. She can't very well
+take the pearls."
+
+Clo had read a paragraph concerning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Sands. It
+referred to the "house-warming party" they were giving at their "lately
+acquired cottage in Newport." Apparently the affair had been mentioned
+before in the column devoted to "Society" news, but Clo had missed it.
+The allusion to the "house-warming," and dinner dance set Clo's brain
+whirling. Angel would be expected by her husband to wear the queen's
+pearls. If he already guessed the secret, this might be a plan to force
+his wife's hand. Beverley feared him. Clo had seen that. Angel must have
+the pearls for to-morrow night. And they must be strung, ready to wear,
+or they would be useless to her, arriving at the last moment. The girl
+would have been at her wits' end, but for that quarrel next door. If Kit
+did go spying on Churn...!
+
+The door slammed after Churn. A second later Kit was knocking, calling
+her new friend by her new nickname: "Kid-Kid! Let me in, quick!"
+
+Clo let her in. Kit was pinning on a wide-brimmed hat, and had her hands
+full with a veil, gloves, and parasol. "Tie this veil for me, there's a
+good kid!" she panted. "I'm mad at my husband. He's off to flirt with a
+beast of a girl in a candy store. They had a mash before we married.
+You're goin' to be in all mornin', ain't you?"
+
+"I thought of running out to 'phone a friend of mine," said Clo,
+cleverly.
+
+"Don't! There's a 'phone in the house, the room under mine--room of a
+pal away till this afternoon. He left his key with Mrs. Mac, and she
+lent it to my husband last night so he could borrow some novels for me;
+our pal has lots. We've not given the key back, so when I come home I'll
+take you down. I want you to stay in while I'm gone. All you need do is
+to sit with your door open, and see if any one knocks at mine. And I've
+got the key. But it's the same as every old key; 'tain't a special one
+like Ch----like our pal's. If a stranger calls look close, so you can
+describe the person."
+
+"I undertake watchdogging in all its branches," said Clo. "Ta, ta!"
+
+"I count on you!" were Kit's last words at the top of the steps.
+
+"Bet your life you can!" the "kid" called after her. But as Kit ran
+downstairs, without stopping to look round, Clo dashed to her own open
+window. In a moment Kit's parasol went bobbing along the street. The
+coast was clear. Kit's manner made it certain that she had left the
+pearls behind.
+
+Violet would not come up for the two breakfast trays for a long time
+yet. Kit's opinion of the key was the same as that already formed by
+Clo, and the girl was wild to test it. She snatched her own key from its
+lock, to try it in Kit's door. It went in, but stopped at the critical
+turn. There were two more rooms on this floor; a small one opposite
+Clo's, tenanted by a young man who went to work at seven o'clock; and
+another still smaller, used as a storeroom--a refuge for trunks,
+dust-pans, and brooms. The early bird never locked his door, but his key
+fell short of success.
+
+The storeroom key remained. It did not fail. It turned all the way round
+in the lock, and Kit's door opened.
+
+Clo's was shut and locked, in case Violet should break her rule and come
+too soon.
+
+Not only did the girl expect to find the pearls, but Chuff's key, and
+she hoped to telephone if necessary, before making her "bolt." Wonderful
+that both these chances should fall together!
+
+Clo knew that the pearls were kept in a drawer; but Kit would not go out
+and leave them in so obvious a place. Nevertheless, Clo began by looking
+through the drawers, of which there were six.
+
+Churn's evening clothes hung from a hook on the wall; there was nothing
+in the pockets; nothing in the shoes which stood underneath except a
+pair of socks. Other hiding-place there was none, save the bed; and it
+was there that Clo expected to find the pearls.
+
+Kit had made the bed, and neatly patted the two ill-matched pillows into
+shape. Clo stripped off the unbleached covers of these pillows and
+looked for some sign that the ticking had been ripped open. There was a
+patch on the larger pillow. One end of this patch was unsewn and held in
+place with a pin. Underneath it something hard could be felt with the
+hand. Clo undid the pin, and thrusting in her hand pulled out a packet
+made of a red silk handkerchief tied round with gold string from a
+confectioner's. Clo squeezed the tight folds of silk. They held the
+pearls.
+
+It seemed a waste of time to open the handkerchief. She longed to run
+out of the house with her treasure, without a second's delay. Why search
+for Chuff's key? As she had found the pearls she did not need to 'phone.
+The girl was at the door, with her hand on the key, before she realized
+how mad it would be not to make certain of her find.
+
+Yes, the pearls were really there, the darlings! She re-wrapped the
+parcel, and again was at the door when another thought struck her.
+Better make the bed look as it had looked before. She returned, put the
+pillows back into their covers, stood them up in place, and during the
+process decided that she would spare a moment to search for Chuff's key.
+It might come in handy. Kit had let drop that the key was a special key.
+Clo guessed that at times there were things to hide, and then Chuff
+would forget to leave that key for his friends! "It might be useful to
+Mr. O'Reilly's Denham," she thought. "If I can find it quick----"
+
+And flitting about the room she pounced upon a key which answered Kit's
+description. It was on the mantelpiece--a small, flat key, of a
+"special" kind, because it was made for a Yale lock.
+
+She shut the door softly behind her, and locked it as she went out. The
+borrowed key she replaced in the storeroom. Then she unlocked her own
+door, and tearing off the blue wrapper, put on the tan-coloured linen
+suit Violet had bought in a sale, for five dollars. There was a tan
+straw hat, too (Clo dared not appear in the brown toque and coat
+described by the newspapers), and a cheap handbag purchased for the
+pearls in case she should get them. It was a tight fit for the red silk
+bundle, but she squeezed it in, and added the big pearl found in
+Peterson's room. She would also have tucked in the Yale key, but the bag
+refused to shut, and she kept the key in her hand. What money she had
+left, she slipped inside her blouse; everything else she abandoned. Kit
+would rage in vain when she looked for the red handkerchief parcel.
+
+"I can't have been half an hour," she thought, as she tripped past the
+breakfast trays and started downstairs. "Kit and Churn may be out a long
+while yet. I'd hate to come face to face with 'em in the street!"
+
+Less than half way down, she heard Violet's voice, and her nerves
+jumped. "On my way up for them trays o'yourn," the woman said.
+
+To whom was she speaking? Kit back already? Yes, Kit was answering her:
+"I'll run up ahead. I'm in a hurry."
+
+The voices sounded near. Clo felt that her blood was turning to water.
+Should she fly back and lock herself into her room? No, for Kit would
+discover her loss, and would guess what had happened. A fight for the
+pearls would be too uncertain, and Kit would call Mrs. Mac and Vi to the
+rescue, or Churn might come----But could she hope to pass safely if she
+went on? No, she had promised to guard the door. Kit would accuse and
+stop her if they met.
+
+In her anguish Clo's fingers closed upon Chuff's key. If only she could
+hide in Chuff's room before Kit reached his floor! She stumbled down the
+last few steps, and paused at the room under Kit's. Would the key fit?
+It went deep into the small keyhole, and turned. Kit must be close to
+the top of the stairs now.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+TRAPPED
+
+
+Trembling the girl locked herself into Chuff's room and went straight to
+the telephone. If O'Reilly were at home he would make a dash to the
+rescue. Her hand was on the receiver when she remembered that she was
+marooned. She was ignorant of the 'phone number and had never dared
+inquire the number of the house or street. Now, when it was too late,
+she wished with all her heart that she had slipped out late at night,
+while Kit and Churn slept, and thus found her bearings. She had not
+gone, because the pair always talked till after midnight, and the later
+the hour the more important their confidences. But surely she could not
+fall over this small stumbling block! The girl ran to a writing table
+and opened the blotting-book. It was old, thickly patterned with stains,
+but it contained not a single sheet of paper. She pulled out a drawer.
+There was writing paper in it, but unstamped. While she fumbled, hoping
+for an old envelope addressed to Chuff, the girl could hear the patter
+of feet overhead. Kit was in her own room walking about. Suddenly the
+boards ceased to creak. Kit had stopped. Was it at the bedside? Was she
+pulling the cover off the patched pillow?
+
+Clo had turned to a shelf crowded with books and magazines when a new
+idea came to her. She snatched up the blotter and held it open, in front
+of a mirror, over the mantelpiece. "Dear Peterson," she read, "Churn
+will take you this, and----"
+
+The line beneath mingled with others, and could not be disentangled, but
+the address of the house had been written above, and could be clearly
+read.
+
+With a sigh of thanksgiving Clo ran to the telephone, called up Central,
+and asked for the Dietz Hotel. Her voice could no doubt be heard in the
+hall outside, and might even reach Kit's ears upstairs. But the door
+must be broken before she could be torn from the 'phone, and at this
+hour, when all the men boarders were out there was no strong arm for
+such work. Meantime, O'Reilly might come. The girl longed for him with a
+new and desperate longing.
+
+The Dietz answered quickly. Mr. Justin O'Reilly was still staying in the
+hotel, but he had gone out. Tears started to Clo's eyes. She was trapped
+now, and must summon Beverley to get the pearls. She had not the Sands'
+'phone number, and must ask Central to call the Park Avenue apartment.
+When she had done this, silence fell. But it was only for a moment. Clo
+stood, with her ear at the receiver still, when a loud bang on the door
+made her jump as though she had been shot. The door knob turned.
+
+"You little devil!" shrilled Kit's voice. "You--thief! I know you're
+there. Wait till I catch you!"
+
+"Hello!" spoke a foreign-sounding voice through the 'phone--the voice of
+a woman. "Hello! Yes, this is Mrs. Sands' flat. Mr. and Mrs. Sands are
+not at home."
+
+"When will they be back?" asked Clo.
+
+"I don't know that," answered the cold voice of Anna Schultz. "It may be
+a long time."
+
+The girl had an instant of despair, but she was not yet beaten. As Kit
+pounded furiously on the door, Clo called up the jeweller where Ellen
+Blackburne was employed. Ellen had been in but gone out again; but, oh,
+she had just returned. She would step to the 'phone.
+
+A moment later Ellen's calm "Hello" seemed to travel to her from a
+far-distant, peaceful world.
+
+"This is Clo," replied the girl, conscious that voices outside the door
+ceased their clamour in order that ears might hear her message. "Yes, I
+said Clo! For God's sake get into a taxi and rush to the number and
+street I'm going to give you. Listen! Don't stop to ask questions. When
+you get here, you don't need to come in. I'll drop something out of the
+window. You can guess what. I'll expect you quick. Good-bye!"
+
+"I heard you!" shrieked Kit. "_I_ can guess, too! You've stolen my
+pearls, and you think you'll pass 'em on to some other thief. But you
+won't, you devil! We'll have this door down in five minutes."
+
+Clo went to the window, rolled up the blind, and raised the sash.
+
+"Why won't you let me call the police?" she heard Mrs. Mac asking. "I
+tell you it's the only thing. I----"
+
+"She won't let you do it because she stole the pearls herself," cried
+Clo, darting across the room to put her lips to the keyhole. "And that's
+not all she's afraid of."
+
+"I'll kill you when I get my hands round your throat," Kit screamed her
+down.
+
+"I won't be the first you've killed. Take care!" Clo retorted, and was
+then stung with regret for her boldness. There would be no mercy for her
+now from Kit or Churn when the door gave way. They would know that she'd
+been the woman at the telephone masquerading as Kit.
+
+But, if only Miss Blackburne came first, before they broke in, she
+didn't much care. With the pearls safe, she could fight for herself.
+
+"Hurrah, by all that's good, here's my Boy!" crowed Kit outside the
+door. "Churn! you've come! Mr. Isaacs, too! I was never so glad in my
+life to see any one as you both! There's a thief in Mr. Cheffinsky's
+room--the girl that's been living next door to us. She's stole my poor
+little string o' beads."
+
+Men's voices spoke. Churn and Isaacs were indeed there! The girl put her
+ear to the keyhole once more, and listened.
+
+"What did I tell you about dat key?" Churn caught her up. "You're ten
+kinds of a fool, girl. But de tief's dere all right, you say?"
+
+"Yes, she's there all right. She must have took Chuff's key off our
+mantelpiece. You left it there! The little brute's been 'phonin' some
+pal to come in a taxi so she can drop my pearls out the window."
+
+"Let me go down and talk things over with the pal when he comes," said
+another voice that was very smooth, and had a lisp. Clo deduced that it
+was the voice of Isaacs.
+
+"Yes, do go down!" The girl jeered him through the keyhole. "I'll call
+from the window what you are, a fence; that's your nickname. You're a
+receiver of stolen goods."
+
+For a few breathless moments there was no sound. Clo wondered if Ellen
+had started, and how soon the taxi might arrive. She went again to the
+window and looked out. There was no taxi in sight, no vehicle of any
+sort, but children playing, women chatting together. Clo wished that she
+might shriek at the top of her voice "Help!" "Thieves!" "Murder!" A
+policeman would surely come, and she and the pearls would be saved. But
+Beverley would be lost. The story of the pearls would come out somehow.
+As she gazed like Sister Anne from the tower, two things happened. In
+the house, a blow from a hammer made the door quiver; in the street a
+taxi came swinging into sight.
+
+"They'll have the door down!" Clo gasped. "But if only that's Ellen
+she'll be just in time."
+
+The bag containing the pearls in their red wrapping was in the girl's
+hand. She stood, prepared to throw it if Ellen appeared. The taxi was
+slowing down. Yes, it was stopping in front of the house. It must be
+Ellen--but no! A man stepped out, and glanced quickly in all directions.
+He did not look up at the window, where Clo had shrunk back as far as
+she could, not to lose sight of what went on below. He was furtively
+intent upon a gray limousine car, with several men in it, which had
+followed the taxi along the street. The motor passed on, however, and
+its occupants (there were four or five, Clo fancied) were busily
+talking. They did not look out, or interest themselves in the stopping
+of the taxi. The man who had come in the latter had the air of hiding
+behind it, as he paid the chauffeur and carefully counted his change;
+but the instant the limousine had slid ahead, regardless of him, he ran
+up the steps. Clo, at the window, could see him no more.
+
+"What if it's Chuff?" she thought, "and he finds them breaking down his
+door?"
+
+Somehow she had the impression that Cheffinsky was even more wicked than
+Churn, a man without scruples, a man who would stop at nothing for his
+own advantage.
+
+"Crack!" went one of the panels, and Clo, flying to the door, snatched
+the key from the keyhole. She knew the panel could not last many
+minutes, and a picture rose before her mind of a hand pushing through a
+hole, to turn the key in the lock. Anyhow, that should not happen!
+
+Back she fled to the window again, and stared anxiously out.
+
+Another taxi appeared. The gray limousine had turned, and was coming
+back, also. But Clo cared only for the taxi. It was slowing down. A
+woman thrust her head out and looked up--a neat little head in a black
+toque. "Miss Blackburne!" The girl cried shrilly. The taxi stopped. But
+the door stuck. Oh, why didn't the silly chauffeur jump off his seat and
+help?
+
+Crash! The panel broke with a loud shriek of rending wood. The hammer
+came through, and was jerked quickly out again. A man's hand seized a
+jagged piece of the panel and tore it away. An eye peered through the
+aperture, but Clo was at the window.
+
+"Quick--quick!" she implored, and brandished the bag far over the sill.
+
+The eye disappeared from the panel, and the muzzle of a revolver took
+its place.
+
+Miss Blackburne had jumped down on to the pavement.
+
+"If you throw out that bag, I fire," a voice warned Clo--a new voice,
+not Churn's.
+
+The girl glanced round involuntarily, and saw the small black object
+imbedded in the smashed door panel. Her nerves jerked, but she turned
+back to the window, with a sensation of ice in her spine.
+
+"String these and get them to _her_, if you have to take them to
+Newport!" she cried.
+
+There was a queer muffled explosion, not unlike the breaking of wood,
+yet somehow different. Clo felt a blow on the shoulder, and then a
+strange, heart-rending pain. She staggered, fell forward on to her
+knees, hanging over the window sill. But she threw the bag. A red light
+flamed in her eyes, not like the light of the summer day. Through the
+redness she thought she saw a little woman in black catch the bag and
+stand still, looking up. Clo tried to wave her hand, motioning "Go
+on--hurry!" and her lips formed the words. She was not sure whether the
+woman went, or whether she had been stopped at the taxi door by some men
+getting out of that gray limousine; the cloud of red had grown so thick.
+But there were noises behind her. The men in the hall had burst the door
+open. She could not look round again. Her head rested upon her arm,
+lying on the window sill. Then someone was dragging her away. It was all
+over for her in this world! But Beverley's pearls were saved.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+THE TIME LIMIT OF HOPE
+
+
+A big, blond man had hustled Mrs. Mac and Violet downstairs before the
+shot was fired. It was bewildering to them that Mr. Cheffinsky should
+come home after his strange absence with his beautiful golden beard and
+moustache shaved off.
+
+Cheffinsky was like an officer directing a defence. He took command
+instantly he entered the house, seeming to understand the situation
+without a question. "If any one rings, let Violet be a long time opening
+the door," he said. "But it must be opened. Don't act as if there was
+something to hide. Keep 'em talking, no matter who, or about what as
+long as you can. There's been a theft from a lady boarder, and a little
+excitement; you've only to tell the truth--see?"
+
+All this in a second; but it got the two women out of the way. The spy
+must be muzzled at any cost, for Cheffinsky guessed at a word from Kit
+that this was the mysterious girl of the telephone.
+
+"Pick her up," he said to Kit, when they had got the locked door open.
+"If any eyes are on that window, it won't look too queer for one girl to
+pull another back into the room."
+
+As the other two women had done, Kit obeyed. She was used to obeying
+Chuff in the past. She dragged Clo to the back of the room, out of sight
+from the window, and awaited further commands.
+
+"Now," Chuff said, "if we're spotted, this is a suicide--see? She stole
+your pearls, and when she was caught she killed herself."
+
+"But the shot's in her shoulder--and she ain't dead. She's opening her
+eyes," Kit objected.
+
+"She's got to be dead," Chuff decreed. "I know how to fix the bullet
+business. It'll have to be done now, because if trouble comes it will
+come quick. Look here; this is the thing to do, if there's questions to
+answer. You caught her stealing. She ran down to this room from yours,
+threw the stuff out of the window to a pal, and then grabbed my Browning
+from the mantelpiece. She'd have shot you, but seeing the men, knew the
+game was up, and did for herself instead. Shut the window, Kit. I'm
+going to put another ball into her, in the chest, just opposite the spot
+of blood on her back. Carry her into the closet, to cover the sound. I
+mustn't touch her myself. There's spots on you already. Account for them
+by saying you picked her up to see if she was alive."
+
+"But if she's in the closet----"
+
+"She ran there, and shot at you from inside the door, after we'd all
+broken into the room to get at her. Is that clear to you both? We must
+stick to the same story. Into the closet with her, Kit."
+
+Clo felt a strange sensation, as if her soul had left the body that hung
+limp in Kit's strong arms, and was gazing at it with impersonal pity.
+"The worst will be ended for me in a minute," she thought. Then,
+suddenly, she remembered Justin O'Reilly. A great desolation of
+loneliness swept over her. He would be sorry. But he was far away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Clo telephoned, Ellen Blackburne did not even know that the Sands
+were out of New York. The message, however, instantly awoke her sleeping
+interest. She guessed that Clo had tracked the thief, and that what she
+called the "weird address" given was the "lair." Miss Blackburne was no
+coward, and the astonishing request that came over the telephone wires
+did not frighten her. She prepared to follow instructions at once,
+taking only one precaution. Before starting, she left word that if she
+did not 'phone or return within an hour, inquiries were to be made at
+the house and in the street whose number she wrote down.
+
+The pearl-stringer did, therefore, precisely what she had been asked to
+do. She abandoned the work laid out for the morning, and dashed off in a
+taxi on a moment's notice. Clo's little face at the window of a
+tenth-rate boarding-house told her nothing new. Clo was always pale.
+When the girl dropped to her knees it looked to Ellen as if that
+attitude were more convenient for throwing down the bag. No sound of a
+pistol shot reached Ellen's ears over the noises of the street. She
+heard only the "teuf-teuf" of her own taxi, and the snort of a big gray
+car which had at that instant come to a stop close by. Miss Blackburne
+was used to odd adventures, and prided herself on "keeping cool," but
+she could not help giving an undignified jump as a man sprang out of the
+gray limousine and laid a hand on her arm.
+
+"What is in that bag and where are you taking it? I've a right to know,"
+he said sharply. "I'm a friend of Miss Riley."
+
+Ellen grabbed at the door of her taxi. The man was about thirty or
+thirty-two, she thought, certainly a gentleman and rather handsome. "I'm
+acting for Miss Riley," she returned as sharply. "My name's Blackburne.
+Clo's in a hurry for me to do an errand. If you're really her friend,
+you'd better let me get away while you look after her."
+
+The two eyed each other for an instant. "You are Miss Ellen Blackburne,
+the pearl-stringer?" the man inquired.
+
+"The same," she answered.
+
+"Then go on her errand!" he exclaimed. And while Ellen stared, he ran up
+the steps of the house where a companion had already rung the bell.
+Neither of the men looked again at her. Ellen waited for no more. To
+save delay and further suspense for Mrs. Sands she drove straight to the
+Park Avenue house, in order to string the pearls there: for she had
+hastily collected her materials before starting. It was a blow to hear
+from the hall porter that the Sands had already left New York; she
+decided on going up to get further information. She even thought of
+sending a long-distance message to Beverley from her own flat; but the
+grim personality of Anna Schultz banished this idea at a glance. Ellen
+realized that if she asked to enter the apartment she would be regarded
+as a suspicious character. Important business with Mrs. Sands would take
+her to Newport immediately, she told Miss Schultz. If there were any
+letter or parcel to be sent she would carry it.
+
+Anna's reply to this offer was a stiff refusal, but Miss Blackburne had
+not reached the lift when the woman came after her. "I've just
+remembered, there's a telegram for Mrs. Sands' French maid, you might
+give her by hand, if you're going to Newport to-day," she said, with a
+grudging air. "It will be quicker than posting." Anna Schultz slipped
+the envelope into Ellen's hand, and turned away without waiting for an
+answer.
+
+Having telephoned to the jewellers where she was employed, Ellen decided
+to string the pearls at home. She dared not dash off to Newport without
+seeing her mother, and arranging with a neighbour to stop in the house
+while she was gone. On second thoughts, she told herself that, for Mrs.
+Sands' own sake, it might be best not to risk a reassuring message of
+any sort in advance. Someone else might happen to receive it! She
+determined simply to work as fast as possible, and take the first train
+she could catch for Newport, with the restrung rope of pearls.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Beverley dreaded the night of the dance more even than she had dreaded
+her mission, nearly a year ago, in Albuquerque.
+
+It seemed very long since she had been radiantly happy in the thought of
+this glorified cottage at Newport--"Gulls' Rest"--Roger's present to
+her. She hated it now, and everything associated with it; the fuss of
+settling into the place, in a foolish hurry, though the Newport season
+had not yet begun: Roger's determination to begin with a house-party and
+a dance; his civil, quiet coldness to her; the strange look she caught
+in his eyes at times; the mystery of Clo's silence, which deepened day
+by day; fear of reprisals for loss of the papers; these things seemed
+harder to bear in Newport than at home in New York. Often Beverley
+wondered how long she would be sane.
+
+The Sands had brought with them a couple of friends: two others had
+joined them the day after, and half a dozen more had come since. Roger
+had engaged all the rooms in a small but delightful hotel for extra
+guests who would arrive for the dance and stay the night; and, in
+advance of the season as the house-warming was, word had gone out that
+the entertainment would be worth a long journey. The favours for the
+cotillon were said to have cost ten thousand dollars; and there was to
+be a "surprise" of some sort. Perhaps this was the reason why Mrs. Heron
+changed her mind, and John Heron wired to Roger that he and his wife
+would be pleased to come on from Narragansett, where they were spending
+a weekend for Heron's health.
+
+The invitation had been sent to the Herons by Roger's firmly expressed
+wish, but Beverley had not dreamed that it would be accepted. And, after
+all, they were both coming to the dance! This seemed ominous. It gave
+her one more fear for the dreaded night.
+
+Through the morning she still wildly hoped for news from Clo. Even as
+the afternoon wore on she did not utterly despair; but at six o'clock,
+when Roger advised her and the other women staying in the house to rest
+till dressing-time, she definitely gave up. For the first time since
+that Sunday night which marked the end of happiness, Roger slipped his
+hand under her arm in a friendly, familiar way.
+
+"Come along," he said. "I'll trot you up to your room and see that you
+lie down. I want you to look your best to-night; and you know dinner's
+at eight. You won't have more than an hour's nap. I suppose it'll take
+you at least an hour to dress?"
+
+"Just about," Beverley answered, dully. She knew that she could not
+sleep, but she was worn out with the effort of "keeping up" before her
+guests. She expected Roger to leave her at the door of her room, which
+he had entered only when the house was being shown to friends; but to
+her surprise, almost alarm, he followed her in. She said that she would
+not ring yet for Leontine. She would unfasten her own frock and find her
+own dressing-gown.
+
+"I'll draw the curtains for you," Roger suggested, in the coolly kind
+manner to which she had grown accustomed during the black fortnight.
+"One rests one's brain best in twilight, I think. I'm sure you need
+rest. I never saw you so pale. I hope you're not worried about
+to-night?"
+
+"Worried? Why should I be worried?" she echoed. "I'm sure everything
+will go well, aren't you?"
+
+"I hope so," he said, gravely. "You haven't shown me your new dress. I
+suppose it's come?"
+
+"Oh, yes," Beverley replied, convinced that it was not about the dress
+he thought or cared. "It came the day after we arrived."
+
+"Good! Then you'll be able to do full justice to the pearls!"
+
+Beverley had the impulse to throw herself into her husband's arms and
+upon his mercy; but she would not, or could not--she hardly knew which.
+It seemed to her that he was being purposely cruel, and was deliberately
+testing, torturing her, to see how much she could bear and not break.
+"Let him find out when the time comes," she thought, in sullen despair.
+Instead of confessing her trouble she asked if he would like to see her
+new gown.
+
+"No," Roger said. "I'll wait till you're ready and I can see you in your
+glory--pearls and all."
+
+Beverley merely smiled an answer, and wondered what Roger thought of her
+smile. He drew the curtain, and led her to rest, asking at the door that
+she would promise to call him when she was dressed. "I want to have a
+good look at you before you go downstairs," he added as he went out.
+
+Adjoining Beverley's bedroom was a small room whose wall appeared to be
+composed entirely of mirrors. It was a glorified wardrobe with mirror
+doors, and light and ventilation came from above. Behind the mirror
+doors were deep closets, some of which were lined with cedar, others
+with sandalwood; and at the back of one was an ingeniously concealed
+safe. In this safe Mrs. Roger Sands' jewels had already been placed, and
+among them was the empty case which had contained the queen's pearls.
+Beverley slid back the sandalwood panel, and opened the steel door
+behind it, which was manipulated by a miniature time-lock.
+
+"Suppose I wear diamonds and emeralds," she thought, "and tell Roger
+they match better with my dress than the pearls--that I'll wear the
+pearls another time?"
+
+But at the best this would only postpone the evil moment.
+
+She took off her dress of embroidered white organdie, and put on a _robe
+de chambre_. Then she dropped wearily down on a great, cushiony sofa,
+not to rest, but because she had nothing else to do.
+
+It was very still in her room, save for a far-off murmur of waves below
+the rocks. When she had remained thus for about three quarters of an
+hour she sprang up, her brain throbbing more feverishly, her body
+quivering more uncontrollably than when she had lain down. It was close
+upon seven o'clock, and she rang for Leontine. Her hair had to be done,
+and the whole process of dressing would need quite an hour.
+
+"I daresay Mary Stuart took a lot of pains dressing to have her head cut
+off," she thought bitterly.
+
+Leontine came, and made ready her mistress's bath. She emptied a bottle
+of eau de Cologne into the tepid water, but for once the refreshing
+scent failed to revive Beverley. She was like a creature in a dream as
+Leontine wound her long hair in bands round her head (a new fashion
+Roger had fallen in love with a few weeks ago), fastening it here and
+there with diamond pins. "Madame will be late if we are not careful,"
+the Frenchwoman said. "Everything takes so long to-night." She laid on
+the floor at Beverley's feet a cloud of silver gauze, supple as chiffon.
+It was the new dress and Madame must step into it to avoid ruffling her
+hair. Beverley obeyed, and when her arms had slid into the odd little
+jewelled sleeves, she let Leontine draw her gently in front of a mirror.
+
+"Madame is like a marvellous statue of ivory and silver," the maid
+exclaimed. "But she should have some colour. If Madame--but no, it is
+too late. There is a knock. It will be Monsieur. Shall I open the door?"
+
+"Yes, open the door," Beverley echoed. Her voice sounded metallic and
+unnatural in her own ears.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+"WE DO THINGS QUICKLY OVER HERE"
+
+
+"Is this heaven?" Clo wondered.
+
+"No, you darling, it's not. It's our same poor old world; but it'll be
+near heaven if you'll get well and live for me," said Justin O'Reilly.
+Then it seemed to the girl that she heard a very odd, choking sound, and
+on to her half-parted lips fell a drop of something hot. She tasted
+this, and found it salt.
+
+"You--you can't be crying?" she mumbled.
+
+"I am." O'Reilly answered, "crying with joy. I don't remember doing it
+before--in joy or sorrow. Here goes another tear! Sorry! I couldn't help
+spilling it on you. Shan't happen again."
+
+O'Reilly's face was close to hers. She smiled up at him. Everything
+seemed strange except that he should call her darling. That, somehow,
+was not strange at all. Nor was it strange that his head should be bent
+over her upturned face. Yet he said it was the same poor old world!
+
+"I thought I was dead," she explained.
+
+"I thought so, too, for a minute, and it was the worst minute and the
+worst thought I ever had. But you're alive. And you're going to live. I
+tell you that on the doctor's authority. He and the nurse are having a
+confab in the next room. In fact, when we saw you coming to all right,
+after the anaesthetic (a bullet had to come out of your poor little
+shoulder!) I asked them to leave me alone with you. I wanted to be the
+first one your eyes saw. You're going to live for me, aren't you?
+Because I adore you, you know!"
+
+"I know," the girl echoed, floating on a strange, bright wave of joy.
+
+"You know I adore you?"
+
+"Something told me it would come out like that," she said. "In those
+long days when I had to lie still in my room and listen to Kit and
+Churn, another voice--so different from theirs!--seemed to say it in my
+ear. Your message for me in the newspaper--I was sure it was for me--put
+it into my head. I couldn't answer. But the message was the greatest
+comfort! I didn't feel alone after that."
+
+"Precious one! You're a star heroine, and a martyr and a saint, and I
+don't know what not. But most of all, you are my life--my very life.
+I've had a big disappointment since I parted from you--lost a thing I'd
+wanted for years--lost it to Roger Sands. His revenge for--I hardly know
+what! Yet finding you and holding you like this shows me that nothing
+else matters. What's a house, anyhow, except this darling house not made
+with hands--your little body, house of your soul? When you know me
+better, could you learn to love me, do you think, if I try hard to teach
+you?"
+
+"Oh, but I do love you already," said Clo, as a matter of course. "Even
+that first night--there was something about you--I hated to cheat and
+rob you the way I did. And it was wonderful hearing your voice in the
+telephone, in Peterson's dreadful room. It wasn't only that I hoped
+you'd help, it was because it was you--because you were different for me
+from anybody else, different even from Angel."
+
+"Good Lord, I should hope so!"
+
+"And I've wanted you dreadfully ever since. That's why I thought it must
+be heaven when I woke up just now and saw you."
+
+"You angel!"
+
+"How funny you should call me that. Oh, I've almost forgotten my poor
+Angel! I must get to her, somehow." Clo looked around hastily, and
+realized that she was lying on a bed in a peculiarly unattractive room,
+and that O'Reilly was kneeling on the floor by the bedside. "How wicked
+of me to think more about you than her!"
+
+"If you mean Mrs. Sands, you shall go to her when you're able. Mrs.
+Sands is all right. You sent her something rather important by Miss
+Blackburne, the pearl-stringer that you told me about that night in the
+taxi--and in Krantz's Keller. I talked to the woman--and cursed myself
+afterward for stopping to speak, when I found you and saw how every
+instant had counted. I oughtn't to have waited even for a second."
+
+"Oh, you couldn't have saved me if you'd come up without speaking to
+Ellen. The shot was fired before I threw out the bag with the pearls,"
+Clo broke in. "I remember now. Someone fired through the hole in the
+door. It was Chuff, I'm sure. It didn't hurt much. It was like a heavy
+blow, and I couldn't help dropping on my knees at the window. I felt
+weak and queer, but I called to Ellen. Then somebody picked me up--Kit,
+I think. I could hear them arguing what to do with me. Funny! I thought
+of you then--and that's the last I remember till now."
+
+"I must have been in the house by that time," O'Reilly soothed her. "I
+had come for you! I was sure you'd be where Kit was, because of the
+pearls. Denham and I had been trying to track Churn and Kit and
+Chuff--all the lot you told me about--ever since you turned me down, in
+Krantz's Keller."
+
+"I didn't turn you down!"
+
+"No, I don't mean that! You were a brave little soldier going into
+battle on your own."
+
+"A soldier? No, I was only a mouse."
+
+"I know. 'The lion's mouse.' And to gnaw the net the lion was caught in,
+you had to stick your head into another lion's den. But some memoranda
+you'd picked up and left for us put Denham on the right trail. He
+doesn't need much of a pointer, that chap! He fairly jumped on to the
+track of a fellow named Isaacs--at least Isaacs is his 'alias'--a man
+who's been suspected for a long time as a receiver of stolen goods--a
+fence. When I got the tip that Kit and Churn were staying in the house
+where we were to spot Chuff, I was sure I had the clue to you. I wish to
+God we'd been five minutes earlier; but I thank Him we weren't five
+minutes too late! If the police eventually bring the crime home to Kit
+(that's improbable, Denham thinks) there's nothing to link up the story
+with the name of Mrs. Sands."
+
+"Oh, I'm not sure!" breathed Clo. "Kit knows about her. She told Churn."
+
+"She won't tell any one else, you may depend on that. If she's accused
+of the murder, she won't confess to stealing somebody's pearls as her
+motive. She'll say that Peterson insulted her, and she feared him; some
+sob-sister stuff of that sort."
+
+"She did complain to Churn that Pete was horrible to her, and that if
+Churn had been there to hear what he said, he'd have killed him quick,"
+Clo remembered.
+
+"You see, she wanted to clear herself in the eyes of her best young man!
+How much more anxious she'd be to keep on the same line if it came to
+saving herself from the Chair! You can make your mind easy about your
+friend Mrs. Sands. I won't say a word against her. You love her. You may
+be right, I may be wrong. I'm growing humble. I don't set my judgment
+against yours, even though I know some things about the lady which it's
+probable you don't know. But she's been good to you. That makes all the
+difference to me. She's to be saved from the consequences of things
+which--you'll never hear from my lips. Saved she shall be if it depends
+at all on yours ever. But you've done so much that little more remains."
+
+"Then you'll give her the papers?"
+
+"The papers you returned to me that Sunday night?"
+
+"It wasn't I who returned them. I don't know who did send them. It's the
+greatest mystery! But if you love me, you'll hand them back."
+
+O'Reilly looked grave. "I love you," he said, "more than I ever thought
+it was in me to love, though I had an idea it might go hard with me when
+my time came. But I gave the papers to Heron, whose property they
+were--and are. I was only keeping them for him because he had reason to
+think they weren't safe in his possession."
+
+"John Heron!" Clo echoed. A thought had suddenly started out from the
+background of her mind, pushing in front of her fears for Beverley.
+"Yes, of course, he's a friend of yours! But he's in worse danger than
+his papers ever were. From things they said, I believe Pete came East on
+purpose to kill him. Of course, there were the papers to get as well.
+But he wanted to kill John Heron. It was Chuff who ordered him to get
+the papers. Pete had some grudge of his own against Mr. Heron, so he
+made a good catspaw. When Pete was killed, Chuff had to find someone
+else to do the job. I don't know John Heron, and never saw him in my
+life, so I----"
+
+"There you're mistaken," O'Reilly broke in. "Did you notice any one
+coming out of a room next to my suite when you were letting yourself in
+with my key which you had--er--found?"
+
+"Yes!" cried Clo. "A beautiful woman in a black dress with gorgeous
+jewellery; and a tall man with reddish hair and beard and--Oh, eyes!
+Great dark eyes that looked at me in a strange way. I felt them in my
+spine."
+
+"That was the first time you saw John Heron, the man his enemies still
+call the Oil Trust King--though thanks to Roger Sands they daren't call
+him that out aloud. The second time must have been in Heron's own room.
+But you shall judge for yourself. He'd been downstairs with his wife. He
+went up to his rooms again for something, and in the hall outside his
+own door--which he'd just unlocked--he fell down in a sort of fainting
+fit. Well, putting two and two together, after you told me your
+adventure creeping along the ledge from my window to his, it occurred to
+me that there'd been just cause for the seizure. I didn't think Heron
+was the man to keel over in a faint, even for a thing like that. All the
+same, seeing that ghostly vision would account for his attack."
+
+"I understand," said Clo. "I saw he was flabbergasted. But that first
+time at the door, when he was with his wife, he didn't look at me as if
+I were a stranger. It was as if he knew me, and almost fell over himself
+to see me again. That was the feeling I had, but I was--a little
+excited."
+
+"Most girls would have been corpses!"
+
+"I felt like a live coal. But we mustn't let the gang make a corpse of
+Mr. Heron, must we? Let's warn him. Where are we, anyhow?"
+
+"Same house you were in. Doctor said it wouldn't be safe to move you. We
+disinfected the best we could in a hurry, and he extracted the bullet
+from your poor little shoulder. Thank God, I was in time, or there might
+have been another bullet or two, that couldn't be extracted! You're all
+right now, or will be with a little rest, and we'll get you into a
+nursing home. As for Heron, he and his wife have gone to Narragansett.
+That's close to Newport, you know, where Mrs. Sands is."
+
+"Angel in Newport already! Then the pearls--but I told Ellen Blackburne
+to take them there if she had to. Do you think she will?"
+
+"Sure! She'll catch the first train."
+
+"No. She won't do that. She thinks of her mother before everything. But
+the ball's not till to-morrow. Angel won't need the pearls till then.
+Oh, if I could be sure she'll get them! I can't rest till I'm sure. I
+must go to Newport. I must."
+
+"When you're strong enough."
+
+"I'm strong enough now. Is it late?"
+
+"Getting on toward evening. You were a long time coming to yourself.
+Presently the doctor will say whether you can be moved to-night to that
+nursing home."
+
+"If I can be moved to a nursing home I can be moved to Newport. Tell the
+doctor I shall burst if I can't go."
+
+"You may tell him yourself."
+
+"I _must_ go. I must know if all goes right with the pearls. I must know
+if it's better or worse for Angel that Stephen's dead."
+
+"Stephen's dead!"
+
+"Yes. Did you know him?"
+
+"I know of him. He is----"
+
+"Don't tell me. She mightn't want me to hear. I haven't heard anything
+except that Kit and Churn talked about his having died, and said Angel
+had been cheated."
+
+"By Jove, I begin to see light."
+
+"Now you see why I must go to her? And you've forgotten maybe what I
+told you about Mr. Heron. If he's near Newport, I----"
+
+"Look here, darling, if the doctor says you can be taken there
+to-morrow--oh, in time to arrive before the famous ball--let's say in a
+comfortable motor car, travelling slowly, banked up on cushions, will
+you go as my wife?"
+
+Clo stared as if O'Reilly had broken into some strange language which he
+expected her to understand. "Your wife?"
+
+"Well--don't you expect to marry me? That's what happens when a girl and
+a man love each other."
+
+"Oh--some day--if you're sure you really want an ignorant little girl
+like me, brought up in an orphan asylum, who's worked in a shop and
+hasn't a penny in the world--except a dollar or two left of Mrs. Sands'
+money. A long time from now, when you've thought about it----"
+
+"I've thought of nothing else since we met and parted, and I realized
+that you were my life and soul. If you can make up your mind to 'some
+day,' it might just as well be to-morrow. Don't you want to console me
+for the loss of the only other thing, besides you, I've ever wanted with
+all my heart? You do if you love me. The dear old house that was my
+father's! You know, when you sent up your name at the Dietz as Miss
+O'Reilly, I believed you were my cranky cousin Theresa, come to tell me
+she'd changed her mind about selling the house. Why, you owe it to me,
+if you care, to make up for that. Your Angel's husband has bribed
+Theresa to sell to him. The place has passed away from me forever. But
+if you'll marry me to-night I shan't care. In the joy of being
+husband--and nurse--to the bravest and dearest mouse in the world I'll
+forget everything and be the happiest man on God's earth."
+
+"People don't get married at a few hours' notice."
+
+"Don't they? How long have you lived in the United States, my Irish
+colleen?"
+
+"Months. Over a year. But I never discussed marriage."
+
+"I'm jolly glad you didn't. But you'll hear of nothing else till the
+knot's tied. We do things quickly over here."
+
+Then the door opened, and the doctor came in.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+THE TELEGRAM
+
+
+Roger Sands had hardly known himself for many days. His wife had read
+him aright. At times he was purposely cruel. At times he did wish to see
+how much she could bear and not break. Yet if she had broken, he felt
+that he could not have helped seizing her in his arms and forgiving her.
+
+While he dressed that night he hoped that she would send for him, or
+come to him, and confess that the pearls were gone, that she had given
+them to O'Reilly, whom she had once loved, and whom she loved no more.
+
+But she neither sent nor came. She was bluffing it out to the last. He
+might have known she would do that, although he had taken her to her
+room to give her one more chance to repent. At half-past seven he was
+ready, but he waited quietly ten minutes. Then he went to his door,
+meaning--as he said to himself roughly--to "get the thing over." But he
+paused with his hand on the knob. He thought that he heard a woman's
+voice saying: "May I come in?"
+
+His muttered comment upon one of his and Beverley's guests, whom he
+supposed the intruder to be, was far from flattering. Perhaps, however,
+it would be well not to find his wife alone. He would give Beverley a
+few minutes more, to be sure that her dress was on, before he went to
+interrupt the chorus of mutual admiration; but no woman's presence
+should prevent him from asking the question he meant to ask--"Where are
+your pearls?"
+
+At exactly eight minutes to eight Roger ceased his restless tramp up and
+down the room, and stopped again at the door. Before he could open it,
+however, there was a light tap--a tap like Beverley's in happier days.
+"Can she mean, after all, to tell me the truth?" he wondered; and he
+heard his voice saying mechanically, "Come in."
+
+Beverley came in; Roger's room was full of light, and as his wife
+entered she faced it. She glittered from head to foot like an ice maiden
+under a blazing sun. She wore a wreath of diamond roses; round her waist
+was a girdle of diamonds with long tasselled ends; on her white satin
+shoes were diamond buckles; and over her bare, white neck, her young
+gauze-enfolded bosom, hung the rope of the queen's pearls.
+
+"I thought you were coming in to see me dressed?" she said calmly. "Did
+you forget?"
+
+For answer Roger stared. He stepped back into the room, and let Beverley
+shut the door. She stood before him smiling, though, if he had analyzed
+her smile, he would have said that it was sad. "How do you think I
+look?" she asked, when he did not speak. "I hope you're not
+disappointed?"
+
+"You have had those pearls copied!" he flung at her.
+
+Beverley blushed bright crimson. She understood instantly what he meant
+and thought, but she had not gone through tortures and been relieved at
+the last moment to be beaten down now.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes steady, her head up.
+
+"You thought I didn't know. But I have known from the first. I found out
+by accident. I always hoped you'd some day tell me the truth. This is a
+cowardly thing you've done."
+
+Beverley was again ivory pale. "Are you a judge of pearls, Roger?" she
+coldly inquired.
+
+"Yes," he said.
+
+She lifted the rope over her head and thrust it, against his will, into
+his hands. "Make any test you wish, and decide whether these are the
+pearls you gave me or an imitation."
+
+Hardly knowing what he did, he walked to a table, on which stood a tall
+lamp that gave a brilliant light. Beverley watched him. There was no
+emotion whatever on her face. After a moment he spoke: "These are
+genuine pearls," he admitted, after a heavy silence. "And I have reason
+to believe from certain marks that they are the pearls I bought for you,
+the queen's pearls. If you give me your word, that since I put them into
+your hands you did not part with them to Justin O'Reilly, as I have
+believed, I will beg your forgiveness on the knees of my soul. I will
+confess to you--as I once expected you to confess to me."
+
+"Hush! There's someone at the door!" Beverley cut him short.
+
+It was Leontine who knocked, and paused on the threshold. "Will Madame
+have the kindness to step into the hall," she asked. As her mistress
+moved toward her, she retired, and it was not until they both stood at
+some distance from the door that the Frenchwoman spoke.
+
+"I beg Madame's pardon for disturbing her," she apologized, "but I dare
+not delay. The lady, Mees Blackburne, if that is her name, was about to
+start back to town, but remembered a commission she had been given at
+the apartment; to bring a telegram for me. I opened it, to find that for
+me there is no sense. I know no Stephen; but----"
+
+"Stephen!" Beverley gasped the name, and snatched from the woman's hand
+an open telegram she held. She read it, and then without a word or cry,
+collapsed in a dead faint. With a shriek of fear Leontine tried to catch
+the swaying figure; but the best she could do was to break the fall.
+When Roger reached the door it was to find Beverley in a white heap on
+the floor with the Frenchwoman kneeling by her side. He caught his wife
+up, and, carrying her back into his room, laid her on the bed.
+
+"Let everybody be told that dinner will be delayed half an hour," he
+said, and shut the door in Leontine's face. She snatched the dropped
+telegram and whisked off to obey the master's command.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+WHO IS STEPHEN?
+
+
+As Roger stood looking down at Beverley she opened her eyes.
+
+"Stephen is dead!" she muttered. "Stephen--is dead."
+
+"Who is Stephen?" Roger asked shortly.
+
+"Oh, Roger!" she appealed to him, breaking into sobs. "My poor Stephen!
+I shall never see him again. All my sacrifices--in vain!"
+
+"Who is Stephen?" Roger repeated.
+
+She held up her arms, without answering his questions. "Roger--comfort
+me!" she wept.
+
+And for all his life, no matter how many years he may live, Roger Sands
+will be glad that he did not hold back from Beverley then. Without
+another word he clasped her tightly, while she cried against his cheek.
+Both had forgotten that there were guests, that this was the "big night"
+which all the newspapers were talking about; that already dinner was
+late, and people wondering; that the "ball" was to begin at ten-thirty,
+and that the Russian dancers who were to open it, as the great
+"surprise," would soon be in the house.
+
+When Beverley had sobbed until exhaustion came, she spoke, in a tiny
+voice, like that of a tired little girl: "Because Stephen is--safe, I
+can tell you everything now. Will you listen, Roger, until the end,
+whether you can forgive me or no?"
+
+"Yes," Roger answered. "But just this before you begin! I love you so
+much, Beverley, that if there's something to forgive it's forgiven
+already."
+
+"Stephen was my brother," she said, "the one person who belonged to me
+after father died. Mother I don't remember. She came of a high Russian
+family who were sent to Siberia as political prisoners. She was only
+sixteen, and father saved her by making her his wife. I was named 'Olga'
+after her. But for that dreadful journey from Albuquerque I had to have
+some name that wouldn't give me away when my ticket was bought. Stephen
+and I were called Bevan, because father used that name for his business
+in Russia, but his own name was Beverley. For travelling that day I was
+'Miss B. White.' Once I'd told you I was Beverley, I had always to be
+Beverley for you.
+
+"Stephen--or Stephan, his Russian name--and I, were born in Russia,
+where father superintended an immense tract of oil wells for Mr. Heron.
+When my father was killed in an explosion (I was fourteen and Stephen
+twelve) Mr. Heron felt it his duty to look after our future. He had just
+married at that time. You must know Mrs. Heron well enough to understand
+that she wouldn't like to have two half-grown-up children thrust upon
+her. Why, she used to be jealous even of her husband's first wife, an
+Irish girl, who died years and years ago, in Ireland! It seems Mr. Heron
+hadn't told her about his old love story. She came across a picture of
+him taken with the girl, and some letters from people Mr. Heron had
+employed to search for his wife, whom he had quarrelled with and left. I
+was staying at their house when Dolores discovered the photograph and
+letters. She rushed into the room where I was with Mr. Heron. He had to
+seize her hands to keep her from tearing the picture in pieces; and he
+held them while he told her his sad story. He'd been visiting Ireland,
+it seemed, years before, and met a girl, very poor but very lovely, and
+married her when they'd known each other a few weeks. It seemed the girl
+had been engaged to someone else; and that someone took a cruel revenge
+on Heron. By a plot which he confessed afterward when it was too late,
+he made it appear that the girl had been his mistress. The evidence was
+so strong Heron could hardly help believing, so he came back to America
+and tried to forget. Years after the other man, dying of typhoid,
+confessed to a priest that he had lied, and forged letters. The priest
+wrote to Heron. But the poor, deserted girl was dead, and all that Heron
+could learn when he dashed back to Ireland to find her was that a baby
+girl had been born a few months after he left his wife. He tried for
+years to trace the child, but could not. And it was only after he'd
+given up all hope that he married Dolores Moreno. I think Mr. Heron felt
+tender over us children because of his lost little one. After leaving us
+in Russia at school for a while, and a year in England, to learn the
+language better than we knew it, another year in France and another in
+Italy (in families whom he paid to educate and take care of us) he must
+have had a longing to see what we were like. He and Dolores, his wife,
+came abroad, and brought us back to America with them, much against
+Dolores' will, I know. I was nearly eighteen, and I realized the first
+minute we met that Dolores was going to hate me. We went straight to a
+house near Albuquerque, which belongs to Mrs. Heron. Her brother Louis
+always lived there. He was an invalid, you know; about a year younger
+than Dolores; something wrong with his heart, and almost a
+hunchback--but oh, what a handsome face! When he took a violent fancy to
+me her one thought was to get me out of his way. Louis had money of his
+own. He was rich, and I suppose Dolores was afraid I might try to marry
+him, as I hadn't a penny. It was bad enough for her that Mr. Heron
+should have a tenderness for me, because of his lost child; but that
+Louis should love me was more than she could stand. I was sent to a
+boarding-school, and when I was twenty I began to teach. Dolores didn't
+like Stephen, either. She grudged every penny her husband spent for us.
+
+"Mr. Heron used his influence, and got Stephen work in Los Angeles as a
+reporter on a newspaper, when he was only eighteen. He was tall and
+handsome, and could pass for two years older at least. I was very
+unhappy at this time, for I'd begun to worry about Stephen. I was sure
+he was keeping some secret from me. But I found out nothing till the
+crash came. Oh, Roger, it was horrible. He'd fallen under the influence
+of those anarchists--those dynamiters, who had been terrorizing all
+America for years. They'd persuaded him that they were noble reformers.
+Poor Stephen was a useful tool. He never did any of the dynamiting with
+his own hands, but he used to make bombs, and carry them from place to
+place, and take letters it wasn't thought safe to send through the post.
+It was the blowing-up of the _Times_ buildings in Los Angeles and all
+those innocent men being killed that sickened him, he confessed
+afterward, when at last he opened his heart to me. But he was too deep
+in to free himself. It's now two years ago that the break happened, and
+all our life collapsed--Stephen's and mine.
+
+"Some of the old lot he'd worked with were left--men who had managed to
+keep clear and never be suspected when William Burns, the detective, was
+fighting the Macnamaras and their gang. Only one or two who'd been under
+suspicion wriggled out from Burns' clutches. A man named Carl Schmelzer
+was the cleverest. He went abroad, and was supposed to die in Germany.
+But he didn't die. By that time they were engaged in new enterprises, as
+the old ones were too risky; but they always pretended to be working for
+Labour against Capital. John Heron was their target two years ago. The
+war cry was that he was the master, a tyrant, a plutocrat, ruthlessly
+crushing the weak. The Comrades knew our history--Stephen's and
+mine--and they tried to inflame Stephen against Mr. Heron because he'd
+failed to do for us what our father's services and death merited. But
+they made a big mistake when they ordered my brother to dynamite a
+railway bridge, just as a train with Heron's private car was due to pass
+over it. He refused, and threatened to warn Heron unless they abandoned
+all their schemes against him. That gave the gang a fearful fright. They
+thought their one chance of safety was to suppress Stephen. A friend of
+his who lived at Home Colony warned him that there was a plot to kill
+him. He came straight to me and told me the whole story. Neither of us
+had much hope. We thought the Comrades were sure to get him in the end.
+Then a wonderful thing happened. The train Stephen took, after his visit
+to me, was wrecked. Everybody in the car with Stephen was killed except
+himself. An idea came to Stephen. He put a silver cigarette-case with
+his name on it into the pocket of a man burnt past recognition--a man of
+about his own size. Then he crept away and hid for many days. When he
+hoped it might be fairly safe, he wrote to me, knowing I mourned for him
+as dead. He asked if I'd risk going with him to Russia to begin a new
+life there under another name. Of course I said 'Yes.'
+
+"I left the school, and some jewellery I had kept us going for a while
+till there was a ship we could take for Japan, and so get back to
+Russia. We'd have to sail from San Francisco, so presently we went to
+Oakland, travelling at night by local trains. We hoped in that way we
+should not be seen by any one we knew.
+
+"Whether someone did see us or not, I can't tell. Anyhow, from the day
+Stephen left me to buy our cabins on the ship I've never seen him again.
+He was kidnapped by the gang; and then began my martyrdom. They gave me
+a week of suspense. Then I got a letter. It told me that Stephen had
+been caught and would be punished by death for his treachery unless I'd
+agree to buy his life. I was warned that if I went to the police, it
+would be known to them, and Stephen instantly killed. If I consented to
+bargain I must put a 'personal' in a San Francisco paper, saying
+'Steve's sister says yes'; in that case an appointment would be made
+with a man who would tell me what to do to save Stephen.
+
+"Of course, I obeyed. Next day the same paper told 'Steve's Sister'
+where to go for instructions, and at what time. I think the man who met
+me must have been Schmelzer himself, just back from Europe. He had the
+authoritative manner Stephen had spoken of, and a great deal of gesture.
+He didn't give himself any name then, but afterward I knew him as
+Cheffinsky. To save my brother I had only to get a bundle of papers
+which were in the possession of John Heron. They were at Albuquerque in
+Mrs. Heron's house. Heron kept them there because he believed no one
+would suspect; but a spy the 'Comrades' had hired to act as a gardener
+there overheard a conversation, and knew the hiding-place. Unfortunately
+he couldn't put his hand on the papers without killing a man to get at
+them. For me, it would be simple, because Louis Moreno was in love with
+me. Louis had charge of the papers, and would let me see them if I
+treated him the right way. How Cheffinsky found out about Louis and me I
+never heard; perhaps from Stephen. I was given a day to think the matter
+over. Then there was to be another meeting in the same place. When I
+went to the rendezvous for the second time--it was in a park--I hadn't
+made up my mind. But, oh, Roger, the wretch showed me a snapshot of
+Stephen in a room, with a rope round his neck, standing on tiptoe. The
+rope was fastened to a ring in the ceiling, where a chandelier had been.
+If Stephen had dropped from fatigue he would have choked to death. 'Six
+hours a day of this medicine,' Cheffinsky said, 'till you've handed us
+the papers we want.'
+
+"I promised to go to Albuquerque and get them. What the papers were I
+wasn't told. Afterward I heard more about them--from Louis himself. The
+day of the second meeting in the park I was given directions what to do,
+but they were changed in a hurry. The Comrades got warning to 'clear
+out' and go East as quick as they could. A telegram reached me only a
+few hours before I was to start for Albuquerque. It said, 'Delay
+journey. Writing,' and a letter came the same night to the quiet little
+boarding-house where I stayed. My brother had been taken East, where I
+should meet him when I handed over the papers. I was told what train to
+take to Albuquerque, and what train to leave in: the Santa Fe Limited. I
+was to find reservations on board for 'Miss B. White.' At Chicago I was
+to get out of the train and find a man waiting for me. You know all
+about that, and what happened. There was money in the letter of
+instructions, enough to see me through to Chicago, otherwise I couldn't
+have started. What I had was almost all gone. Oh, I can hardly bear to
+think of that day, and what I went through--before I met _you_."
+
+"Don't think of it--don't go on if you'd rather not," Roger begged.
+
+But Beverley wished to go on.
+
+"There was one thing the Comrades hadn't calculated upon," she said,
+"and that was that the Herons would be at Albuquerque. When the plan was
+made the Herons were at Los Angeles, and expecting to stay there. You
+must have been with them--just after the great case was decided in John
+Heron's favour--thanks to you! But Louis had been seized with one of his
+heart attacks--he had angina pectoris--and had wired for his sister.
+Dolores didn't wish to travel without her husband, so both decided to
+go. As for Justin O'Reilly, it was at Albuquerque I first saw him. It
+came out that he was taking a short holiday in California, and I heard
+talk about his visiting some place where he and his father had lived. I
+had the impression of his being a California man. Mr. Heron had helped
+O'Reilly to get into Congress. They weren't intimate, though I believe
+they're distantly related, but Mr. Heron wanted to see him before he
+went East, and wired for O'Reilly to meet them at Albuquerque. When I
+arrived, expecting to find only Louis in the house, they were all there.
+
+"It was a shock and a blow to me to see the Herons. I'd meant to lie,
+and tell Louis I'd come to him because I'd changed my mind, and liked
+him better than I thought. But to account for my sudden appearance,
+uninvited, to Dolores, who hated me, was another matter.
+
+"She and her husband supposed I was living quietly at school, mourning
+for my dead brother. I had to make up a story quickly. I said that I'd
+lost my position, and hoped they would put me up at Albuquerque until I
+could get another. They couldn't turn me out that night. And Louis was
+fairly well again by that time. He was very glad to see me. I made the
+most of his welcome--for Stephen's sake. You see, I _had_ to succeed! I
+wrote a note, and slipped it into Louis' hand. In it I hinted that I had
+something very particular to say to him. He must go to his own rooms as
+soon as he could--he had a whole suite to himself which he could shut
+off from the rest of the house. It was on the ground floor. I said I
+would go to him there.
+
+"Now comes the most terrible part of my story. Roger, you may hate me
+when you've heard the rest! I went to Louis' room. He let me in. I told
+him that I had changed my mind. I would marry him if he wanted me to,
+but only on one condition. I said I'd heard from friends of Stephen's
+that Mr. Heron was keeping documents which concerned our dead father;
+that they were with other private papers, in the Albuquerque house, and
+in Louis' charge. If he would give the whole bundle to me to look over,
+and choose what I wished to take away, I'd be his wife whenever he
+wanted me.
+
+"He tried to seize me in his arms, but I threatened to go away at once
+unless he kept quiet, and did as I told him. There was a packet of
+papers, he admitted, but he vowed to me that they were only business
+papers. They were compromising to John Heron, and would do him immense
+harm--worse than ever, now that he'd just come successfully through the
+courts--if they passed into enemy hands. I insisted that there must be
+something about my father. There could be no mistake, and unless Louis
+would let me look, I'd never marry him. He still objected, arguing that
+all the things were in one envelope, sealed with three seals, which must
+not be broken, or his sister and her husband would never forgive him.
+
+"He went to his desk--we were in his sitting-room--and showed me a
+secret drawer between two other drawers. He took out an envelope--you've
+seen it. 'I'll try to cut off the seals with a sharp knife,' he said,
+'and I can stick them on again. While he spoke, he began looking for the
+knife he wanted, and I snatched at the envelope. But his fingers closed
+down on it. He laughed in my face. 'So that's your game!' he said. 'I'm
+not so soft as you thought!' But I struggled with him. I was strong; he
+was an invalid. He'd just been ill. When he realized that I was more
+than his match, his face looked like a devil's. I shall never forget it.
+'You'll pay for this!' he screamed at the top of his voice--an awful
+scream--'Help! murder!'
+
+"Overhead was what they called the living room. I knew he would be
+heard; people would come. I wrenched the envelope from him, and ran for
+the window. I dared not go to the door; I should meet someone and be
+caught. Louis grabbed my dress, shouting 'murder!' Then I seemed to go
+mad. I gave him a push, and he fell over a chair, and lay quite still. I
+rushed to the door, locked it, and took the key, to make a few minutes'
+delay. Then I jumped out of the window (I told you Louis' rooms were on
+the ground floor) and ran very fast. I won't stop now to tell you the
+adventures I had before I managed to dash into the Albuquerque railway
+station, at the last minute, after the train was in. Once in the train
+when I didn't see Louis, or Mr. Heron's secretary, or any one I expected
+to follow me, I began to hope that some other trail had been followed.
+It would have seemed more likely that I'd go back west, where I had
+friends, than travel east where I was a stranger. You promised to stand
+by me. Then you met Justin O'Reilly. I didn't dream Louis was dead. It
+was a week later, when you and I were married, that I saw in a newspaper
+about the beautiful Mrs. John Heron losing her brother suddenly, from
+heart disease. A date was mentioned: the night I took the envelope. Oh,
+Roger, I felt that I was guilty of his death. Even to save Stephen I
+could not have killed him. Do you think me a murderess? If you do, just
+let me go from your arms, and I shall understand. You needn't tell me in
+words."
+
+Roger held her closer. "No, my darling," he said, "you're not a
+murderess. You didn't kill Louis Moreno. He couldn't have lived many
+weeks. The doctor had warned John Heron. I love you more than ever for
+what you've gone through. It's you who should hate me for my cruelty
+and--and my beastly suspicion. But there were some things that tried me
+rather hard. Why didn't you tell me this story long ago? Surely you
+could have trusted me to keep your secret?"
+
+"Yes, I could have trusted you, even though it was Stephen's secret more
+than mine. But I had taken a double oath not to tell! First, I'd
+promised Stephen himself when he came back from the dead, never to give
+any hint of the truth. Later, when he was kidnapped, I was obliged to
+swear another oath, on the memory of our dead parents, and my love for
+my brother, that I wouldn't betray Cheffinsky and his comrades. Now it's
+different. They have betrayed me. Stephen is dead. Such a girl as Clo
+Riley wouldn't have sent this message unless she knew for certain. He
+must have died just before that dreadful Sunday when all our
+unhappiness--yours and mine--began, Roger. To keep their hold over me,
+those men would have done all they could to save him till they had the
+papers they wanted to use, and ruin John Heron. Soon after you brought
+me to New York they found out about our marriage, and put 'personals' in
+the newspapers headed like those others in California: 'Steve's Sister.'
+They knew, of course, that their man, who should have met me in Chicago,
+had been prevented from coming--imprisoned on a charge which they called
+a 'frame-up' but I believe he must have picked someone's pocket and been
+arrested in the railway station. They still had power over me, although
+I was your wife, but I had power over them, too, because I'd got the
+papers they wanted. I answered the messages, and refused to give up what
+I had unless my brother fetched it. I hoped that would bring him. But he
+only wrote--a short letter. He said that he was safe for the time being,
+and was treated kindly. He would come when he could. Meanwhile, I 'must
+keep the papers and the secret'--and wait. I felt relieved after that! I
+dared to let myself be happy. Then, that Sunday, when Clo and I went out
+in the motor, a man was waiting for me in the street. He made me
+understand that he came from Stephen. His name was Peterson. He said the
+Comrades had changed their minds. They wouldn't let Stephen come to me.
+I must send the papers that night or my brother would die. When I asked
+the reason for the change, Peterson pretended not to know. Now, I
+understand at last. Stephen was dead already. Cheffinsky and the others
+had at last lost their hold over me and dared not wait longer. I sent
+the envelope to Peterson by Clo, to the Westmorland Hotel. Yes, the man
+who was murdered! That has been another horror for me. It was when I was
+taking the envelope to Clo, in the car, that I broke the rope of pearls,
+and dared not even stop to pick them up! I hoped that Stephen was
+saved--thanks to Clo--but, Roger, it was not the same envelope you took
+care of for me in the train. It had been changed. Inside, when Peterson
+opened it before Clo, he found only blank paper--writing paper of the
+Santa Fe Limited train. Clo puzzled the mystery out, and explained what
+might have happened when you and I left the train in Chicago--what must
+have happened. A clever trick of Justin O'Reilly's, working for the
+Herons."
+
+"Justin O'Reilly! Damn him!" Roger broke out; but Beverley covered his
+lips with her hand.
+
+"No. He wasn't to blame. He must have thought me a monster of
+ingratitude and treachery to the Herons. The moment they saw the secret
+drawer open they would all have guessed that I'd stolen the sealed
+envelope. It was the only thing kept there. If John Heron told O'Reilly
+what the contents were, he must have supposed I meant to make money by
+blackmailing. The reason the Herons were silent and left me alone, was
+that O'Reilly had managed to have you robbed of the envelope, at
+Chicago, where it was changed for another--another just like it, given
+him by Dolores, with her seal and gold wax. So they were safe. O'Reilly
+kept the right envelope, and it was safer with him than at Albuquerque.
+But they could never be sure whether you were in the affair with me or
+not. So, I have lost you the Herons' friendship."
+
+"As if I cared!"
+
+"And Justin O'Reilly has doubted you, and detested me. But he has been
+splendid to Clo, who went to his hotel and stole the real envelope out
+of his private safe and brought it here----"
+
+"So that was it!" said Roger. "And in your boudoir I found the envelope
+addressed to him at his bank, and sent it back to the Dietz that night."
+
+"Roger! It was you?"
+
+"Yes. You are not the only one with a confession to make. There are many
+things I----"
+
+"I don't want a confession from you!" she broke in. "Whatever you did
+was right. Even before you told me, I felt you knew about the pearls
+being gone----"
+
+"Though I knew, I ought to have trusted you. I ought to have trusted you
+when I heard you telephone O'Reilly----"
+
+"So you did hear! I was sure of it. I telephoned about Clo. He was
+helping her, and so, indirectly, helping me, though I'd seen him only
+when he brought her here that Sunday night, after she'd been to his
+hotel. Oh, Roger, you don't know what that child has done for me! Not
+only did she get back the envelope, and now the pearls--which Peterson
+stole--but she has gone through an ordeal terrible enough to kill most
+women, or drive them mad--that delicate girl! She may be in danger
+still--for she dropped the pearls in a bag out of a window in a shabby
+boarding-house where she has been watching a thief. Miss Blackburne has
+just told me. My one comfort is that a man, answering Justin O'Reilly's
+description, got out of a motor car in front of the house, as Miss
+Blackburne came away. Clo tricked O'Reilly, and stole from him, and
+yet--I think she bewitched him. I think he'd risk his life to keep her
+from harm. I pray that he may bring her here, safe and sound."
+
+"He's not likely to come to my house," Roger said. "I've just caused him
+the greatest disappointment of his life. I wanted to hurt him--and I
+found a way. By this time he must know what I've done. There's an old
+mansion in Gramercy Square built by O'Reilly's great-great-grandfather.
+Years ago there was a forced sale; and ever since Justin O'Reilly was a
+boy he has wanted to buy the house back. I have bought it. But I wish to
+heaven he would fall in love with this Clo of yours and marry her. I'd
+give them the deed of sale as a wedding present!"
+
+Roger had sprung up, released by Beverley, and almost shouted the words
+of his inspiration. He had forgotten everything and everybody in the
+world except his wife, the girl who had helped her, and his own late
+enemy, whom he would now gladly welcome as his dearest friend. A knock
+brought him back to realities with a start; yet he felt half dazed as he
+opened the door, to face Leontine.
+
+"The butler begged of me to come," said the Frenchwoman. "Is it the wish
+of Monsieur and Madame that dinner be still longer delayed?"
+
+Roger turned and looked at Beverley, his hand on the door. "What shall
+we say?" he asked. "Shall I go down without you? Shall I explain that
+you've a headache----"
+
+"No," Beverley answered. She stood up, tall and very beautiful, though
+deadly pale. "I have no headache. I am quite well. Leontine, tell
+Johnson dinner may be served."
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+ON THE ROAD TO NEWPORT
+
+
+Through the blue dusk of the June night a big gray limousine car bowled
+smoothly over the velvet road surface, with the moon overhead, and the
+sea making distant music. Turning a corner with a swing the limousine
+came upon another car, stationary and in trouble. A man in evening dress
+was holding an electric lamp for the chauffeur to peer under the bonnet,
+and standing beside him was a woman in black, wearing a filmy purple
+cloak.
+
+"Want any help?" O'Reilly called from the window, while his chauffeur
+slowed down.
+
+"No, thank you! We'll soon be all right," answered the man with the
+lamp. The light shone on his face, which was strange to O'Reilly, and on
+that of the woman, which, to his surprise, was familiar. "You can go
+on," he said to his chauffeur, in a low voice.
+
+"Why, Mr. O'Reilly, it was Mrs. Heron!" Clo cried, sinking back
+reluctantly upon her comfortably rigged-up bed, after a long stare
+through the window.
+
+"'Mr. O'Reilly,' indeed? Don't you realize I'm your husband?" Justin
+laughed at her.
+
+"I'd forgotten," said Clo. "It's only since this morning, and we've had
+so many things to think of."
+
+"I've thought of nothing but you. You seem to have thought of nothing
+but your Angel--and these Herons."
+
+"It's the Herons I'm thinking of now," Clo confessed. "Why did you tell
+the man to go on?"
+
+"Why, I like old John Heron, but I'm not a spoil-sport."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I'm wondering if Mrs. Heron and that chap are on their way to the
+Sands' ball. If Heron doesn't mind letting them enjoy each other's
+company, why should I butt in?"
+
+"Mr. Heron was in the car," Clo insisted gravely. "It was dark inside,
+but I saw his face at the window."
+
+"You must have sharp eyes," said Justin. "The window looked black as a
+pocket to me."
+
+"You think I imagined it. But I'm sure! Oh, Mr.--er--Justin, do let's go
+back and warn him! I have a presentiment that if we don't, it will be
+too late."
+
+"Whatever you feel as if you must do shall be done," said Justin, with a
+tenderness in his voice of which few people would have believed him
+capable. "The doctor humoured you, and told me to, so here goes!" He
+called through the speaking-tube, and directed the chauffeur to turn.
+"Go back till you get within a few yards of that auto we passed hung up
+on the road," he added. And to Clo:
+
+"Astonishing the interest you take in the Herons!" he teased.
+
+"Not in them. In him. I don't think I like Mrs. Heron," she explained.
+
+"You've worried about him ever since you came to yourself yesterday. But
+then, I'm used to John Heron's life being threatened. It used to happen
+about once a week. And he is alive to this day."
+
+"I feel awfully responsible," said Clo. "You see, I heard Kit and Churn
+talking of the plot, and saying that Chuff was sure to have found
+someone else, after Pete died."
+
+"I tried to get Heron three times on long distance yesterday," said
+O'Reilly, "and when he was always out, I wired."
+
+"You couldn't explain clearly in the telegram."
+
+"If you really saw him in the car, he's all right, up to date. There it
+is, still stranded. We shall soon know."
+
+"Will you get out and talk to him seriously?" Clo urged.
+
+"Yes. If it's he and not his ghost you saw. I'll get him to walk along
+the road with me, out of earshot from his wife."
+
+The gray limousine slowed, and carefully stopped. The chauffeur had been
+told that, for his life, he must not let the car jolt or jerk.
+
+Justin kissed his bride of a few hours good-bye for a few minutes, and
+jumped out.
+
+While Clo kissed her hand, almost timidly, because Justin had kissed it,
+Justin himself walked on to the other car.
+
+"You!" exclaimed Dolores Heron. "So it was you in the limousine that
+hailed us? Funny I didn't recognize your voice, but the chauffeur's
+tinkering made such a noise----"
+
+O'Reilly was about to ask for Heron when Dolores introduced him to Mr.
+Hammersley-Fisher. "He's our host at Narragansett, and is taking us over
+to Roger Sands,'" she said. "Jack's in the car, very bored. I believe
+he's gone to sleep."
+
+"No, he hasn't," Heron's voice answered rather testily, for he secretly
+disliked Dolores' habit of calling him "Jack." "He's only waiting for a
+chance to speak!"
+
+O'Reilly went to the window of the car, and shook hands with his
+friends.
+
+"It's not possible that you're going to the Sands'?" Heron said.
+
+"I should have made the same remark about you a few days ago," retorted
+O'Reilly. "But--circumstances have altered cases with us both."
+
+"My wife is the circumstance that has altered my case," Heron replied,
+in the tone of a man with a grievance.
+
+"So is mine!" returned Justin, in a purposely subdued tone.
+
+"Your--what?"
+
+"My wife. But let's take a walk. Your friend's auto won't be ready to
+move for some time, I should judge."
+
+The elder man, who had been feeling ill and tired, sprang out of the car
+with a sudden increase of liveliness. Dolores and Hammersley-Fisher
+stood with their backs to the two men. Heron's wife turned for a glance,
+but let them walk away without a question. She was flirting with her
+host.
+
+Dolores was saying to Hammersley-Fisher: "I dislike Mrs. Roger Sands
+intensely. I wouldn't dream of going to her house if her husband hadn't
+at one time done quite a service--legally, I mean--to mine. I don't
+often talk like this about people I'm going to visit. But if I could
+tell you the things that woman has done you wouldn't blame me."
+
+To O'Reilly Heron was repeating, as they walked along:
+
+"Your wife, did you say?"
+
+"I did say. But before I go on I've a question or so to ask. You got my
+wire, advising you to be careful, and hinting that some of the old lot
+had bobbed up along your life line?"
+
+"Yes. We were out all the afternoon. I found the wire this evening when
+we got back to Hammersley-Fisher's place to dress for this show at Roger
+Sands'. Now will you tell me----"
+
+"I'll tell you this, that my opinion of Mrs. Roger Sands has changed.
+You shall hear why presently. I rather think it will give you pleasure
+to change yours--when you can conscientiously. As for Sands himself,
+I've learned that we have both done him an injustice in regard to those
+papers."
+
+"How have you learned all this?"
+
+"From the same person who wished me to put you on your guard--made me
+call you up at Narragansett, and wire when I couldn't reach you by
+'phone!"
+
+"Who is this person?"
+
+"My wife. And if you want to know who she is----"
+
+"I most certainly do."
+
+"I could introduce you to her in about two minutes if I weren't afraid
+of her giving you another shock."
+
+"Another--shock?"
+
+"As she did on the Sunday night at our hotel when you had your--little
+attack. Heron, I've married that girl; the most wonderful girl in the
+world."
+
+Heron stopped short.
+
+"That girl!--you--have--_married_ that girl?"
+
+"Yes," said Justin, "I married her this morning. So, if you'd been
+inclined to forbid the banns, you're too late."
+
+For an instant Heron did not speak. But when words came, he seemed to
+fling them at his friend: "You're not joking when you say that,
+O'Reilly. You have a meaning. What's in your mind?"
+
+"Perhaps--the same thing that's in yours, Heron."
+
+"Speak out plainly."
+
+"I'm not prepared to do that without encouragement. You and I are both
+of Irish blood, Heron, so you know as well as I do that imagination gets
+out of hand now and then with us Celtic folk. We generally flatter
+ourselves it's second sight, whereas it may be--just nothing at all."
+
+"I give you leave to speak."
+
+"Long ago, when I first knew you, while my father was still alive, and
+before you married Miss Moreno, you once came to stop with us. You were
+run down and ill. My father thought we could do you good. One day you
+spoke rather frankly about a certain incident in your past. Never since
+have we mentioned that conversation, and I never expected to do so
+again. Yesterday I heard the story of another incident which matched it
+about as perfectly as two bits of a broken coin can join together. This
+second incident concerned two Irish girls. The first died years ago. The
+second--is my wife."
+
+"And the first was mine."
+
+"I was wondering. You see, that collapse of yours on Sunday night wasn't
+like you, in the normal course of things. It had to be accounted for,
+and so----"
+
+"The girl told you!"
+
+"She told me that she'd met outside my door a tall man with red hair and
+beard, and extraordinary eyes that pierced her through and through. She
+told me that, after she'd walked on to a stone ledge from my window to
+yours, and climbed in there----"
+
+"Great Heavens!"
+
+"I mentioned that she was the most wonderful girl in the world. You'll
+hear the story some day. She didn't know who you were, then. When she
+learned your name, although she wasn't conscious of having heard it in
+the past, it affected her strangely. She seemed to associate it with
+wakeful nights in her early childhood, and the sound of a woman's sobs
+in the dark."
+
+"Don't, Justin. I can't stand any more--now. The sight of her face that
+Sunday at the Dietz--the ghostliness of her, in my locked room--I
+thought I was haunted."
+
+"Would you like to see her again, and judge for yourself whether----"
+
+"Take me to her," Heron broke in.
+
+They started on again toward the gray limousine drawn up at the roadside
+only a few yards away; but before they had gone a dozen steps Heron
+stopped O'Reilly once more.
+
+"Does she know?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"I have said nothing to her," Justin assured him. "She cannot know. Yet
+I think, what one would call her 'subconscious self' is aware of a tie
+between you and herself. She's Celtic, too! She hasn't been able to rest
+since she learned (in a way you shall hear about later) that your life
+was threatened. I'm certain that something above Fate has brought us
+three together on the road to-night. I didn't see you in the car. She
+saw you. She made me turn back."
+
+Without another word Heron began to walk very fast. Justin kept at his
+side, but did not speak until they had nearly reached the car which
+contained Clo. Then he warned Heron hastily that the girl had had an
+accident. "That is," he corrected himself, dryly, "she was shot by the
+leader of the band that's after you. If you want to tell her here and
+now what you think you are to each other, I don't forbid it. Happy news
+seldom hurts. (By the by, she explained to me that she came over to
+America because she thought the States looked small on the map, and she
+might meet her American father!) Go gently with her, that's all I ask."
+
+"You give me leave to talk to her--as I wish?"
+
+"Yes. But--what about Mrs. Heron? Is she----"
+
+"Oh, later, I must tell her. To-night I want it to rest between
+ourselves. But, O'Reilly, I can't go on with my wife and that fellow,
+Hammersley-Fisher, to the Sands'--after this! What am I to do? Think
+for me. I can think only--of one thing."
+
+"When I've introduced you to my wife" (each time O'Reilly spoke those
+two words it was with tenderness and pride) "I'll go back to
+Hammersley-Fisher's car and suggest that he take Mrs. Heron on, while we
+follow later, if you like."
+
+"For heaven's sake, do."
+
+They had reached the gray limousine. Justin opened the door. "Clo, here
+is my old friend, John Heron, come to see you," he announced.
+
+"Clo! Her name's not 'Clodagh,' is it?" the question leapt from Heron's
+lips.
+
+"It was one of my mother's names, Mr. Heron."
+
+"And your voice is her voice!" he exclaimed. "Your face is her face." He
+had not meant to begin in this way; but the moment was too big for him
+when Clo switched on an electric lamp, and the light framed her in
+silver. Justin silently moved away, leaving the two to make acquaintance
+as Fate led.
+
+Next morning the newspapers all over the country were head-lined with a
+new sensation. Mrs. John Heron, of California, had arrived rather late,
+on account of an accident to the car of Mr. Hammersley-Fisher, who had
+been entertaining the Herons at Narragansett. Mr. Heron, owing to
+indisposition, had remained behind, and only the lady's host had
+accompanied her to the ball. At the moment of their entrance a dance,
+given by several famous Russian professionals, was nearly ended. An
+extra dancer had accompanied the party as an understudy of one of its
+members who feared a breakdown. Not being called upon to dance, he had
+taken up his station near the door, and must have known Mrs. John Heron
+by sight, though not her husband. When she came in, accompanied by
+Hammersley-Fisher, he shot the latter through the breast, calling out in
+English: "Take that, John Heron, for your sins against the Comrades!"
+
+Unfortunately the Russian--or pretended Russian--was allowed to escape
+in the confusion, but the police had hopes of getting upon his track.
+Mr. Hammersley-Fisher was seriously, but not fatally, injured. All the
+guests of Mr. and Mrs. Sands, with the exception of four, had left, that
+the house might be kept quiet for the invalid.
+
+The four who remained were Mr. and Mrs. John Heron, Justin O'Reilly, and
+Justin O'Reilly's wife.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+_Books by the Same Authors_
+
+
+CAR OF DESTINY, THE
+
+CHAPERON, THE
+
+EVERYMAN'S LAND
+
+GOLDEN SILENCE, THE
+
+GUESTS OF HERCULES, THE
+
+HEATHER MOON, THE
+
+IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT
+
+LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER
+
+LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR, THE
+
+LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR DISCOVERS AMERICA, THE
+
+LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA
+
+MOTOR MAID, THE
+
+MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR
+
+PORT OF ADVENTURE, THE
+
+PRINCESS PASSES, THE
+
+PRINCESS VIRGINIA
+
+ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
+
+SECRET HISTORY
+
+SET IN SILVER
+
+SOLDIER OF THE LEGION, A
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S MOUSE***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 21998.txt or 21998.zip *******
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